My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 87

Episode Date: September 10, 2018

This week’s hometowns include an arms dealer and drug drops.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. Hi. And welcome. To my favorite murder. The mini-soad of a lifetime. Of the hour, of a lifetime. Of your dreams, of your nightmares. This is the one where you email us your hometown murders, your creepy stories, things in walls, fascinating grandparents, whatever you need to tell us that you know we'll like and we read it on the air. Yep. On air, live on the air. Live on the air. I actually have a very important corrections corner that I know we don't do that on mini-soads,

but I'm going to do it on this one and then I'm going to do it on our Thursday show. Is it about a guy named Johnny? It's about a guy named Jimmy Somershill. It's about a conversation George and I were having about pedophiles in England and because it was off of that and George just said, what's the name of that guy? And of course, I always want to be the person that knows the name of the guy. And I'm always so impressed with how you know every name. So it was like, yes, moving on. Yeah, we did it. And Jimmy Somerville, the name that I named, is the lead singer or the singer from the Communards and the Bronski Beat, an amazing musician and performer and a lovely person according to all the tweets I've been getting about the mistake I made and how awesome he is, which

actually there's a really good video of Jimmy Somerville. He walks by as a busker is singing his song and he stops and sings along with the guy. And somebody sent it to us. I've seen it on the internet. We'll put it on the Twitter page. Jimmy Saville was the horrifying pedophile that DBC. Yes, weird presenter that was a super creep. So, so one be angel by all accounts, Jimmy Somerville, one billion apologies. Jimmy Somerville, please stop repeating that I said that and don't ever tell him. Absolutely repeated on the main episode. At hilarious. It's just not fair. There's no fact checker. I was so right in that moment. Oh, I was like, oh, you're so good at this. Yes. Moving on. There was there's a bill in there. It sounded right to me. There were

both S's, Vills and Jimmy's. What do you want? That's as close as it's gonna get on this podcast. Hey, let me read your story. Let's change the subject. Good, good idea. Okay, this is called the way I can't tell you what it's called, but I think you'll like it. Okay. Greetings, MFM crew. Great. My name is Addison and I'm 13 years old. Uh-oh, Addison. Bad girl. And proud member of the fan cult. You guys have made my long car rides to soccer tournaments and flying, driving to see family so much easier. My mom got me hooked on you on you guys and now you're the only podcast I listen to. Addison. We're popular with the kids. We're popular. Oh, what's that? What generation is that? I think it's generation fuck now. Isn't that? Um, you brought my mom and I closer than

ever. So thank you. Yes. The estrangement from being 12 to being 13. It is actually the worst time with your mom. Oh, are you kidding me? I fucking hated my mom. Addison, we're so with you in your junior high life. We know how it feels. The hormones. Addison, you don't even know that it's not even your fault. It's please know it's not your fault. It gets better. You're gorgeous. I live in Lethbridge, a somewhat small town in southern Alberta. I live in a modern suburban neighborhood with a lot of playgrounds. I know a child's dream. Uh-oh, Addison Sassy. When I was around nine years old when she was a kid, my sister and I were playing on one of the playgrounds. All of a sudden two girls came up to us and asked if we wanted to play grounders with them.

My sister and I said yes, that must be a Canadian thing. Sure. Uh, and we had a great time. Later that day, we found out that they lived right across the street. My sister didn't like them, but I did. I would go to their house regularly. The first time I went to their house, I was told that I wasn't allowed in the basement, but being a nine year old, I just brushed it off. The parents of the two kids were pretty sketchy, but again, being a stupid nine year old, I just brushed it off. After having, after hanging out with these girls for a while, we stopped hanging out until they got three kittens. I get it. Now thinking back on it, uh, it was kind of rude only hanging out with them because they had kittens, but hey, who wouldn't? That's right.

