My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 399

Episode Date: September 2, 2024

This week’s hometowns include a murder in Northern Kentucky and a grandma who hides traysure.  Support this podcast by shopping our latest sponsor deals and promotions at this link: https://bit.ly/3UFCn1g Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Hello and welcome to my favorite murder. The mini-sode. This is the one where you send us emails and we read them aloud to you. Can you imagine? You want to go first? Sure. I'm not going to read you the subject line, but I'm going to tell you it's about things that you kept in your junk drawer. And I think that's a great new subject that we should ask people for weird things in your junk drawer. Yes, absolutely. Okay, so here's one. Hi, Georgia and Karen. I've been a murderino for as

long as I can remember and have my mom to thank for that. She loves your show too. One of my earliest memories was when I was probably four and my mom telling me that if I was ever thrown into a trunk to kick out the tail light and wave my hand through the hole. Good advice. Very effective. I'm now over 30 and to this day she still questions me on what I would do if someone points a gun at me and tells me to get in their car. Hint the answer is to run because you will definitely get murdered if you get in.

And lectures me every time I take a road trip to never stop at rest areas. I'm sure this has nothing to do with my anxiety. Thanks, mom. Love you. When I was about 11, we took a family vacation to a beach in Delaware. My mom was setting up our beach stuff and digging the umbrella into the sand when the umbrella wouldn't go down anymore because it hit something hard. My mom reached down and pulled something out of the sand.

She worked in an orthopedic office at the time and immediately knew it was a all caps human bone and likely got washed up on the beach from the crazy storm that had happened the week before. My mom brought the bone to the lifeguard who pretty much shrugged his shoulders at her. So she put it in her beach bag and we brought it home to Northern VA. The lifeguard isn't qualified to deal with that bone.

There's no training in lifeguard school, I don't think. No. She brought the bone to work with her the next week and got confirmation that it was definitely human and that it was a forearm bone. We brought the bone to the police station. They basically said there was nothing they could do with it since it was so weathered.

So we did the sensible thing and brought it home and threw it in the drunk drawer in our kitchen where it lived for several years. I remember taking it out every so often and holding it up to my own arm and showing random people that came to our house the bone we had like it was completely normal. An entire fucking arm bone. The whole thing? Yeah. Eventually we brought the bone back to the beach where we found it and threw it back into the ocean. My mom decided that after several years it was bad juju and we should return it to where it came from. SSDGM and don't keep skeletal remains in your junk drawer.

Dallas She Her. I wonder if that mom put it together that like the bad juju is that it's someone's arm. So you should turn it into some sort of expert that knows what to do with it and how to look into it. She went to the police and they were like, no, thank you. I mean, yeah, it could be ancient, but also it's so troubling. Yeah. If the police won't look into it, then who else would? Could just roll by the coroners. I don't know how to solve this problem. Could just roll by the corners. I don't know how to solve this problem. Also, it feels to me like an arm bone would be too long for a junk drawer. Well, I guess.

I was imagining like a road that it was broken or that it was a partial or something. Maybe, maybe. OK. My first email is the subject line is my Northern Kentucky hometown murder. Dear MFM fam, long time listener, first time writing in and it's all thanks to my sister-in-law, Kaitlyn. And then in parentheses it says pronounced Kaitlyn. And it's just, they added an E. I'm a big fan of the show and I rewrite this email in my head every time I listen to a mini-sode. So I decided it was time to share my hometown murder. My older sister and I were coming back from a late night out.

We were passing over this old one-lane bridge on the back end of our small town road. I noticed this SUV that was parked on the side, and I remember thinking, that's strange. Why is there a car there? Nobody ever parks there. Paying it no mind, because we were both high schoolers, we continued on our way home and went to bed. It wasn't until the next morning when I awoke that I came to discover that a man had been murdered. When I came downstairs, my parents immediately asked me if we took the back road last night

and if I saw anything unusual. I informed them of the SUV and now I've never seen anyone parked there before, so it had to have been broken down. They went on to tell me that on the news, they saw a man had been murdered, then was put into an SUV, dumped underneath a bridge and set on fire. A passerby saw the smoke and called emergency services where they discovered a body. The murderers were caught and sent to prison. I don't remember the specifics because I was a young high schooler, but the thought of my sister and I driving over the bridge while a body was being set on fire will stay with me forever."

