My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 68

Episode Date: April 30, 2018

This week’s hometowns include a JFK connection and a false confession.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. Hi. Welcome to a mini episode of My Favorite Murder.

Yes. This is the podcast. Mini podcast. The mini version of the larger podcast where we read you shit. And we talk about true crime and we commit to never planning the opening of any podcast that we do. Please, that is our guarantee to you. We're going to go out into that question mark and then keep it a question mark.

You can get, we guarantee you, we guarantee you that we will never know what we're going to say. And I believe that you'll believe us when we guarantee you that. Really quick, I just want to say time wise, I know this is going to go up at a totally different time, but for us, it's still the day after the press conference of them catching the Golden State Killer, I am, I would say only 15 less, 15% less excited than I was yesterday. And like, I can't stop looking for information.

It's driving me fucking that shit. So what's the one piece of information that one day later you're excited about? Oh, there's so much. Oh, that photo that you sent me this morning. Yes. It looks like someone screen grabbed and it's, I'm so mad at myself because I was watching the ID for part. What is it called?

It's Golden State Killer, it's not over, but they got across that out and be like, it's fucking over. They have to be like, here's five more episodes because here's the continuation. Definitely. Someone screen grabbed just a really quick shot of the fucking, what is it called, not press conference town hall meeting side by side. It looks like him 100% in at the meeting that you sent me where it's on our Twitter page.

Yes. Someone made it, I think someone made it on the Facebook page first and then someone saw it on the Facebook page and sent it to us on Twitter, but retweeted that. It's very, it's very important that you know every step, we just never want to take credit for something that's not ours, right? But we don't want it so much that we're going to write your name down on a piece of paper. I certainly won't. But the cool part about it or like the thing that I, I couldn't stop looking at that picture

because this is a person not who looks like we, I was looking, right? It's not someone who's trying to keep their head down or has the right hair, swoop, you know, nothing like that. But my point is his energy is as if he's at a campfire. Yeah. He's taking up all kinds of space. He is like, there's, you can see it. It looks like he's happy to be amongst his fellow man.

He has a yellow shirt on, which is almost like a look at me fucking thing. Yes. And he doesn't seem, he's, he's playing it so perfectly of you would never look at that guy. Yeah. And he looks intense. It's like he's listening intently. Yeah.

But slightly smiling. Like when you look at that picture of his face, he looks happy in that picture. Plus Ma Ananshila is in the foreground of it. Who also looks a lot like my friend, Alicia Gonzalez, who used to live in Sacramento. She has that same face. Conspiracy. Could it be that my friend's mother is actually Ma Ananshila? There you go.

Who was at the fucking Golden, sitting next to the Golden State Killer. Yeah. It makes sense. So weird to see adults from the seventies sitting cross, like on the floor. Yep. Remember when your mom or dad would sit on the floor with you and you'd be like, this is weird. I have to say, I don't think my mother ever sat on the floor.

She was always in some kind of a chair with a high ball in her hand. It's like three in the morning. She is like, girls, I'm tired. Could you play somewhere else? Right. It was always how it was. Well, I have a Golden State Killer quick one. Hell yeah.

What should we say for the end or should I just get out of the way right now since we're talking about it? Because it's not like, you know, but we're not, we don't have a lot of like good ones yet because it's all so new. It's all to come, to come, to come. Yes. So this is called the Golden State Killer is my customer. You fucking guys, please don't use my name.

I work for the phone company for Citrus Heights. And when the news broke yesterday about D'Angelo, I knew he sounded familiar. Turns out all caps. I disconnected his home phone in August. Ooh. What? I found out the street name and saw the news coverage right outside the house. I went total stalker mode.

I Google mapped the street and clicked through until I found his house and address because duh and then searched it in our system. He's been our customer since 1987. He called to have his home phone turned off and I remember him wanting it turned off immediately. But we have to ask questions for reasons for his reason for disconnecting. My notes say someone is listening to my calls and I just don't want it anymore. Oh my God. Do you think that he was even bugged in August?

Well, I don't, either he was super paranoid or he was bugged and knew it. I bet he was super paranoid. And also being an ex-cop, he would know what cops do and can do. Or what it sounds like when your call is being traced. Click, click, click, click, click. And then he says, you guys, I talked to this guy for 20 minutes and had no idea it was him. Well, obviously.

