Prime Crime: Solved Murders - “Halloween Panic” Timothy O'Bryan

Episode Date: October 27, 2021

Every Halloween, an urban legend makes the rounds about a child dying after eating poisoned candy. The reality is that it rarely happens. But in 1974, 8-year old Timothy O'Bryan died after eating a tainted Pixie stick. It's where he got it that makes this story so scary. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Due to the graphic nature of this murder case, listener discretion is advised. This episode includes dramatizations and discussions of child death, murder, and execution. We advise extreme caution for children under 13. The nurses at Southmore Hospital in Deer Park, Texas, were prepared for a hectic shift on October 31, 1974. It was Halloween night, after all. The one time a year when the veil between worlds became unnervingly thin and ghosted. and goblins were free to roam. More practically, it was the one time a year

when masses of children walked in the dark by themselves. Flammable clothing covered their bodies and ill-fitting masks blocked their vision. Burns, bruises, and traffic accidents were inevitable. When the staffers saw an ambulance barreling into the parking lot, they expected more of the same. Then the back doors swung open. There was a young boy inside.

The EMTs identified him as eight-year-old Timothy O'Brien. He was on a gurney, wearing a pajama shirt covered in vomit and red-gray foamy saliva. It was clear that he wasn't going to make it. The boy's father said he'd abruptly started convulsing after eating a single piece of candy. As EMTs wheeled the cold body into the morgue, an accurate smell of bitter almonds followed them. It was cyanide. Someone had made every parent's worst nightmare come true. They'd slipped poison into Timothy's Halloween candy.

And if it got into his bag, dozens of other children could have cyanide sitting next to the chocolate and caramel in their trick-or-treating bags. An all-too-real boogeyman had come to haunt the streets of Deer Park. Welcome to Solved Murder's True Crime Mysteries. a Spotify original from Parcast. I'm your host, Carter Roy. And I'm your host Wendy McKenzie. Every Wednesday we step into the world of true crimes most fascinating murder cases and tell the tale of how real-life detectives close the case. You can find episodes of Solve Murders and all other

Spotify originals from Parcast for free exclusively on Spotify. This week will cover the whole story of Timothy O'Brien, who died after eating poisoned Candy in 1974. His death fueled an urban legend that resurfaces every Halloween. But in truth, Timothy O'Brien remains one of the only children who's ever been killed or injured by tampered candy. We have all that and more. Coming up, stay with us.

Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars. Catch the Jonas Brothers return to the Yamava Theater. stage on April 30th, the powerful vocals of Demi Lovato on May 17th, and the signature Southern Country Rock of Eric Church on July 19th. Tickets on sale now at Yamava Theater.com, only at Yamava Resort and Casino, celebrating its 40th anniversary. You in? Must be 21 to enter. It seemed like things were looking up for the O'Brien family in 1974. After years of being nearly broke, 30-year-old Ronald Clark O'Brien had landed a solid job and moved his

wife and two kids, into a new townhouse in the Houston suburb of Deer Park, Texas. The new gig at an optometrist office didn't pay much, but it could keep the small family afloat. Ronald finally had some room in his budget to chip away at all the loans he'd taken out during years of on-again, off-again employment. But for eight-year-old Timothy O'Brien and his five-year-old sister, Dad's new job meant something far more important. He was getting close to Halloween, and for the first time in years, they could afford proper costumes. Ronald had never been very excited about holidays, but something was different this year. The kids usually had to beg their parents to take them trick-or-treating at the last minute,

but this year, their father offered to chaperone their adventures weeks in advance. He said he'd even drive them to the nearby town of Pasadena, Texas, to meet up with another family, who will refer to as the Gates family. The clouds gathered as Timothy and his younger sister stepped off the school bus on the afternoon of October 31st, 1974. A few hours later, as the sun set, Timothy pulled on his new Planet of the Apes costume and rushed into the car. Rain drops fell as the kids carried their plastic masks into the house. The father of the Gates family, who will call Joe Gates, noticed that Ronald was still wearing his white lab coat

