My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 91
Episode Date: October 8, 2018This week’s hometowns include a creepy ghost story and bank robbery coincidences. 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 Beguin. And Beguin. Welcome. This is my favorite murder. The mini-soad. Where we are mini.
We're so tiny. And teeny. We shrink down to tell you stories. Yeah, really cute and tiny. And you
send us your hometown murders, things that you found in your apartment, stuff your grandparents
have done. It could really be anything. We love stories. And that's what we're about to read you
right now. Yeah, or maybe go for it. Should I go first? Oh, please do. Because I did last time.
Okay, I'll go first. Then in that case, this is called being locked in a car trunk is not as much
fun as it seems. Oh, it just starts. I grew up in the late 80s and early 90s with numerous siblings.
So naturally, my family drove a station wagon. It was a classic blue with wood paneling. No
seatbelts, no car seats. We just roll around the back as my mom drove around clueless to how our
death could be imminent with just the right accident. Yeah. Anyhow, the station wagon was the only
car I was familiar with until my dad bought a second family car. So he didn't have to ride
his bike back and forth to work any longer. He bought a bright red 1980 Mercury Cougar.
And immediately we were so impressed by the trunk because station wagons didn't have one.
Yeah, that's right. We had never seen such a wondrous contraption. We were so curious what
it was like to ride in the trunk that we began asking to ride in it everywhere we went.
We were relentless. We wouldn't take no for an answer. We couldn't spend more than 10 minutes
together without fighting, but somehow decided to be shoved, being shoved together in a pitch black
trunk sounded like a great idea. Dad said no, but nevertheless, we persisted. Sure. Finally,
one day he agreed that two of us could ride to Walmart in the trunk while the other two could
ride in the trunk on the way back home. We get to Walmart and I somehow managed to lose my family
as they shoved and wandered around Walmart lost alone for hours. At least that's how it felt
to my five year old mind. I found them at last and they were loading up the groceries in the
parking lot. I love that they just paid and fucking left. They were like bye. He'll find us. She'll
find us. I don't know it. Clearly they were less concerned about me being missing than I was because
they went about their business, but I was frantic. I was crying so hard that my dad scooped me up,
hugged me tight and then gently placed me inside the trunk, cautioning me to watch your head.
As he closed me and my sister inside, the ride in the trunk was everything you could imagine
it to be. Hot, dark, bumpy. I remember my sister yelling at me to stop touching her as we flopped
around back there. Oh my god. Did they have milder sisters than sisters? I was grateful the trip was
only 10 minutes long when we were let out of the trunk. I remember thinking I'd never do that again
and went about my day playing until 30 minutes later when the police show up at our door to
question us. Someone saw my dad place a crying child in the trunk of the car and drive away. After
my dad convinced him we were all his children and he hadn't snatched any of us. They spoke to each of
us to make sure we weren't being abused. I can remember them asking my three-year-old little
brother if his daddy ever hurts him and he responded, quote, only when I'm bad. I was so
terrified they were going to take us away and put us up for adoption. My dad laughed hysterically
through the whole thing because he couldn't believe how ridiculous it all was. The police must not
have heard anything that worried them too much again because they left us with just a warning
to never ride in the trunk again and we didn't. Stay sexy and don't ride in a trunk just because
it looks fun, Leanne. Oh my god. I love the idea that the dad's like, this is ridiculous. It's like,
no, no, no, you picked up a crying child and put them into the trunk of the car.
You truly could be arrested for child endangerment for this, like bottom of the fucking eight
basics. Nothing is explainable. Imagine these days that happening. That guy would get arrested
immediately. Yes, oh my god. But in the 80s and 90s, it's like, that's, don't do that again.
Please don't do that anymore because you really scared us. There's a woman who had a heart attack.
Yeah. In that parking lot watching you load a child. Oh my god. That would be bone chilling.
Okay. The subject line of this one is my super haunted summer camp. Okay.
