My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 44

Episode Date: November 6, 2017

Karen and Georgia read your hometown stories from Houston and Dallas including Dean Corll connections, the Lawnmower Man, and more.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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

Yeah. Welcome to the podcast where we do our mini epists. Oh, my God, how are we doing with that? That was like a horrible acting class exercise where you have to do that for like a half an hour or someone. I was like, how does this make me cry about, like, you know, the death of a thing in acting? Death of a salesman? How does this make me cry about the death of a salesman?

It's because it's of all the shame you feel for having done it. I'm cute, yeah. I think back and you're like, oh, my God, I actually, I walked through honey. That was the one they always did in my movement class. Walked through honey. You had to like pretend you were walking through, you know what I mean, like shit like that where I'd just be like, I can't do this. I have to leave.

Does it work? Does it make you better? No. It just is like people who are willing to act like a praying mantis. Right. There's like, there are people who are willing to act like a praying mantis out there and then there are people who aren't. And then there are people who understand how lame it is and it has no connection to actual

acting and it's merely time-waster shit for acting school. Ooh, I'm on one tonight is getting political tonight. Send all your hate mail theater kids to, to whoever, to your parents because we don't care. We don't even care. We're bullies. That's right. Hey, this is my favorite murder, Minnesota, we read you back your emails where you tell

us your hometown murders, your like adjacent murders, your near misses. Did you get your hair cut? No, is it short? It just looks like a real good shape right now. Is that? Thank you. Yeah. No, it's growing out.

So does yours I was thinking. Really? I think I might be out of the Rachel phase. Your hair grew out. You got the good bang swoop going. Really? Thank you. Yeah.

I'm just so tired of looking like the woman from behind the dumpster in Mulholland Falls. I know it in Mulholland Drive. Mulholland Drive. Mulholland Falls is a Mulholland Drive and something falls mixed. What is it? Nick Nolte. Yeah, I forget it. It wasn't very good.

Will we look great tonight? Yeah. I mean tonight, tonight on the record, guys, the hair is happening. I washed my hair. That's probably what's different about it. I washed my tail. Oh, my God. It's like we're in regular society, humans.

This is the kind of commitment you can expect from Georgia and myself. On this podcast, we will clean ourselves for you. Yeah. And when we... So these are all... We're gonna... We're going to Texas this week and for live shows. Right.

And so these are hometown murders from Texas. Texas, we promise to bathe ourselves at least once this weekend while we're there. Squeaky clean. We'll do... I mean, we'll do our best to be. Yeah. At least one of us will bathe. Yeah.

If we can't both do it, we'll do a tag team. Yeah. Type of system. Yeah. And then I'll... The other one will use a lot of dry shampoo. Okay. Do you want me to go first?

Absolutely. Okay. This says, the subject line is, Elmer Wayne Henley confessed on my granddad's car phone. Wait. Shut up. Holy shit. We just did... We just did fucking Dean Corral.

Yep. Corral. Dean Corral. Right. Oh my God. Yeah. Mama. I killed Dean.

Ready? Oh my God. Yes. Okay. Hey, Karen of Georgia. My family is from a neighborhood just outside of the Heights in Houston, Garden Oaks. So I was especially disturbed by this week's story, which is your story he's talking about. At the time...

All right. At the time when the abductions were happening, my dad would have been the same age as a lot of the young boys who were killed. My granddad, Jack Cato, was also a crime reporter for Channel 2. In case you didn't know what we're talking about, this is the serial killer, Dean Corral, aka the Candy Man. We did it a couple episodes back. And he is horrifying.

A monster. He killed 30-something boys? 29. Some boys, like teenage and younger boys. Horrifying. Yeah. Okay. So the granddad, Jack Cato, is a crime reporter for Channel 2, the local station in the 70s.

So he says... I couldn't help but wonder if he had covered those murders and how awful that must have been. Then y'all got to the confession part and I jumped off the couch, freaking the crap out of my dog. I have heard this story a million times. That's because when Elmer Wayne Henley confessed to his mom, Mama, I killed Dean. He was using my granddad's car phone.