from the office. He didn't seem to want to take it off, even when the families sat down to dinner. It's still crazy to me that the kids can't just go out there on their own. It's Halloween. Come on. We were out there by ourselves all the time at their age. Yeah, I don't know. Times have changed since then. You never know who's out there, you know? I suppose. I'd rather give up a couple of hours of my Thursday than let some freak give my kid God knows what. I'll drink to that. After dinner, Ronald, Jim, and the kids stepped outside to start trick-or-treating. This Halloween night was cold and misty, and soon enough the rain soaked through the flimsy costumes.

But as the candy flowed into their bags, the kids forgot about any discomfort. Eight-year-old Timothy practically skipped from house to house in his yellow ape costume. After a few minutes of giddy candy collection, the group came across a house with its lights out. When no one came to answer the door, the kids quickly turned around, ready to dash to the next location. Ronald told them to go ahead without him. He'd wait and see if anyone was home. About a minute after the kids ran ahead, Ronald jogged up behind them, still in his optician's coat. And it looked like he'd hit the mother load at the darkened house. He carried five huge pixie sticks.

Patience is a virtue, kiddos. Wow, Ron, those things are the size of my arm. You must have some rich neighbors. Here, kids, let's stick these in your bags. On second thought, you guys shouldn't be eating these quite yet. I'll give them to you at the house. It didn't take long for the rain to drive eight-year-old Timothy and his friends back inside. With bags half full of candy, they scampered to the gates' house.

The kids wiped their feet and peeled off their soggy costumes, then got to work counting up their hall. Ronald O'Brien graciously added one more piece of candy to each of their growing piles, a 22-inch pixie stick. 30-year-old Ronald had five sugar-filled plastic tubes. Because there were only four children there, he gave one lucky trick-or-treater the final pixie sticks. With all their business done, the O'Brien. and family drove back home, away from the pristine lawns of Pasadena and toward Deer Park. Ronald's wife was out with friends, so he needed to put the kids to bed by himself. Lucky for him, 8-year-old Timothy and his 5-year-old sister were exhausted from running up and down

the rainy streets. They got into their pajamas easily, but Timothy had one request before brushing his teeth. The boy explained he just wanted one more piece before bed. Ronald couldn't help but grin. Ah, you know I can't say no to that face, but just one, okay? 30-year-old Ronald urged his son to eat the pixie sticks. The boy sat on his bed eagerly and opened his pixie sticks. The tangy powder inside was hardened near the top, so Ronald rolled it between his hands to break up any clumps.

Timothy opened his mouth wide and poured the candy in. But as soon as the pixie-stick sugar hit Timothy's tongue, his face soured. It tasted bitter. Ronald got up from the bed to get some Kool-Aid for his son, but as soon as he returned from the kitchen, Timothy was in bad shape. Ronald passed his son a glass of Kool-Aid, but after Timothy took a sip, he rushed to the bathroom, where he started vomiting almost immediately.

Soon the eight-year-old was convulsing on the floor, with foam bubbling out of his bedroom. mouth. Ronald called an ambulance, but it was too late. Though the EMTs managed to get Timothy onto a stretcher, he only survived for another hour. He was pronounced dead at the hospital around 10.30 p.m. on Halloween night, 1974. An autopsy quickly proved that it was cyanide poisoning. And based on the story provided by Timothy's family, the boy's sudden reaction to the pixie sticks and complaints about its bitter taste made it safe to guess the poison source. Timothy's father was unhelpful when doctors asked about the events of the night.

It took several minutes of roundabout questioning for Ronald to recall where he got the pixie sticks. He eventually remembered a shadowy figure who gave him the candies at the darkened house in Pasadena and that there were five pixie sticks in total. The threat of additional poisoned candies put the police on high alert. They immediately fanned out to search the Houston suburbs for the missing pixie sticks. Good evening, ma'am. We're sorry to inform you that there have been reports of tainted candy in your area. Do you mind if we look through your children's bags?