Oh my God. Yeah. The scary part was they could have gotten away with it because that road used to flood all the time. If there had been any rain that night, the body would have been washed away, and who knows what would have happened. That bridge has since been redone and is now two lanes with guardrails and rarely floods. Stay sexy and don't trust strangely

parked SUVs, Rachel." Wow. That's a classic hometown of your weird connection. They were like there for it, like part of it. So scary. This episode is dark so far. It really kicked off strong. Hey Karen, you know that voice in the back of your head when you like smell a bad smell? Yeah, the one that says, is it me?

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Goodbye. Okay, here's a funny one. High heels almost killed me. And then it says, gotta love the 80s and big sisters. It says, resending, because this story is too good not to share. Hello, beautiful ladies and sweet animals. When I was about four, I would like to dress up in my mom's closet, which you know we all do as kids.

And it was the 80s, so there was a plethora of vibrant clothes for me to dress myself in. I put an old pair of high heels on. Key old pair of heels, like very worn, and were missing that rubber piece on the bottom of the stiletto. Well, if you don't know what's under that rubber, let me tell you, it's a big fucking nail. That's right. So I dress up and struck down the hall with my teddy in my hand to show my mom how stunning I look. Well, she was on the phone because what 80s mom isn't on the damn phone. I decided to head to the basement to show my older sister and her friends how beautiful I looked.

Our house at the time had two sets of stairs with a landing in between, which was where our front door was. As I walked down the stairs, I was holding onto the railing, but needed to change up, which arm was holding my teddy. Can't drop that fucking teddy. Well, I trip and fall down the stairs to the landing. As I fall, one of the heels falls off my foot and falls to the door.

So when I fall, my head smashes into the heel and door and lodges the high heel into the top of my tiny little head. Eww. I get up crying and my sister and her friends are at the bottom of the stairs laughing hysterically at me because the high heel is sticking out of my fucking head. She is an asshole. My mom drops the phone in horror.

She grabs me and my younger brother and rushes me to the hospital where I had to have surgery to take it out. I still remember the Care Bear brace they had on the bed to tie me down before I was put out for surgery and my mom asking me to thank the doctors when we left. I did not thank them. I was pissed. To this day, I still have anxiety if I notice my heels are wearing thin and I'll toss them immediately.

Thank you for making me laugh hysterically while I work. I love listening to you. You put a smile on my face daily. Stay sexy and remember to toss out your old heels. They will kill you. Courtney, does that mean that that heel nail went into the bone if she had to have it surgically removed? I don't know. I don't know.

Because there's not that much skin on the top of your head. Yeah. It feels like it. Yeah. So gross. Oh, my God. This batch. Jesus. We're really doing it this time. We'll change it a little bit with this one right now. I'm not going to read you the subject line. It says, hello fellow homo sapiens, furry friends and the godly essence of Steven's mustache. I won't bore you too much with an introduction, but my name is Jay. and yes, you can use my name, as well as any other names in this story, as I have changed them all for the sake of

keeping the peace between my family during the holidays. I recently listened to the episode about the bank robbing cyclist, Tom Justice, and immediately knew that I needed to grace your sexy ears with this wild ride. To give some background, my dad's side of the family has always been a little cuckoo. He's the middle child of three siblings with an older sister and a younger brother. The younger brother, my uncle S, was always a rebel. It started out with a bit of skipping school to drive around and make dumb decisions and ended in about 13 bank robberies by the very petite age of 22.

Oh my God. 13. Now I know you're probably wondering how the hell did he rob so many banks without getting caught? Honestly, whether it was dumb luck or pure genius, bank robbing was the only thing he's ever really excelled at. When they finally caught him, it wasn't because he slipped up and made a mistake during the heist. It was because he cheated on his then girlfriend and she decided to rat on him as payback. And then it says, good for her. Good for her. Lucille Bluth style.