Right. How could you not know? SSDGM. Wow. Wow. Okay. Can I see this? What if he needed to get his phone disconnected because that's the fucking phone he was calling

and harassing victims with. Yeah, totally. They were going to trace it back to him. But also the idea is like the phone line, the history of the phone line still exists. That's such an odd way to go like, oh, I can't call anymore. Therefore no one's going. It's like, they'll know you had it. Well, we do have a neighbor who's writing about how her daughter babysat the daughters

in the 80s. So hopefully she'll write into. Oh, wow. Yeah, we'll see. I mean, yeah, that's the other crazy thing too. He's still alive, which means there's all kinds of connections. Oh, the one thing I did want to say, which somebody else tweeted and people were talking about because someone posted the article from the Huffington Post of the woman who wrote

about how hard it was because her father was a serial killer and how awful it was for her. And so, yeah, just that. And when the person posted that, they were just like the families are victims too. Absolutely. Everybody needs to keep in mind because there's tons of people going to the house and of course there's lucky lose everywhere. But it's like, but you have to remember there's people in that neighborhood, people inside that house, like it's, you know, don't know they're totally victims and people always

want to be like, how did you not know you had to know it's your fault for you didn't want to know. But it's like, you know, no one would know that no one's like me, who suspects every single person around her is a fucking pedophile murderer. Well, and also we know that sociopaths and psychopaths are the perfect. They are the the wolves in sheep's clothing. They know exactly how to trick everybody. Especially the people closest to them.

Yeah. They're it's Jacqueline Hyde. So standing way back and being like, how could you not know, it's like, get out of here. Yeah. Okay, you go now. Okay. I'm going to start with an oldie. Okay.

This one's fascinating. The subject line is mom type JFK's murder report. Hello, Georgia, Karen, Steven and pets. When JFK was president, my mom was a 21 year old badass working as a secretary for the FBI. Nice. I mean, I can just see her. I can see it's like a light green dress with white piping.

She looks great. She is. It's summertime. Matching a little Bolo jacket. Yeah. Sent some like green flats with like a little thick heel at the bottom. Yeah. Nice chunky kind of a quarter inch.

Sensible. Sensible. But still feminine. She was such a fast. Oh, sorry. Back then that was the only job. That was the only type of job a woman could get with them with the FBI. She was such a fast and competent worker that she quickly rose through the ranks and was

given a high security clearance. Hell yeah. Hmm. Bobby Kennedy used to come and sit on the edge of her destiny candy from a bowl that she had there. I bet Bobby did. Bobby. One.

Sorry. That's such a great visual. It is. On the day, JFK was assassinated. She was actually off from work. She was getting her incredible sixties hair set at the beauty salon. But as she stepped outside, she saw a woman nearby suddenly scream and drop her grocery bags all over the sidewalk.

Mom rushed over and saw the news reports which were airing on TVs in the store's window display. Wow. That's so cinematic. She immediately ran the five blocks to the FBI building. She knew it would be all hands on deck. Eventually she was told to go home and rest up that she would be that she would need it. A few days later, she was taken by an FBI agent to an interview room and given several pages

to type. She was one of five typists working on the report, not 100% sure of the number, but it was something like that. And the agent with her would bring her a section of the report, then she'd type it, give it back to him to proofread and then correct any mistakes he found. He would then leave the room and come back with a new section for her. All these sections were provided out of order so that not one typist knew too much. After more than 24 hours, she finally finished and went sent home.

She was so exhausted that she fell asleep on the bus and would have missed her stop if the driver hadn't known her and woke her up. So 60s. To this day, she has never told anyone what she typed. Even now, even now with some of it becoming public records, she won't say. She signed an oath to never reveal the contents and she is too sexy to break it. Later, she received a letter signed by J. Edgar Hoover and President Johnson thanking her for her service to her country in its hour of need.

She got it framed and keeps it buried in her closet. What the fuck, mom? Put that thing over at the fireplace. It says that in parentheses. Why don't you tell your mom that? Just go upstairs. She also received invitations to the next several presidential inaugurations, though she never went.

I fucking love this woman. Also as a part of her training to work for the FBI, she had to go to charm school. Yes, you heard me and no, I'm not making it up. Walking with books on your head, learning how to sit properly, knees together bitches and cross your ankles, only hose, cross the whole leg and then there's two laughing face emojis with tears. They were just some of the many skills that she had to acquire. That's so nuts.