Oh, that's terrible. My son's candy is upstairs. I'll wake him up. Wake up, sweetie. We're going to look through your candy, okay? He doesn't usually sleep with candy in his bed, but I figured it's once a year. Is that a pixie sticks? Oh, they're his favorite.

I guess he couldn't open the staples. before falling asleep. Stables? Let me see. These things are usually heat-sealed, ma'am. I'd count your blessings. The police department's frantic search found all four of the pixie sticks. One was with Timothy's five-year-old sister,

two were at the Gates' house, and the final one was clutched in the hands of a sleepy trick-or-treater. Luckily, none of the children had a chance to sample them. Detective has examined the captured pixie sticks. By dawn on November 1, 1974, they knew that all five were tainted. The top two inches of candy in each tube had been replaced with potassium cyanide. There was enough poison in each of the pixie sticks to kill two to three adults.

As the Houston suburbs woke up to the news of eight-year-old Timothy O'Brien's death, parents panicked. The Pasadena police offered to inspect any suspicious can. handy, and filled entire rooms with the donations. When Timothy O'Brien was buried on November 2, 1974, many people showed up to pay their respects. Ronald O'Brien somberly greeted the guests with his wife and youngest daughter standing by his side. He remained straight-faced throughout the ceremony, but gave a stirring eulogy. Though he was taken from us far too soon, I personally have my peace knowing that

Tim is in heaven. And now, if you don't mind, I've prepared a song for him. Washed in his blood. It was strange to hear such a high voice come out of the heavyset, 30-year-old. But Ronald O'Brien's surprise take on the classic hymn, Blessed Assurance, brought the whole chapel to tears. They heard the depth of this man's grief in his wavering falsetto and couldn't help but mourn along with him. The congregation breathed a sigh of relief as Timothy was finally lowered into the ground. Though they still didn't know who was responsible,

it was comforting to remember their community was mostly made up of good, loving people. They didn't yet realize that the killer was standing among them. Up next, investigators come to a shocking conclusion. Hello, I'm Hannah McGuire. And I'm Sarutie Bala, and we're the hosts of the new Spotify original from Parcast, Sinister Societies. You may know us from the very creepy and excellent podcast red-handed,

but now we've teamed up with Parkast for an unprecedented look at history's most nefarious groups. Some preach extreme religious practices, others warn of impending doom, and then there are those whose endgame is far more diabolical. Every Tuesday on Sinister Societies, we take a peek behind the curtain and discover the most ominous organisations the world may or may not have known. Learn how entrepreneurial sects made fortunes off their brand, how charismatic cult leaders caught the eye of celebrities, and why strange orders of the extraterrestrial or collegiate kind

attract the most unlikely of followers. Some groups convene in the shadows. Others operate in plain sight. All are absolutely sinister. Follow sinister societies free and only on Spotify. And now, Back to our story. The citizens of Deer Park and Pasadena, Texas, spent the Halloween weekend of 1974 in a days,

mourning the death of Timothy O'Brien and scratching their heads at who could have killed the eight-year-old. Detective has wasted no time creating a list of possible suspects. After all, a killer was hiding in their community, and if that person was willing to endanger five children on a whim, their next move could be far worse. They knew the candy came from Timothy's trick-or-treating route, which narrowed things down. Timothy's father, Ronald O'Brien, mentioned receiving the poisoned pixie sticks from a house somewhere in Joe Gates' neighborhood. Homicide detectives seemed to leave Ronald alone for the first few days of the investigation.

They turned to Joe Gates, who told them the route he took with Timothy on Halloween night. The route was simple, covering only two blocks. Joe Gates had a rough recollection of where Ronald picked up the pixie sticks, but he wasn't sure. About three days after Halloween, the detectives invited Ronald on a ride-alone to get his input. Do you have any rough memories of which house the pixie sticks came from? The color? Any defining feature? I remember the lights were all off on the porch. It was a brown house, I think.