Good for her. To make things even crazier, he wasn't even on their list of suspects. To this day, the FBI and the Columbus City Police Department still don't know the exact amount that he had taken. When he was sentenced, they only tried him with five of the 13 robberies because they didn't have enough evidence for the other eight. He was sentenced to 10 years in prison because he struck a plea deal to reveal where the rest of the money was hidden. Now onto the treasure. His parents lived on about five acres of land at the time, and it's a well-known family rumor that he still has money buried out on that land.

Unfortunately, I will never know because my family sold the land about seven years ago. Uncle S is currently at a prison, has sons and a lovely wife that we all adore, full suburban dad, football coach and everything. He went back to normal life. Damn. Legend.

Anyways, thanks for all you do. And thank you to my lovely bonus mom, which is the sweetest, I'm assuming that means step mom. Yeah. That's so sweet. To my lovely bonus mom for introducing me to your podcast in 2019. Love you all so much. Let me know if you want the newspaper articles that detail everything a lot better than I

can. Stay sexy and if you're going to rob a bank, at least tell your family where you hid the money and that's J she her. And then there's a PS. PS after about three years in prison, he escaped and went on the run for a few days, but of course was eventually caught. That's someone's soccer coach right now. Just someone hanging out at Outback Steakhouse.

Yeah. All chill. No big deal. I love it. It goes to show you, it's never too late to start over. Yeah. I mean, especially with stuff like that, where it's like, I think bank robbers and stuff, there's an adrenaline issue going on there.

It's not just, you know. Self-control or something like that. Wow. And also like, don't do your girlfriend dirty. And like, maybe, you know. If you're going to be a criminal, you can't also be a cheater. Yeah.

Pick one. I mean, they're both, they both suck. Pick one. Yeah. Pick none. Pick none. But if you have to pick one. Karen, I'm going to say something and I need you to keep your cool. I can't promise anything. OK, well, here goes. It's almost time to start your holiday shopping.

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Okay, this just starts. In the mid to late 90s, I had the pleasure of spending six months as a roomie with my grandparents. I was between apartments and then and in the midst of a breakup and they were there for me without a second thought. It was only supposed to be three months, but it strangely worked out with me really using the time with them to be helpful around the house while getting to know them and all their funny little quirks that I didn't know growing up. I was working at a bar at the time. It says I have tons of stories. And helping them around the house, while also generally just enjoying their company.

Grandparents have some great stories. I drove them around and helped them with the normal household stuff, like a good grandson, and kept the house up like a good roommate. Being central California, people have chimneys and fireplaces, but rarely for actual use. But they still get dirty, so I gave myself a project, clean the fireplace and the chimney. And guess what?

Treasure. Apparently, my grandmother used the fireplace as a stash bank, because I suppose hiding money around the house is a thing that her generation does, along with having accounts at multiple banks around town. And generally stowing away things of value and little cachets around your space. My grandmother had an old linen pillowcase with a bag inside with neatly wrapped bundles of cash. $65,000 in cash.

That's right. This was in 1996 money. I counted the bundles, and if they were correct, that was the total. And when I mentioned the chimney cash to my grandmother, she looked at me wide-eyed and caught. And I chastised her like a young person would about putting a stack of cash like that somewhere safe like at least a safe deposit box. My grandfather was absolutely unaware of the stash because she told me not to tell him

about it. He was also unaware of her many bank accounts we discovered when she passed away. And it says, who needs eight bank accounts? And then it says my grandmother was kind of loaded in the end. Anyway, when my granddaddy sold the house, the first thing I thought was I hope they checked the fireplace, because my grandmother was nothing if not a habitual and independent. They're both gone now, and I'm often lost in memories of them just being their funny, kooky selves. And it makes me smile. I have a lifetime of fun stories and memories

of Badass Grandma and Granddad moments. And as treasure goes, it's pretty exquisite. I apologize for going on a little long. Feel free to edit as you please. But remember, stay sexy. And remember to check the fireplace or back of the cupboard for treasure at your grandparents' house. At the very least, you'll find them

to be the treasure you seek. And then it says, by the way, the new homeowners did some major upgrades on that old house, and I have a sinking suspicion that my grandmother probably partially funded them with something left behind and discovered in the demolition. I bet. No name. Bag of cash under the floorboards.