It's in a video you can watch. Oh, really? Yeah. On YouTube, there's a video of him doing that. Oh, it's so good. My granddad died in 2006 when I was a senior in high school. This was such a big moment in his reporting career. They included it in his obituaries over 30 years later.

Hell yeah, they did. He was on the scene. According to this one, my granddad handed Henley the car phone, knowing that he would be able to hear the whole conversation. Then he grabbed the camera, started filming, and caught the infamous confession on tape. If it's not too weird to say, it warmed my heart to be reminded of another part of my granddad's amazing life on one of my favorite podcasts, even if it was about a truly gruesome murder story from my hometown.

From one anxious depressed person who loves her therapist to another. All around. Hello. Stay sexy and don't get murdered. XOXO, Genevieve. Oh my God. That's awesome. I, for some reason at the beginning, assumed this was from a guy and said he at the beginning,

but that is so epic. I killed Dean. Mama. They have her side of the conversation on it, and that must be why, that must be how he got it. He had it all hooked up. Yeah. That is so legendary.

I love it. She's crying. He's crying. Jesus Christ. Wow. Thank you, Genevieve. Yeah. Well, I have a Dean Coral story, too.

Do you really? This has been, could have met the Candyman. Hello, Karen, Georgia Stephen, and esteemed associates. Elvis, that's you. That's my favorite one so far. Let's go get your briefcase. Dean just snows the head. Love the show.

Love you guys. Can't wait to see you in Dallas in November. In 1973, when I was 12 years old, my mother and I lived in an apartment complex in the North Houston neighborhood of Spring Branch. My best friend, Craig, also 12, and his older brother, Robert, 14, lived in the next complex over. We were all latchkey kids, so we usually spent the two and a half hours between school and dinner doing pretty much anything but homework.

The complex had a large courtyard that faced the street, and we hung out there a lot, farting around the way boys do at that age. Yep, teenagers. Salami and cheese. Salami and cheese sandwiches on white bread with mustard, right? That's boys in the 70s. That's it. One afternoon, not long before the last day of school, we were throwing a football around

when a guy pulled up in a van. He got out and walked over to where we were playing, looking up at the second floor apartments like he was trying to find his way around. He was older than us, probably 17 or so, and we didn't pay any attention to him until he walked up and started talking to us. He was really nice, tallish and thin with long brown, wait, with long blonde hair and wire-in glasses. Jess said hi and started shooting the shit, talking about football.

Robert, my friend's brother, spoke with him the most probably because he was older. The blonde guy invited Robert to a party, telling him there would be lots of girls there and that there'd be plenty of beer and food, even some weed if he wanted. Robert basically said, no thanks. Both he and Craig were from a pretty religious family, and then the guy turned to me. What about you? He said, come on, it'll be fun. I remember feeling that weird tingle in my stomach.

I'll never forget it. I have felt it a few times since, but this was the first time. Something was off. I was always a shy kid, so I looked at the ground and said something about how my mom wouldn't let me, and I'd get in trouble if I did, which was absolutely true besides. I was 12 years old. I didn't even really like girls that much, and yet I damn sure wasn't interested in beer and pot.

He didn't seem mad or irritated. He just said something along the lines of, that's too bad, man, catch you next time. He got in his van and drove off. That was it until a few months later when I saw his picture on TV. I recognized him right away. His name was David Brooks. He and Elmer Wayne Henley assisted serial killer Dean Coral for years by procuring boys for Coral to rape, torture, and murder than Barry in a boat shed and benches.

I remember during my teen years really resenting my mom's strictness, but then I would remember that. It was likely the very strictness that kept me off the torture board attended to by the Candy Man, and I'll cut her some slack. Thanks for listening. Stay sexy, and never, ever, ever get in the van. Yours, Glenn. Oh my God.

Dude. It's so creepy. Yeah. Like, but you could just do that back then. Yes. I mean, it's like wandering hippies starting up conversations was totally deregur. No one even thought about it. Like, that they would want to talk to young kids would make sense.