Some small plants out front maybe, and ivy on the walls. Ivy. Hmm. Is it maybe that one? Forty-12 Donorail? Um, I think so. I just remember seeing a hairy arm sticking out and giving them to me. I never saw his face. God, I should have just turned around right then. Looks like someone's coming out of the house. Does that look like him? I don't even want to look. Yes, that's him. I'm almost positive. That's him.

The police weren't sure they could trust Ronald O'Brien's accusation. His version of events had changed a few times, and his ability to remember the specifics of that Halloween night seemed to come and go at random. His memories might have been scrambled by grief and trauma, but some things just weren't adding up. For one, no other children reported receiving pixie sticks from the area. If the man in the dark house was the culprit, his choice to give all five poison pixie sticks to one man didn't make much sense. But the police were desperate for leads and decided to visit the owner of 4-112 Donorail Street. So where were you on the night of October 31st? Halloween?

Oh, I was working that night at the airport. Convenient. How long were you at work? Well, let's see. Shift started around two in the afternoon, got off around 10.30. I'd say I got home just before 11. You can ask my coworkers. We may. Was there anybody else at the house while you were gone? Sure. My wife and daughters were home. My wife didn't buy enough candy. When they ran out,

they just pulled the shades down and kept to themselves the rest of the night. Interesting. And do you know what kind of candy your wife was handing out? Was it pixie sticks? She had a mix of small candies. No pixie sticks. I'm sure of that. The man had an airtight alibi. Dozens of people saw her. him working at the airport at the same time the pixie sticks turned up in Ronald's hands. After a few days, it was clear that the poisoned candy hadn't come from any of the houses Timothy visited on Halloween night. Joe Gates had no reason to hurt the boy and had been compliant and consistent throughout the investigation. That left Timothy's father as the main

suspect. But Timothy's father had no motive to kill his son either. Or at least that's what the investigators thought. On November 4, 1974, the officers discovered their first major break in the case. Assistant District Attorney Mike Hinton was teaching a class at the Police Academy. He just finished giving the class an overview of homicide laws when another police officer burst into his classroom. He said it was about the O'Brien case. Hinton dropped his lecture materials and darted into the hall.

away. An insurance officer just sent this in. Turns out Ron O'Brien took out a big policy on his son right before he died. Read it. To the best of my knowledge, Ron O'Brien called me at the office and stated that he thought he needed more insurance on his children. $20,000 on each kid, Christ. Paid in cash, make sure not to tell his wife. Go back in and dismiss my class for me. On it, sir. And get the wife in here. The affidavit revealed that 30-year-old Ronald Clark O'Brien took out $10,000 life insurance policies on each of his children in January of 1974. Then he returned to increase their coverage in early October, about 30 days before Halloween.

Ronald insisted on additional $20,000 policies for both Timothy and his sister, which meant he'd stand to collect more than $60,000. if both children died. Alarm bells went off in Hinton's head. He'd spoken to Ronald multiple times over the last four days. The soft-spoken father seemed scattered and forgetful, and neighbors described him as sweet and devoted. But Mike Hinton had been on the force long enough to know

not to trust outer appearances. This life insurance tip was the only solid lead in the case, so he had to see it through. Besides, he hadn't spoken to, to Tateauld. Timothy's mother yet. Around 5 p.m. on November 4th, 1974, Ronald O'Brien and his wife entered the Pasadena police station. We'll call his wife Clara O'Brien for privacy. The officers immediately separated the couple. 29-year-old Clara sat quietly in the cold interrogation room. She was oddly calm, maybe even relieved to talk to the police. I can answer any questions you have.