Later that week, I was stupid and said something to hint to them that I was only hanging out with them to play with the kittens. The older sister got really mad and we stopped hanging out. About two years later, I was home alone and saw blue and red lights outside my window, the police, being a crime of sess 11 year old. I was too scared to go ask what was happening. So I just quietly sat and watched from my room. Later, uh, I saw the mom and dad come out of the house and handcuffs curious of what happened. I went to my neighborhood group chat and asked what happened. No one knew. Later on the city news, uh, all was revealed why they had been so sketchy and why I wasn't allowed in the basement. And this is all caps. They had a goddamn meth lab

in the basement. I was kind of shocked. Anyways, stay sexy. And if people say you're not allowed in the basement, get the hell out of there. Addison. Yeah. Addison, that's right. Addison, you're smart. You're smart beyond your 13 years and my 13 years at that age too. Jesus Christ. We need to, Addison, tell your mom we need to talk to her real quick. Okay. Um, I'm not going to read you the subject line of this. Okay. The subject line was a meth lab across the street. Right. Yeah. Okay. So, Hey Karen, Georgia, Stephen and associated furry friends. Uh, when I was a naive college student in Los Angeles back in the nineties, Hey, my roomies and I won the lottery to move to off campus housing for our junior year. I was

particularly excited because I got to move in by myself over the summer because I had an internship in the university publications office feeling very grown up and independent. I settled in and selected the bedroom that didn't share a wall with the neighbor smart. He was in his twenties, didn't go to my school, enjoyed loud music and seemed to sleep in the day and be up late at night. Sometimes people left packages at his doorstep and it wasn't UPS. He was always friendly though and told me to let him know if his music ever bothered me. My roommates moved in just before school started and immediately started griping about all the music volume. Just tell him to move the stereo. He's a nice guy. I said, all three stared at me like I was insane. I'm not talking

to him. He's a drug dealer. My roommate, Tessie said, Oh, my roommate, Tessie said, well, Tessie could be pretty snap judgment dish. So I rolled my eyes and asked him to turn down the music myself. He was very nice and understanding. We had no other problem until a few weeks later. One night I was working on a late deadline in the student publications office when I got a phone call from Tessie who sounded seriously irritated, but it was something else that caught my attention. What are all those male voices? I asked curiously. Oh, that would be the SWAT team, Tessie said. You know that nice neighbor? Well, he had over 400 guns in his apartment. He's an arms dealer. Oh my God. I didn't think that timing was right to point out that I was right about the fact that

he wasn't a drug dealer. My blood still runs cold when I consider that I had been there all summer by myself while my neighbor was merrily, merrily arming the neighborhood. Stay sexy and be suspicious of accommodating neighbors who keep strange hours, Barbara. The arms dealer is the last thing I would have thought. Yeah. That seems like real risky to just keep guns in your house. 400 of them. 400 guns. Those don't like, you know, they're not compact. Well, maybe, I don't know. I don't, I mean, yeah, that's, he's really rolling the dice there. Yeah. And it didn't work out. Turns out it didn't. Turns out. Turns out crime does not pay for long. Okay. I'm not going to read you the name of this one. Right. Ready? Okay. Hello Karen, George. I've seen it. And pets.

This is a story about the length my grandparents went for their growing family. My grandparents lived in the same house since they'd gotten married in the early fifties. It started out as a two bedroom house, which was fine for them and my dad. That was until my grandmother became pregnant with my aunt. My grandfather didn't know what to do since they lived off his salary as a construction worker. And comes his older brother who worked in the local train yard and suggested that they steal from a lumber shipment that had just come in the day before. That's a great idea. His older brother worked at night, worked at night shift and my grandfather quote, borrowed a flatbed truck from the job site. Along with his baby brother to help the older brother opened the gate to the

train yard in the late hours of the night. They loaded the truck with as much lumber as they could and then drove off without being seen. Ooh, they split the loot three ways. The older brother used it to burn the baby brother built a patio and this sounds like a fairy tale. And my grandfather built a three bedroom addition along with a rec room. Oh my God. This apparently happened before the sixties and none of my aunts and uncles knew about it until after my grandfather had his stroke and his filter went away. He spilled the beans in 2016 and my grandmother confirmed it saying, I never thought he would let that one slip. We were all impressed with how long they kept that secret. He said that he was so worried about getting caught that he built the addition really