Because the last time you were saying you wanted a haunted one. That's right. Go stories, please.
And this is left over from the Medford hometown, so we asked for. Cool. Hi, Karen,
Georgia, Steven, Elvis, Mimi, Dotty, Frank, and George. Wow. First off, I love your podcast.
Can't wait to see you in Medford in October. How was it? My summer camp is a sleepaway camp
in Western Massachusetts in the absolute middle of nowhere. We're on a mountain in the woods
with the nearest town having 140 people in it. There is no cell service. And so it adds an extra
creepy factor when I listened to your podcast in the dark in the woods. There are a bunch of ghosts
on camp. But usually they show up in the off season when the kids aren't on camp. They keep
saying on camp. Oh, that's like when people from the East Coast say get online. Yeah. When they're
saying get in line. Yeah, that's right. Um, dummies. No. What about the word at? Okay. There is the
kitchen ghost in the director's house in the winter. The people who have lived there going back 10
years have said opens the door walks in and puts its groceries away at the same time every day.
But when you walk in, there's no one there. There's also the ghost in the middle girl's unit
that shakes the bunk beds every few years and will bang on the walls scaring the total shit
out of the campers. Yeah. Um, we also have, um, the ghost called horrible Hannah and she burns
down a building on camp every seven years. What? Yeah. But the ghost that prompted me to write you
was one from this summer in the middle boys unit in the middle of the night when it was pouring
two counselors, Sam and Jack for fake names, um, were woken up by what they thought was one of their
very homes at campers crying. They decided to let them cry it out a bit and see if he would fall
back to sleep until they heard him say, help. They locked me out. I can't get back in. So obviously
they both hopped out of bed and one of them went to open the door. Sam let him in and felt
him brush by him and get into bed and both Jack and Sam heard him say, thank you. Sam turned
on the cabin light to help the camper get back into bed and there was no camper there. No, no,
no, no, no, no, no. There were also no wet footsteps on the ground, despite the fact that
it had been pouring for hours and all the other campers, including the homesick camper,
were fast asleep in their beds. Uh, Jack told everyone on camp the next day and totally said
he wouldn't have believed it if it wasn't for him and Sam, both having experienced it, it didn't
happen again, but everyone on camp can't stop talking about it. Thank you so much for reading
this. Sorry, it's so long and thank you so much for being so open about mental health. I've been
getting more open over the years about my mental health struggles, but listening to you two talk
about yours has helped me continue to talk about it and helps to end the stigma. Jillian in
in parentheses, it's just said like Jillian, but spelled with a G. Oh my God, that's scary.
When children, when it's ghost children who are crying, goodbye. Goodbye. What happened? Why is
that energy trapped in that cabin? Oh, why is it crying? Why is it crying? And you just let it in.
Now it's going to stick with you forever. That's right until you meet a priest.
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Amazon Music or Wondery app. All right, this is called Spooky Museum Artifact, and it is called
action. If you work in a museum, spend us send us the weird shit that is in your museum. That's
right. Here we go. We love it. Hello, spooky ladies and adorable animal companions. Okay.
I'm a curator at a small history museum in central Florida. I recently listened to your
mini episode where you asked for interesting museum artifacts. So I thought it's your mind.
My museum is dedicated to the history of the town of Lake Wales, which is your typical Florida
small town based on citrus and cattle. Nice. And insanity. Any one of my favorite artifacts I found
was in a half collapsed derelict building. Think cobwebs, broken windows, plywood on doors, and
graffiti on the walls. Cool. That the city owns and stores random stuff, some of which belongs to
the museum. About four months ago, I was looking through with a volunteer and found a long wicker
box roughly three feet wide by six foot long, six feet long. I couldn't figure out what it was.
We loaded up on a truck and brought it to the museum where I could clean it. Once I cleaned it,
I found a small metal plaque that said it was made by a company called Frigid Fluid in Chicago.