I've been wanting to talk to someone since Timothy's death, so I'm a little desperate. Well, hopefully we can find some answers here. First off, Mrs. O'Brien, how much life insurance did you and your husband have on the kids? Oh, Ron insured each of us for $10,000 in January. It might be lower now because I wasn't happy about it. I mean, money was tight enough as it was. Can you say more about that? Your financial situation at the time. We were broke then and we're broke now. Pretty simple. Mrs. O'Brien, I don't quite know how to say this, but your husband didn't reduce the life insurance policies. In fact, he took out an additional $20,000 on each of your children about a month ago.

Paid for it in cash, he didn't want you to know. No. I'm sorry, Mrs. O'Brien. I was so afraid of this. Give me a moment. Clara O'Brien sat stunned for a few minutes. After taking a deep breath, she told the officers everything she knew that could help convict her husband. The 29-year-old revealed that her family was in deeper financial trouble than anyone initially thought. In the last five years, her husband had been unable to keep a job for more than a few months.

He cycled through 21 positions before landing at his current job as an optician. Ronald's precarious employment forced the family to move five times. times in the past several years. He owed more than $100,000 to various creditors, had defaulted on multiple loans, and was eight months behind on car payments. And after only a few months at Texas state opticians, Ronald was dangerously close to being fired. His employer suspected he was stealing from the office. Clara O'Brien described her husband as a chronic liar, who was obsessed with get-rich quick schemes. She remembered two previous occasions

when a fire broke out in the O'Brien home, and the family received a windfall of cash from their insurance company, just in time to pay the monthly bills. Looking back, Clara was certain her husband set the fires to collect the insurance money. The detectives were horrified to realize that Ronald may have applied that same logic

to the lives of his own children. Then Clara shared her fears that Ronald O'Brien was mentally unstable. I tried to get him help. One night I woke up next to him holding a bayonet, just playing with it in the scabbard, in and out, and in and out. It scared the daylights out of me. I tried to get him into treatment, but none of the psychiatrists seemed like a good fit, like good Christians.

So I just turned to prayer. It's okay, Mrs. O'Brien. There's no way you could have known. I don't know, officer. Deep down in my heart, I think I knew he could do something like this. He's dangerous, officer. He shouldn't be allowed to walk out of this place, for the sake of other children and for Timothy's sake.

As Clara O'Brien finished her interview, her husband, Ronald, was still deep in an interrogation. Coming up, we'll find out what he had to say. And now, back to the story. Clara O'Brien left the police station suspecting that her husband, Ronald O'Brien, murdered her son. But as she raced home in the Texas Twilight, her husband's interrogation was just getting started. He refused to admit to anything, but the inconsistencies in his story just kept piling up. I took out the $10,000 policy in January. That's it.

I'm giving you a chance to tell the truth here. So, once again, how much insurance did you have on time? Timothy prior to his death. Now that I think about it, I considered taking out another policy in late September or so. I guess I must have. I don't remember. When you lose a child... Why'd you call the bank at 9 a.m. on November 1st?

To collect the policy. The original one. $10,000. And you weren't at all distracted by the fact your son died the night before? I needed the money, officer. My family... We're not doing well financial. I see, but you had an extra $108 for these insurance payments every month.

In cash? Because I... I'm just trying to do right by my family. He stopped just short of confessing, but the police still had more than enough evidence to arrest him. Once Ronald admitted to the additional life insurance policies, the final puzzle piece fell into place. Detectives had been skeptical of Ronald for several days,

but they couldn't put together a motive. Now they knew Ronald intended to kill both of his children to collect on their life insurance. Ronald O'Brien was charged with murder the next day on November 5, 1974, and sent to jail. With Ronald out of the house, the police carefully searched the premises. They found evidence all over. There was a pocket knife with powdered sugar stuck to the blade and scissors, which were also marked with pixie-sticks residue. In Ronald's office, they found a scrap of paper printed out from an adding machine.

One line of numbers listed the loans and car payments that Ronald owed. Another line added up the life insurance payments that Ronald stood to collect if his children died. The two lines matched up almost perfectly. As word spread of Ronald O'Brien's arrest, the phones at the police station rang off the hook. It felt like everyone had a story about the man's erratic behavior in the months leading up to the murder. After the arrest was publicized, 12 people came forward to say that Ronald asked them questions about poisons in the months leading up to October of 1974. A manager at Texas State Opticians remembered Ronald asking him to buy cyanide for the office in August.