quickly. That's why the ceilings in the upstairs bedrooms were so low. The ceiling fan would hit me in the head and why some of the steps on the stairs were higher than others. Unfortunately, my grandmother passed away in September of last year and my grandfather followed before Christmas. They were both wonderful people whose ill-gotten addition allowed them to grow their family and also become foster parents. Oh, they gave back. That's right. My girlfriend and I love your show and hope to see you live if you ever come to Ottawa or Montreal, SSJM Dennis. Amazing. Love it. That actually reminds me of a story. My friend, Mick, who was from the east end of London, his father was a tile worker and he got a job retiling a bathroom in the in the Buckingham

Palace. And so they were in there doing it and every day that he would go in and work, he would take like 20 tiles of his own and then he he retiled their bathroom in their apartment on the east end. So they had they had one bathroom they called the Royal bathroom because it was it was the exact same tile as the bathroom in the palace. That's amazing. Don't tell anybody that we don't want to we don't want to bust those people unless that's if that's traceable, but that is my favorite fucking story because it's like they're the ones they're putting in the elbow grease. Totally. I mean, and they're not going to be like what is going to be a couple of hundred tiles. Single shit, please. Come on. It's fine except for our arms guns, our bent dealers.

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but the trail quickly runs dry. As the air supply for the trapped children dwindles, a pair of unlikely heroes emerges. Follow against the odds wherever you get your podcast. You can listen ad free on the Amazon music or Wondery app. Okay, again, let's just not read subject line. Great time. Georgia Karen Steven and four legged friends. I was listening a few to a few minisodes that mentioned a serial masturbator and something about Venice. No, that's Swiss cheese. I freaked out when I realized that I finally had something to send you guys. In May of 2017, I was traveling through Europe alone at the ripe age of 20. Unfortunately, I hadn't found the MFM podcast yet, which may have helped me be less of a

dumbass in situations like these. I mean, who I was, I took a weekend trip to Venice and spent two days getting lost in the streets and eating a sickening amount of pasta. That's my dream. It was one of the most magical places I'd ever visited. My train was scheduled to depart at 1pm. So I made my way to that side of the city early. So I didn't have to rush. I found this cute little park and felt like I was living my best life eating biscotti and reading a book on a bench in Venice at 20. And don't forget your 20. Your 20 best time of your life. I took off my glasses, which I need if I want to see more than two feet in front of my face. I felt pretty safe because there were families walking their dogs and other people sitting on benches in the park.

As I'm sitting peacefully reading and minding my own damn business, I hear a rustling in the bushes. I figured it was some kind of rodent or birds or whatever. And I didn't bother putting on my glasses. But then I realized that the sound wasn't stopping and it was very consistent. I had an uneasy feeling and proceeded to put my glasses back on. Mistake. Maybe 20 feet in front of me, I see a man standing near a tree, staring at me in the eyes and furiously masturbating. Naturally, I freaked out and threw all my stuff in my backpack and ran the fuck out of there. You guys are the first people I've ever told this story because I think my friends would find it more horrifying than entertaining. Oh my god. I don't get freaked out very easily. So I just

brushed it off in the moment. Thinking back on it now, I really hope that dude didn't scare some little girl who's just trying to have a good time in the park. I don't know what else I could have done in the moment because my Italian is not good enough to have that kind of discussion with the police. Well, when in Rome, I guess. Thanks for making this dope podcast. Maybe I'll be ready the next time some old dude is being an asshole in public. Stay sexy and don't let old Venetian men use your use your first sexual gratification Caroline. Oh, the eye looking the in the eyes directly in the eye, but also that he was old. Oh, God, I didn't really pick up on that until the very end. Yeah, that's not good. Old creepy masturbator. He's probably looking at her being

like that looks like the bet. He's masturbating over the best day that she's having. He's so jealous that she gets to be 20. Oh my god. You're yeah, you're your high class lifestyle is giving me a boner that I have to take care of. All right, I have one more. Addison, I hope you didn't hear that part. God damn it. Addison. Okay, I'm not going to read you the name of this one. Hello, ladies, cats, dogs and Steven. Your recent episode about the boys on the tracks reminded me of when I was eight years old and found myself in the middle of a drug drop zone. I thought you'd want to hear about it. Yes. It was 1979 and me, my mom, stepdad and cat were living on a sailboat. Wow. That was amazing. Everyone's cat with a boat. So much glamour on this many so seriously.