I looked them up and it turns out they're a funeral supply company. Okay. Frigid Fluid. Yeah.
That's a creepy name. Yep. It turns out my giant wicker box is a wicker coffin. Wicker.
This one was likely produced from 1905 to 1925. They would be used by the police to pick up bodies
at crime scene or death scenes, crime or death, whatever, since they were lightweight. Also,
since medical science at this time still had some trouble telling when someone was dead,
you could store a body in it while you figure out if they're dead or not. Oh, no. The wicker
allows air in for the possible corpse to breathe, but still keeps out most insects or animals who
might like to chew on a tasty corpse. Once at the funeral home, the body would be moved into
a proper burial coffin. The local funeral home was cleaning out a closet about 30 years ago,
found it and thought the museum may like it. A big part of why I went to museum,
a big part of why I went to history and museums is that I love macabre history stories.
So I was thrilled to find this. Unfortunately, my boss finds it a bit unsettling. So now it's in
storage, so I can convince her to let me put it out on display. Thank you for reading my story.
And remember, museums are full of neat spooky artifacts. Sometimes we just have to keep them
behind closed doors. Stay sexy and don't get murdered. Bartholomew. Wow. Yeah. Wicker coffin.
Wicker coffin. Oh, there's a photo. That's Stephen. He's hitting us. What? We'll put it up on the
Instagram. Oh, no. It's so bad. It looks, it's really creepy. Oh, that's the creepy. It looks
like what I would normally carry as a purse, but in the giant coffin size, like a vintage purse.
You know what it reminds me of is we had this really old family photo album
where it was like the black paper on the outside and all the pictures of black and white. Yeah,
I have a bunch of this. And they're in there. There was a picture of a baby that had died.
No, you're one of those families. Well, no, no, no, they all used to do that. And like
back then, 20s, 20s, 30s, they would, if a child died, they would take their picture. And I think
that was in the background because the second I just, because the wicker is black. It's not like
it looks like it was painted black. It's like kind of now grayish. Yeah. Don't think if you're
thinking wicker coffin, it's not a picnic basket. It is creepy, scary, summertime Dracula.
Are you ready for this one? Sure. The subject line is my mom and two bank robberies. Cool.
Hi, everyone. I want to preface this by saying that my mom is totally fine.
But this definitely, everyone preface their, and everyone preface their
letters. Yeah, that's how everyone is. This definitely falls under the umbrella of creepy
coincidence. This all happened within the last year. My mom used to work at a church rectory.
There are two banks right around it, one on the same side of the street and one across.
One day before work, my mom went into the bank across the street to do, you know, bank stuff.
There was only one teller open and someone behind her in line. She did her banking and left for work.
You'd say online or in line? They said in line. Thank God. Norm is, the norm is restored.
About 15 minutes later, the rectory doorbell rang and it was a police officer asking her,
asking her if the church or rectory had any security cameras that they might
show any of the sidewalk of the bank or across the street because it was just robbed. She said,
no, but then asked, what do you mean it was just robbed? I was just in there.
The officer showed her the bank security footage. You see my mom. No. And then the man behind her
approaches the teller and slips and a teller, the teller note saying that he's robbing the bank
and he has a gun. My mom was totally floored, but she wasn't really in the bank. So it's fine.
It was just a wow, what the fuck story to tell. That's so creepy. Fast forward a few months.
My mom is in the other bank. No, doing some banking for my grandmother. And she's at one teller
filling out some forms when she notices that the guy who had been behind her in line who had gone
to another teller and is leaving kind of quickly, but seems to be dropping money all over the floor.