She was also there during MLK Jr.'s famous speech and attended many state dinners and government functions. The stories she tells are both funny and fascinating. I've told her many times she should write a book about what it was like to work for the FBI and to be in DC during that period of time, but she can't believe anyone would be interested in reading it. Honey. You are wrong, mom.

Can't wait to see you again in Atlanta, SSDGM Tracy. Oh my God, can we get her mom on stage to tell her literal hometown murder and finally reveal what she wrote? The idea that she won't break an oath, that the information of which is now public record online makes me fucking worship that one, that is so, that's what it's supposed to be about. Yeah. You fucking, you make a promise?

Sorry, I made a promise. I would have told everyone by now. I can't keep one fucking piece of information in my mouth. One. Never tell me anything. No. I'll either forget it or I'll tell everybody. I just don't.

Yeah. It's just how I am. Secrets are stupid. I mean, it's more fun to know shit. It's so much more fun to tell shit and talk about shit. Yeah. All right. Here we go.

This is called, my mom was manipulated into cleaning up a crime scene. Oh no. By you. This is a really funny one. My brother, my brother always said my mom was born to be a mother. What a great opening line. No hello or anything, but my brother always, no, I guess. Yeah, we're in.

No, we're in. I like it. We, when we both moved out, she downsized to a townhouse across town and became the mother to the world. She was constantly giving neighbors rides, cooking them dinner and having long conversations about their hopes and dreams. I need her in my neighborhood. This is a mom episode.

One day she was driving back home and she saw a man smoking beside the row of townhouses. She got out and introduced herself because she doesn't believe in the cardinal rule to fuck politeness. The man said he was the older brother to one of her neighbors and he was there to settle his affairs as he had committed suicide the night before. My mother knowing everyone in the neighborhood was besides was my mother knowing who everyone in the neighborhood was was asked if there was anything she could do. He told her no, but he had just wished his mother didn't have to see the scene inside.

My mom asked why no one had come to clean up the scene and he told them that they didn't provide that service to suicides. My psycho mother went down to her house, grabbed her gloves, buckets and cleaners and returned. She told me she could never have prepared herself to this for the scene inside. After she was done, she returned home and went about her life as she didn't, as if she didn't mop up blood and brains off the floor a few hours ago. Shortly after, the cops came knocking. Apparently, this suicide was never reported and was a murder.

The victim had no brother. Oh my God! When the cops asked her why she had aided the man and cleaning the crime scene, she simply told them she thought his mother was coming and no mother should ever have to see something so gruesome. My mother was eventually cleared of having anything to do with the murder and was given the compliment that she had done a great job disposing of the evidence. Stay sexy and don't mop up crime scenes, Jojo.

Oh my fucking God! That is so insane, but it like, nothing about that even, I didn't see that coming at all. I'm sorry, but the guy smoking in the car is kind of a genius because if you say my brother committed suicide, you're not going to sit there grilling the person on like, did he? Yeah. You're immediately going to be like, let me help you. Oh my God, let me help you.

That's so terrible. That person totally played her like a fiddle. I wonder who he was. I mean, besides from a murderer, a side of me. Also, well, that's a good thing for everybody to know. They do send, you know, when things happen, go ahead and let the authorities get involved first. And if they don't, there's a company you can hire to do that.

And the reason is nobody, it's a very traumatizing probably. Yeah, it's not for neighbors to do. No, this isn't a fucking broom and swiffer situation. This isn't, you don't need your house to be broom swept. Goddamn. That's so heavy. Okay. And for a better cooking routine, with meal planning, shopping and prepping handled, Hello

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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.

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Download the app today. The subject line for this is, it turns out my dad wasn't having an affair, a Drew Peterson hometown. Oh dear. Hi Georgia, Karen, and Steven. I was listening to last week's mini-sode and I got so nervous that I missed out on the chance to share my hometown story. When I was young, maybe seven or eight, my dad would occasionally take me over to this woman Nancy Peterson's house.

It seemed super sketchy to me because they were always in another room. They were always short visits and would leave me in a room to hang out with her daughters who are younger than me. Eventually her kids would leave and then my dad would come and get me and we would go home. Eventually I just assumed my father was having an affair because I watched too many soap operas and had an act of imagination. Oh my God, I love it.

That's really funny. In my defense, I also thought my mom was having an affair with her chiropractor because I saw him rubbing her back all the time. What did she wear? Yeah, exactly. That was the one you were right about. That was the one. Well, eventually this stopped and I never really thought anything of it until later when I was in my 20s, stories started coming out about Drew Peterson's fourth wife going missing. My dad casually brings up our visit to Nancy's house in front of my mom.