Ronald claimed he needed it to clean a particular type of glasses frame, but the manager denied his request. Ronald had worked in the labs at a local chemical company before starting at the optician's office. He called one of the chemists from the lab in early September with a long list of questions about cyanide. Primarily, he wanted to know where he could buy it and what constituted a lethal dose.

Around this time, Ronald also spoke, with several coworkers at Texas State Opticians about the same poison and how to use it. Multiple people, including Joe Gates, remembered Ronald mentioning that his financial health would recover by the end of the fall. He even told one colleague that he planned on quitting his job soon. Investigators also called all the chemical suppliers in the Houston area to figure out where Ronald got the cyanide. None of the suppliers had records of a purchase, but one salesman did recall a frazzled man coming into his shop in October, dead set on buying potassium cyanide.

When the man learned that their smallest package was five pounds, he stormed out. Looking back, the salesman was certain that the odd customer was Ronald O'Brien. But even as the pile of evidence against Ronald grew to an undeniable size, he didn't admit to the crime. When his trial started in late May of 1975, Ronald pleaded not guilty to one count of capital murder and four counts of attempted murder. But as a small parade of witnesses for the prosecution came to the stand,

it became harder and harder to believe him. In addition to the many people who remembered Ronald pestering them about cyanide, Ronald's brother testified that he was struggling financially, and had a hard time keeping a job. Joe Gates' son, who accompanied Timothy and Ronald on Halloween night, came to the stand as well. He said he didn't see anyone hand the pixie sticks to Ronald. In fact, he didn't see the door of the darkened house open at all.

After more than a dozen witnesses and experts spoke to the jury, Assistant District Attorney Mike Hinton took the stand. He offered the prosecution's explanation for why and how Timothy O'Brien was murdered. The motive turned out to be painfully simple. Based on what we know about the case, it's likely that the sequence of events was as follows. In January of 1974,

Ronald was in deep financial trouble and in need of quick cash. So he amassed more than $60,000 in life insurance for his two children and researched ways to kill them. Poisoning was the best option, and he had a foolproof plan to not get caught. Like every parent, Ronald had heard chilling stories about razor blades, drugs, and other foreign substances found inside Halloween candy. For the most part, these stories were based on legends,

although there was one death in 1970 of a five-year-old boy who accidentally ingested heroin on Halloween night. But it was not found in his trick-or-treating candy. Regardless, it's a little bit of... possible that Ronald wanted to take advantage of these urban legends by spiking multiple candies and distributing them randomly, pretending they came from another house. Then, when five children dropped dead from poison to candy, the public would think it was the work of a random sadist. No one would stoop low enough to suspect the children's father.

By October 31st, 1974, the plan was ready. The insurance policies were set up, and Ronald had a small amount of cyanide hidden in his house. After sending the kids off to school, he used a pocket knife to cut open the five pixie sticks. Then he poured some of the candy out and replaced it with poison. He stapled the tubes shut and reaffixed the pixie sticks' cardboard labels. When night fell and it was time to take the kids trick-or-treating, Ronald must have hidden the long tubes of candy in his white optician's coat. He refused to take the coat off all evening. The rainy weather on Halloween night meant he had to act fast. When no one came to the door at a dark and creepy-looking house, he let the rest of the group run ahead and snuck the pixie

sticks out of his coat sleeve. As he caught up with the group, Ronald concocted the story of a disembodied hairy arm thrusting the candies out at him. Surely that had sounds scary enough to throw investigators off. He distributed the treats to the children in attendance and gave the remaining one to a trick-or-treater. Then, when Timothy begged for a piece of candy, Ronald saw his chance to strike. Ronald assumed the role of a good father as he rushed Timothy to the hospital and maintained the act for several days, even got a little bit cocky, talking to the press multiple times about how much he missed his son.