What? She's about to be like, hey, Messer, you're dropping all of your money,
but he's moving too fast and she's distracted by the slip she's filling out. So the guy power
walks to the door, holds the door open for someone coming in and then puts something in the handles
so that they can't get out and chase after them. The teller, the man had gone to looks up and says,
we just got robbed. He slid, he had slid the teller a note saying that he had a gun and wanted money,
but the teller had given him one of those fake hollow blocks that are just supposed to look
like money. There's a die pack concealed inside and only a couple of real $20 bills on the top
of the box. He must have noticed, which is why he threw it all down on the ground. When the police
came and we're questioning everyone in the bank, my mom told the detective taking her statement
about the other bank robbery she'd nearly been in in the middle of and the detective said,
I think you might want to try online banking. They don't think it was the same guy, but now
my mom says that if someone gets in line behind her at the bank again, she's going to turn around
and take their picture. Happy fall murder, you know, stay sexy and maybe stick to online baking,
if you can. Best. Basha. Amazing. That's so good. What are the chances? I mean,
so even being one is like fucking one in a million, you know, and I love that she just kind
of isn't paying attention. Yeah. She's like, excuse me, so you're dropping all this money?
I've got other shit to deal with. Don't we all? Um, Karen, Georgia, Steven and lovely pets. I got
my husband at 23 and me for Christmas because I was pregnant with our second child and want to see
what the European nationality was. He was always told he was French and scant and Scandinavian.
Fun gift. We moved after Christmas, blah, blah, blah. They lost it. Then he found it again.
Let's say, okay, cut to early May, 2017. He told me he was fascinated to learn that he was mostly
Irish and he was so excited to see the results. I was sleep deprived, newborn and went to bed.
He woke me up around 10 p.m. with a strange look on his face telling me that he has two half sisters
my initial thought was did his dad cheat on his mom or did his whole year there,
Christian mom cheat on his dad? He ended up exchanging phone numbers with one of his half
sisters. And as we were talking about this, she called him. I told him to wake me up again when
he knew more. Around one a.m. he woke me up and told me that the man he knew as his dad was not
his dad. Holy shit. His half sister told him that he was conceived via sperm donor at a hospital
in the early 80s and that he was one of at least nine half siblings that they knew of.
What in the actual fuck? The next couple of days, he was wondering how he would broach the subject
with his mom and dad. He finally just said that he had gotten his DNA testing. His mom called
a family meeting and admitted that his dad couldn't father kids. My husband has actually had a
strained relationship with his family, especially his sister, actually half sister, different donor
dads. Through this revelation, he found out that he went to college with his half sister,
good thing they never hooked up. And he found a half brother that he just absolutely adores.
His half brother had lymphoma and of all the donor siblings, my husband is the only perfect
match for him if he should ever need a stem cell transplant. Once the brother with cancer found out
that my husband was a stem cell match, he and his wife decided to do IVF after trying for 10
years to have a baby. They had their own baby girl in April 2018 and he is now in remission.
Me and my girls met their new aunt, uncle and baby cousin, and I felt like I had known them for years
and was told the feeling was mutual. These are my people. My husband's parents hate me for getting
my husband this test and exposing their family secret, but that's their problem to deal with.
Not mine. Stay sexy and don't regret buying a DNA test that exposes family secrets,
thus making your in-laws hate you more than they already did, Anna.
Yeah. Whoa. A lot of issues in that family. Lots of issues. I mean, that's so intense.
I think that's a thing that like, well, you know, it's funny is that you've seen that
Australian show Sisters and we talked about it. I love that show. Everyone watches it. It's on
Netflix. It's really good, but it's similar. Yeah. Someone finding out they have a bunch of
brothers and sisters that they didn't know they had. And then being like, oh my god,
thank god we didn't hook up. Oh, it's so crazy. Wash the Australian or is it? It's Australian.
Australian show Sisters on Netflix. It's fucking charming as shit. Oh my god. That's crazy.
Send us your fucking stories. Everyone, my favorite murderer, Gmail. Yeah. The dance floor is open.
You can pretty much do what you want. Thanks for sending everything in. We love getting these.
This is like the best part of the week for us. And stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye.
Goodbye. Elvis, you want a cookie?