I was like, dad, mom can totally hear you. He was so confused. He explained to me that the reason we used to go to Nancy's house was that she was going through a divorce with Drew Peterson's brother and Drew would come over and harass Nancy and her kids. My dad worked with both Drew and Nancy, so he would be there to keep Drew in check. Since my dad and Drew were both police officers, he knew that Drew wouldn't start shit in front of him.

Oh my God. Clearly, I wasn't giving my dad enough credit thinking that he was cheating on my mom instead of being a good guy and protecting this woman and her kids. My mom and dad both thought it was hilarious and made fun of me for hiding their affairs. Yeah. Which is really funny. Thank you, ladies, for all you do. The way you talk about anxiety and therapy helps decrease the stigma of mental health

issues and makes the world a better place, one murderer at a time. SSTGM Sarah, well, Sarah, you just made the world a better place. That was very, I guess I think I would be pissed at my daughter if I was like, you suspected this thing and you never told me. You wouldn't be proud that she's not a snitch? Absolutely not. Snitches get candy. Oh.

Oh, that is it. I would have had it wrong. This whole time. That sounds more right. You're right. What would it be if you were eight and you're just like, mom, I need you to sit down. We have to have a turn the TV off. We have to have a talk.

I feel like you're my favorite. I love you. You're so much better than your brothers and sisters. Yeah. All right. Should I do one more? Do it. Okay.

This one's, I won't tell you the name of it, but it says Lighthearted. Okay. Hey, Stephen, Georgia and Karen. Then it says in parentheses, I'm not really an animal person. Love the podcast and I can't wait to see you in Dublin in May. I'm from Connecticut, but I'm currently studying abroad in Ireland. So in the early sixties, my great uncle and great aunt were newlyweds living in Boston while my uncle attended Harvard Med School.

Aren't you smart? Rich. At the same time, the Boston Strangler was in full swing. Between 1962 and 64, 13 women between the ages of 19 and 85 were raped and strangled to death, usually by their own, by their nylon stockings by the Boston Strangler. The murders took place in the women's apartments and since there was no sign of fourth century, it was assumed that the women let the Strangler in either because they knew him or because they thought he was a delivery man, delivery maintenance man of some sort.

Yeah. Listen to the Stranglers podcast, right? Yeah. Okay. It's really good. It is. All right. So one night, sometime in the midst of the Stranglers active years, my great uncle and great aunt

were watching TV before they went to sleep. The news reported another murder that they suspected was done by the Strangler and my great aunt made a comment about how horrifying the crimes were. That's when my great uncle decided to turn to her, look her in the eye and say, Pat, I have something to confess. I'm the Boston Strangler. My great aunt freaked the fuck out, completely believing him. My great uncle immediately realized he had made a grave error, recanted his, quote, confession

and started frantically explaining to my great aunt all of the reasons why he could not possibly be the Boston Strangler. She eventually calmed down, but she said that they slept with a light on that night. Thankfully, the real killer ended up confessing and my great uncle and great aunt are still happily married today. Stay sexy and don't falsely confess to murder, Caroline. Caroline, you know that a lot of people think that the guy they arrested was it? Yeah.

DeSalvo. DeSalvo. DeSalvo. They think he, they think that it isn't real. He definitely killed, they got a DNA match on at least one of the murders. Oh, is that true? But it's pretty common knowledge that there are multiple killers. Using the same thing.

Using, all using the nylons around the neck and old lady cats, maybe, yeah. So, but that's why you should listen to the, the podcast is so great. I really wanted it. The Strangler, some of those, the details of some of those crimes are so disturbing and fucked up and it's like, yeah, it's so hard to hear with like little old ladies. Not that like fucking young women with their lives ahead of them aren't hard enough. It's all hard. Yeah.

Every time you listen to one, it's hard. Yeah. Yeah. It's especially hard. Is that all we got? I think that's all we have. All right. Well, that's like, that was like quite a mini-sode.

A lot of packed. There's a lot of people aren't given secrets away, a lot of badass moms. A lot of snitches. A lot of bitches. Getting candy. Yes. Uh, thanks for listening. Send in your hometown, um, whatever you'd like it to be.

We're, we're taking all information. Yeah. My favorite murder at Gmail. And stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Goodbye. Elvis, you want a cookie?

Yeah.