but it looked like his ruse had come to an end. Ronald sat silent as Mike Hinton summarized the events of October 31st. Despite the strength of the prosecution's case, he seemed confident in his innocence, or maybe just in his ability to appear that way. Earlier in the trial, he even offered the assistant district attorney a tootsie role in what looked like a winking reference to the murder. Needless to say, the gesture,

disgusted Hinton. He didn't accept the candy and went on to end the trial with a stirring final statement. The inescapable conclusion is that this man killed his own flesh and blood for money. We owe it to future innocent victims to carve this cancer from society. The jury agreed with Hinton and took only 46 minutes of deliberation to declare Ronald O'Brien guilty. The next day, they decided on his punishment. A capital murder conviction meant the death penalty. Ronald was sent to Huntsville Prison to wait out the rest of his days. His wife divorced him after the trial and started a new life with their young daughter.

No one waved goodbye as a prison bus carted the 30-year-old away. He spent nearly 10 years on death row, where other inmates dubbed him the Candyman. Though he accepted the nickname, Ronald never admitted to killing his. son. He claimed innocence until the day he died. Ronald O'Brien was executed by lethal injection at the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville on March 31st, 1984. Huntsville's prison chaplain later referred to Ronald as the most despised person ever escorted to death row. His fellow inmates even tried to organize a demonstration on the day of his execution to show how much they hated him. The inmate's petition was denied, but many Texans had the same idea.

Outside the prison, a few dozen college students stood wearing Halloween masks. They hoisted a giant replica pixie sticks above their heads. As the needle pulled out of Ronald's arm and the radio officially declared his death, the students let out a gleeful cry. Ronald O'Brien, who the media called the man who tried to kill Hollislellan, Halloween was finally dead. But his legacy haunts the holiday to this day. Every year, parents check their children's Halloween candy for drugs, poison, or sharp objects. This caution is well-intentioned, but usually baseless.

A sociologist at the University of Delaware named Joel Best spent 20 years studying the idea of poisoned Halloween candy. He claimed he didn't find a single case of tainted candy being handed out to random trick-or-treaters, and so the phenomenon should be thought of as an urban legend. Perhaps Timothy O'Brien's tragic death on Halloween night can be seen as an ironic reminder. As we play with danger and death at the spookiest time of year, ghoulish spirits and eerie houses are not what we should be afraid of. The scariest monsters have been hiding in our homes all along. Thanks again for tuning into solved murders.

We'll be back next Wednesday with a new episode. For more information on the death of Timothy O'Brien, amongst the many sources we used, we found Mike Vance and John Nova Lomax's book, Murder and Mayhem in Houston, Historic Bayou City Crime, extremely helpful to our research. You can find all episodes of Solved Murders

and all other Spotify originals from Parcast for free on Spotify. We'll see you next time. If we live till next time. Solve Murders True Crime Mysteries is a Spotify original from Parcast. It is executive produced by Max Cutler. Sound design by Michael Langsner, with production assistance by Ron Shapiro,

Trent Williamson, Carly Madden, and Joshua Kern. This episode of Solve Murders was written by Kylie Harrington with writing assistance by Giles Hofseth, fact-checking by Claire Cronin and research by Mickey Taylor. The amazing cast of voice actors includes Laura Faye Smith, Tom Bauer, Joe Hernandez, and Brian Green. Solve Murder stars Wendy McKenzie and Carter Roy. You aren't supposed to know about them unless they want you to. Powerful groups with their own very specific agendas. And if you find yourself on the inside, good luck getting out.

Hi, I'm Hannah Maguire and I'm Sarutibala. Join us every Tuesday for our new Spotify original from Parkast, Sinister Societies. Whether it's Doomsday Predictions, Deadly Greed or World Domination, each week we're exposing the beliefs and actions of the most ominous organisations the world may or may not have known. Follow Sinister Societies free and only on Spotify.