Yeah. I know. Thank God those boys were like, that's together and smart. Then religious like that alone, I feel like saved them from doing anything. Because they knew Satan was in their presence. They could feel him. Yeah. They could feel Satan.

Amen. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama killed Dean. Okay. This one, subject line is single fishnet stark. Single fishnet.

You got it. You got this. Keep going. Single fishnet stocking, jumper cables, and a lawnmower. Uh-oh. That sounds like a kill kit. Right. Hey, ladies, new binge listening fan here, also third generation cop and the daughter

of a homicide investigator. What? Hello, f***ed up childhood fascinations. What's a badass, mother f***ing? Yeah, I mean, really. Okay. I grew up in a small Texas town north of Dallas where stupid kids shooting BB guns into city hall is about the only excitement.

Oh my God. That's so badass. What the f*** kind of town and child does that? Hey, I'm going to go shoot. Okay. I'm sorry. Just excessively bored. Like they're trying to draw people out of the building.

Shooting into city hall. Yeah. That's my favorite. Okay. That sounds like everyone has a great sense of humor in this town. Uh-huh. Okay. So one morning my mother was returning home from dropping my younger sister off at school.

When she comes up on a man slumped over the steering wheel of a lawnmower. It's a trap. Don't go near. Don't go near. It's a scarecrow who is driving down the country road leading into town. She thinks. Trap. Okay, asshole.

It's a little early to be this f***ing drunk, but whatever. And she honks the horn at the guy. He lifts his head off the steering wheel and looks at her. She realizes his face is covered in blood. I thought it was going to be gone. His face was gone. I don't even know what that means, but I thought you were going to say that. Like how would his face even be gone?

His face was gone, but he's still driving that lawnmower. He's got to get that lawnmowed. And he's f***ing drunk. Wouldn't you be if your face was gone? That's right. If you don't feel it, you're just like the weekend. You don't feel your face. Um, okay.

His face was covered in blood. He continues driving as his bloody ass begins to slide off the seat and sees he's naked. What? Yes, podunk town, naked blood guy on a lawnmower driving toward town. Nothing to see here, right? She calls 911, turns the car around, making note of some random jumper cables lying in the street.

Just for her for not getting out of the car and like helping him. Oh, hell no. And then uses her car to direct him toward the downtown area where the ambulance would be coming from. The medics discover he's completely nude except for a single fishnet stalking on one of his legs. What? And his toenails were painted.

The man had been stabbed repeatedly, turns out lawnmower man, as he's been coined in our family, took a little trip to Dallas where he met a male sex worker. He brought his new friend back to his house where they engaged in some rather interesting sexual exploits, including the victim being tied up while the victim was tied up. The new friend sees this as the perfect opportunity to rob him and then proceeds to steal all his shit. Oh my God. While he watches, victim gets free, a scuffle ensues, the victim gets stabbed a lot, severely

injured. He manages to make his way outside after grabbing a gun. He's able to get a shot off at the suspect, striking him in the ass before the suspect makes off with his vehicle, wallet, phone and keys to the work truck he had. Then he spends, then he spots the lawnmower with the keys and the ignition, climbs in the street, finds the battery is dead. Dude somehow manages to get jumper cables from his work truck, open the hood, jump the lawnmower off, um, uh, all while steadily losing blood and keeping one fishnet stocking.

Police were able to locate the suspect by putting a police notice out to all area hospitals about an attempted murder suspect with a gunshot wound to the ass. The victim somehow survives and the suspect is located at a hospital in Dallas, Samantha. Oh, Dallas, Samantha, where's that? She just ended it. Period. She was just like, I'm done. I'm out.

I'm out of the story. I'm not telling you anymore. Fuck, yeah, Samantha. That was crazy. Oh my God. Did you see that movie, The Straight Story, where the guy drives, he's going to drive his, uh, kind of like the small tractor across America to go see his daughter or something. No.

It's kind of like that, but the like dirty, bloody version of it, the sexy version. Wow. Well, that's not shooting booby, BB guns and booby guns. All right. Looking for a better cooking routine with meal planning, shopping and prepping handled. Hello Fresh has you covered. Hello Fresh makes home cooking easy and affordable so you can stay on track and on budget in the new year.