My stepdad was a boat builder and quite the seafarer. So so much so that we sailed our boat from Miami to the Bahamas. Wow. One day we were sailing from one island to another just enjoying the sun and crystal clear water. When boom, we felt something hit the boat. You know, it's really weird as I'm literally listening to a book that is that the it is about this is like the topic. Wait, let me see what the book is real quick so people can read it. Okay, it's something in the water by Catherine Steadman when they find something while they're like boating and it's similar. Amazing. Sorry. Go on. No, I'm reading. Okay. Something hit the boat. Knowing there was no rocks or other boats in sight, we couldn't imagine what it was. My stepdad leaned over the

side of the hull and grabbed onto the huge wooden crate that was bobbing along in the water. He pried the top off and the crate was full of weed. What? My stepdad estimated that was probably worth $25,000. My parents argued back and forth over whether to keep it or not. My stepdad claiming that we could be set and my mom's stating that someone will come looking for that. At eight years old, he had no idea what weed was, but judging by my parents' reaction, I assumed we had just won the lottery. I began fantasizing about all of Barbie's and candy I would buy. And you'd want to buy too. That's right. My mom won the argument. My stepdad let go of the crate and grumbled. We'll never have that up and we'll never have another opportunity

like that again in our lifetime. He barely got the words out before boom. Another crate of weed hit our vote again. Again, the arguing ensued. And again, my mother won. I don't know. That would be so hard to turn down, right? I don't know, though, because that is the mother's right. You're inviting either you're going to get put in jail because they think the drug drop was for your boat or there's going to be drug dealers. Well, they didn't know it was a drug drop. Hold on. I should finish this. Okay. About 10 minutes later, a speedboat came racing towards us from one of the islands. My parents thought for sure that it was the owner of the weed and that we were about to be in deep shit. Luckily, there's a sweet native man who warned us that we were in the middle of a

drug zone or a drop zone and get the hell out of there because the drug runners were watching us with binoculars from the nearest island. Apparently, planes would drop the crates and the current would move them between the islands. We think the man pulled our sail down to put the engines into high gear and hauled ass out of there. Stay sexy and keep out of drop zones. Can't wait to see you in San Francisco, Linda. Yeah. You know what? That's the thing to think of is what if you're being watched? Yeah. What if you're being watched by the worst case scenario person that could be watching you? I can think of now when I hear of someone finding shit like that. And the thing is when you're finding drugs, it's different because then you have to sell them to make any money and

it's like, you don't do that. There's all kinds of ways to get fucked up from that. In this book, something in the water, they find something else. And it's all I can think about is like, or remember in the movie where he finds the movie with Josh Brolin? Josh Brolin. He finds a bunch of money. Thank you. And there's like a tracker in the money. Of course there's a tracker. Yes. That's all I can think. Of course there's a tracker. Yeah. Of course there's someone watching from another island. Yeah. When it's like that much, it's not like you found a suitcase of pot. You found a crate of pot. Totally. Two. Yeah. Thank God the mom is smart. Right. Thank God for moms. Okay, here's our last one. I'm going to save this subject for you because you're going to like this one a lot.