Yeah. I wonder, it would be really cool to know exactly how old their grandparents were because to me that seems like they had money in banks during the stock market crash in like 29. Totally. Or their parents did or something where it's like, that's why you have eight bank accounts. Cause one of the banks could go under. Absolutely. Could go under, could get robbed and lose everything.

Wild. I love that. It's wild. Whew. I love that. Trust no one. But also, yeah, if you're going to stick all that money up at the chimney, birds could get in there and use it for their nest. Like that's crazy. That's like, you could just light it on fire if grandpa decides to light a fucking fire. Actually, you're right.

That would be the most likely thing. Fire first, birds next. Okay, my last story, it says, 90s dad glitch in the matrix story. This is very touching. Okay, so hi, love everything about you guys, but let's get right into it. This story is about my 90s dad, Jim,

and my family's crazy connection to his ride or die high school buddy Michael. My dad was a fun loving laid back guy who always had a witty comment for every situation or a clever nickname for anyone he came in contact with. This some expert level grilling and you'll thank me when your older chore lists were the basics of his parenting

when my brother and I were younger. Needless to say, my mom did most of the heavy lifting. And then in parentheses, it says, ah, the 90s. My dad was also a badass Marine in the Vietnam War, complete with a healthy dose of PTSD that was never appropriately dealt with and stories that were only ever retold to other Marines over the years. Nonetheless, he was extremely proud of his service and the Marine Corps.

The only story he would tell us kids, one that was retold multiple times, is how his best friend from high school, Michael, who was in basic training with him, switched places with another soldier to be drafted into the Marines to be with my dad. At this point in the war, a Marine post was basically a death sentence

as they were guaranteed to see heavy combat. Wow. So scary. Yeah. Thankfully, both came back to the states physically intact. Unfortunately, a year or so after being discharged, Michael was killed in a motorcycle crash. When my older brother was born a year later, Michael was chosen as his middle name to honor

my dad's close friend. My brother in turn chose this as his son's middle name years later. Fast forward to summer 2022. My dad's in a fierce battle with cancer, one that he would fight with honor and dignity for a year and a half. When my mom hears their next door neighbor yelling for her young son to come into the house. The name she's yelling is the exact name of my brother's son, so her interest is piqued. She goes over and introduces herself, and to her surprise, she recognizes the maiden name of the young mom. It was Michael's niece. Not only had she also named her son after her late uncle, but had moved in with her husband right next door to my parents.

They laughed about the coincidences and were a big help to my parents in the months to come as my dad would physically be able to do less and less. Sadly we lost my dad last June, but I never got over this fact that right when my dad was probably needing his best friend the most, his niece and her family moved in right next door. I won't even try to figure out why or what or who was responsible, but as my dad used to say, once a Marine, always a Marine. Stay sexy and never leave a buddy behind.

Hey. Oh my God. Ooh. Ooh. Good one to end on. Come on. Beautiful, so beautiful. All right, well send us your stories, you guys,

about whatever you fucking think. All the things that we read that other people have sent us in are on the table for you to send in as a story, as well as your own creative, not creative writing, not fictional, but your own idea of what you think is an interesting story. Yeah. Try to keep it like under four minutes of a read, I would say. There's so many good stories we get, but they're just a little too long. You know what I mean? They go on for pages. Be your own best editor. Time yourself. See how long it is.

Edit it and then send it in again. Send it again. And then stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an Exactly Right production. Our senior producer is Alejandra Keck. Our editor is Aristotle Acevedo. This episode was mixed by Liana Squalace.

Email your hometowns to MyFavoriteMurder at gmail.com. And follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at MyFavoriteMurder and on Twitter at MyFaveMurder. Goodbye!