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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. This is called, okay, there's little musical notes around this title subject if you want to be a killer.

Oh, I get it. If you want to be, okay. From what? I don't know. I don't know. Sing it again. I don't want to. I think it's...

Come on! I want to get with my friends. It's the... Oh, if you want to be... I'm not a killer. Okay, got it. I guess. I could be wrong if you want to.

No, I'm probably wrong. Do you know the rap part of that song? Yes, I was... Do it. Do it. Absolutely not. Don't try to humiliate me on the live podcast. I'm not.

Do it. Do it. No, maybe. I'll surprise you one day. I'm blushing. Let's talk about murder. Okay. Hey, y'all, because I was going to murder that burst.

That's right. Hey, y'all, first off... Hey, y'all, it's so... Thank you for making me laugh during my commute to my soul-sucking call center job. Thank you, guys. Truly make traffic more bearable. Thank you. Oh, my God.

You guys got me through this thing and some people are like, I don't hate traffic anymore. That's right. My job sucks. I got that. I get it. Here's my hometown attempted murder. I live in the suburbs north of Dallas, and when I was in high school, I took German for four years.

Truly a great and useful decision for someone who lives in Texas. When I was a freshman, there was a kid in my German class named Edward, who was a true weirdo. He had really long nails when he used them to shred up his graded papers after a teacher handed them out. No. He was mostly quiet, except to say some weird or creepy shit every once in a while, oh, what's up, Edward?

Yes. One time, I think a date of this guy in high school. I would have been totally in love with Edward. He's so deep. I think he's part wolf. One time, he brought in a shoebox to class, and when we all asked him what was in it, he opened it to reveal a collection of animal skulls. Yep, you're right.

What were you going to say? It's like something like dead birds or whatever. I was going to say fingernail clipping, but it's animal skulls. Naturally, since we were all like 15, we just made fun of him and would joke that he was going to be a serial killer one day. Later that summer, my mom picked me up from camp and asked if I knew a kid named Edward who went to the same high school as me. Turns out that over the summer, he had tried to kill someone.

He rang a doorbell and when a teenager who was at home alone opened the door, Edward shot him twice in the chest. The kid pretended to be dead, and after Edward left, he was able to call 911 and get help. When he was caught, Edward apparently told the cops that he was playing a game called Ding Dong Dai. That's not a real game. You made that up, Edward. You can't just say it's something's a game.

And like the other person's not playing it, it's a one-sided game. No one wants A, no one wants to play that game with you. It B, it sounds like a terrible movie from the 80s. Totally. Or now. It's like corn ball, Edward. Yeah. Let's play.

Okay. He also confessed to another attempted shooting that had happened a couple weeks earlier. Edward confessed to the police that he had dreamed of becoming a serial killer, was interested in cannibalism, and wanted to make a tapestry of his victim's skin along with a lot of other wacky goals and dreams. What? We all have goals and dreams. I mean, Edward says you have to have one passion in life.

Mine is a tapestry. Luckily, he was sentenced to life in prison, and in the end, his victim fully recovered. I think that's weird. That's good. Yeah. I think everyone in my class felt bad that we had never taken Edward's behavior seriously. Sorry, this is so long, but I hope you guys enjoy it. I can't wait to see you all in Dallas in November.

Stay sexy and don't take German, Sydney. Oh, it's so true. Oh, God. I took French. Did you? Pointless. I took typing instead of a language. Oh, that's good.

Is it? Yeah, I mean. I'm pretty fast. You're pretty fast, Amber. We'll see you soon, Texas. That's really exciting. Thanks. Thanks for sending those in.

You can send your, you know, that doesn't have to be a murder, it could be like weird shit. Yeah. It's my favorite murder at Gmail. And in the meantime, stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Bye. Bye.

Bye. If you want to be in my number, you got to get with my friends. Elvis. You want to be a Spice Girl? You want cookie? Elvis, you want cookie? There he is