Dear Georgia, Karen, Stephen and Pat, long time listener, first time writer-inner. Now that you guys are just reading anything cool, I thought I'd share this fun fact about Stephen King and a prison here in Maine. I'm a law student in my first year of school here in Maine and I've lived for, where I've lived for eight years. Stephen King grew up in Durham, the town next to my town, although he now has a residence up in Bangor. It said that the town influenced the settings for the body, aka stand by me and it. And yeah, the influence is pretty obvious to those who've been there. Being a third year law student is, oh, part of being a third year law student is that you can get sworn into practice law if you have a supervising attorney who will let you practice

under their bar number. I was lucky enough to land a job at our school's coveted legal aid clinic. And for the past few months, I've been making weekly trips to the local prison to assist prisoners with legal needs. The prison has operated since 1919 and houses around 700 prisoners. I have to wait for the guards to buzz me through about five gates on my journey through the Sally Port and the yard, which always makes me feel exposed and uneasy until I get to my destination, the prison library. The prison library is a protected quiet place that I can meet with my prisoner clients. It has its own real librarian, not a prisoner, walls of new magazines, and enough rows of books to resemble a shabbier, slightly more grim, independent hipster bookstore. And when you

walk in, there's an unassuming plaque posted about waist high that declares the library to be a gift of Stephen and Tabitha King. Cell phones are not allowed in prisons under penalty of death, or I'd send you a photo. Startled, I asked my supervising attorney about the plaque. A white haired old timer who knows everyone and everything. My supervisor told me that King donated the library because he wanted prisoners to practice literacy, not be bored, hello prison. And since the prison setting in Shawshank Redemption netted him so much, he wanted to give back to main prisons, the old main prison, which actually influenced King for Shawshank closed in 2002. I tried to find out more information on the internet about his motivations for the gift, but only found silence.

The Kings do operate a foundation that awards grants for libraries around the state. However, I could not find any mention the prison in their many proud press releases of grants to colleges, local libraries, medical centers, etc. It seems that the prison library is a little easter egg that King planted, known only to those who pass inside the prison walls. Thanks for the podcast. I wish I could share more stories with you and boy, oh boy, do I have some, but confidentiality, privilege and professional ethics prevent me from doing so. Keep up the great work. And I hope someday that you do a show up here in Maine, Jamie Lynn. Oh my God. That's amazing. Stephen and Tabitha King. Yes. And on the heels of that, we should say this, a bunch of people have been recommending

this podcast. I don't think we've talked about it. There's a new podcast called Ear Hustle, and it is produced and hosted by guys that are in San Quentin. And I didn't know this. Amazing. It's amazing. I listened to it a couple days ago, and it's just stories about guys that are in there and the hosts are really interesting and funny. And some, it's some, obviously some of it's really sad and really upsetting, but it's called Ear Hustle. You have to listen to it. It's like, it's a very, I really, I think it's very fascinating the way like prison reform and stuff like all these things are coming up culturally right now that are so important. And it's, it's such a great idea. I have a feeling Phoebe Judge has something to do with this podcast. I was going to say that

sounds not unlike a fee, a criminal style. I think it's, it might be from radio topia. I could be wrong, but I think it is. And it's just so good. And the stories are so fascinating. And some of them are heartbreaking and you, you should listen to it, Ear Hustle. It's a good way to make, to make the like prisoners who aren't there for, you know, violent offenses have kind of a, we see them as humans instead of just prisoners. That's exactly right. And also the people who are there, that should not be there at all. Right. Oh my God. Like we all, everybody likes to think, you know, they like to, it's easy to just generalize and then kind of put it out of your mind. And I think it's very humanizing and it's important and cool. Yeah. I love that. That's great. Yeah.

Um, and we love Stephen King. How badass is that? She is an angel baby. And on top of the fact that he wrote all of Kujo blackout drunk, which is the most amazing. That's one of Jesse Pops jokes. Yes, that's right. It's in his, uh, Jesse Pops, our friend who's a comedian has an album of comedy and it has a joke about Stephen King writing Kujo blackout drunk. Yep. And the only thing that Jesse's ever done when he's blackout drunk is wake up next to a tub of vegan pasta salad from the bodega that he must have bought when he was blackout drunk. Amazing. Yeah. So go, yeah. Email is my favorite murder at Gmail. Email is your, your weird blackout drunk stories. Yeah, those are great. Yeah. Or sad. Or sad. And stay sexy.

And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, you want a cookie? Hey Elvis, you want a cookie?