The Binge Cases: Denise Didn't Come Home - My Fugitive Dad | 1. Becoming Thomas Crown

Episode Date: December 4, 2023

The summer of 1968 one of the most iconic heist movies ever made came out. The Thomas Crown Affair starred Steve McQueen as a clever businessman who pulls off an elaborate robbery. Ted Conrad, a kid from Cleveland, admired this film so much he walked out of Society National Bank with hundreds of thousands of dollars in a paper bag. Some say he stole the money for the same reasons Crown did: to see if he could get away with it. But Ashley wonders, what was his real motive? Subscribe to The Binge to get all episodes of Smoke Screen: My Fugitive Dad, ad-free right now. Click ‘Subscribe’ at the top of the Smoke Screen: My Fugitive Dad show page on Apple Podcasts or visit GetTheBinge.com to get access wherever you get your podcasts. A Neon Hum Media & Sony Music Entertainment production. Find more great podcasts from Sony Music Entertainment at sonymusic.com/podcasts and follow us @sonypodcasts Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

You're listening to Smokescreen, my fugitive dad. Before you dive in, if you want to listen to the whole story uninterrupted, you can. Unlock the entire season ad-free right now with a subscription to The Binge. That's all episodes, all at once. Unlock your listening now by clicking subscribe at the top of the Smokescreen show page on Apple Podcasts or visit getthebinge.com to get access wherever you get your podcasts. Okay, I guess if we're going to tell the story from the top, we kind of need to start with the movie. You got to give the people what they want.

The Thomas Crown Affair was released in 1968. It was one of the most iconic heist films ever made. Go. In the movie, Thomas Crown is a clever and charming businessman who pulls off an elaborate and inimitable robbery of a bank in Boston, Massachusetts. Go. Steve McQueen is the lead. His character is already rich. He does it seemingly because he can.

The getaway car, a wood-paneled station wagon, exits the Massachusetts turnpike, canvas sacks of money in the trunk. The driver drops them off in a trash can at the Cambridge Cemetery. A little while later, McQueen arrives in a black Rolls Royce to pick up the sacks. He drives home. His butler asks him about his day. Fine. Just fine. He tells him, go home early. Thank you, sir.

He walks into the ante room, pours himself a drink, looking sharp with his crew cut of golden blonde hair and tailored suit. He catches himself in the mirror for a cheeky moment of primordial narcissism and toasts his own reflection. Then reclines on the couch, biting into a thick cigar and is unable to control his laughter. He's done it. And that's really where the film starts as law enforcement

and a special investigator slash love interest played by Faye Dunaway are hot on his trail. It's one of those summer blockbusters that kids of the era must have flocked to,

the flashy thrill of the chase and a leading man all the boys wanted to emulate. But there was only one young man watching that film among the millions who must have seen it that summer in small towns and big cities across America that took his obsessive admiration for Steve McQueen a bit too far.

He was a kid from Cleveland, Ohio, named Ted Conrad. He loved the movie, went time and again to see it in the theater. He loved it so much that he tried to pull off his own heist. And the crazy thing is, he did it. He stole hundreds of thousands of dollars. This is the story of a crime that impacted two families in profoundly different ways. One desperate for the truth and the other unwittingly living a lie.

A cop with a life's mission to find answers. A family with no idea that they hold the key to solving the case. A key that once unlocked, would transform their lives. It's been over half a century since Ted Conrad stole a fortune from Society National Bank. And the real story of what happened has remained a mystery until now. From Neon Hum Media and Sony Music Entertainment, this is Smokescreen, my fugitive dad. I'm Jonathan Hirsch. Chapter One, Becoming Thomas Crown. I've covered some fascinating characters as a documentarian over the years.

Cult leaders, dirty cops, corrupt politicians. But I have never been so consumed with the desire to know a complete stranger until I heard about Ted Conrad. Some call his crime the greatest cold case in Ohio State history. It's not that he stole the money, but more that for decades, there were no credible leads. The U.S. Marshals, the local police, FBI, all were on the hook to track down Ted. And for 52 years, there was a lot of smoke, but no fire. This case defined the career for the Deputy U.S. Marshal of Northern Ohio, John Elliott.

What's it like to chase somebody for 50 years? Every once in a while, I think about it. We're going to get this guy one of these days. He's going to slip up and make a mistake. And you can see why. I mean, the crime itself was baffling. Can you just walk out of a bank with all that money like that? It's like some sleight of hand, elegantly simple but infinitely complex.

It was one of those Reddit mysteries that people obsess about online. Like D.B. Cooper, the man who skyjacked a plane and disappeared into thin air. He had talked about it with friends in the past about how easy it would be to, you know, take money and disappear. And that's what he did. That's Pete Elliott, by the way. His dad was John Elliott, the deputy U.S. Marshal who spent his entire life chasing Ted Conrad. He walked in, put $215,000 in a paper bag. He had a carton of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey with him. Put that on top of the bag. Had a quick chat with his boss, the manager of the bank, who wished him happy birthday. And unbelievably, in a moment that

would live on as legend, he walked out the front door and disappeared in thin air. Never to be seen or heard from again. Ted Conrad walked out of the bank he worked at. He disappeared with a paper bag containing $215,000. This is Unsolved Mysteries of the World. I'm digging into the case files in search of any new clues that might help track down this notorious fugitive. And a big part of that obsession had to do with the myth that had been built up around Ted. Ted did seem to have that certain something. I tracked down friends who'd known him 50 years ago, and they said he was smart, good-looking, had this mischievous look in his eye,

a playfulness in his smile, gave off that star quarterback vibe, but also a touch more sophistication, almost academic, the jock professor, if you will. He had a girlfriend, in fact, a few. But in the fallout of his disappearance, there was one detail that people fixated on in particular, his obsession with the movie The Thomas Crown Affair. Let's start with the money. Well, I don't have it. What would you do if you did? People thought that Ted Conrad had stolen a page from a Hollywood script.

A handsome, brash young man who made a decision that led to a life on the run, without family or friends or recourse, just this big bag of money to keep him warm. He wanted to become Thomas Crown. What kind of person could pull off such an elaborate crime? He had the smarts to outfox law enforcement for the better part of half a century. But the most baffling mystery of all to me was why. Why did this young man choose a life like this and never look back? All of the articles about Ted made it seem like, just like Steve McQueen, he did it because he could. From the beginning, I was convinced there had to be more to the story than that. Bonnevue Avenue in Lakewood, Ohio is mostly two- and three-story wood-framed houses

with wide steps leading up to front porches. Summers are blistering and muggy, but the long arms of trees shade the sidewalks. An occasional breeze off of Lake Erie brings respite from the heat. Lakewood is a suburb of Cleveland. To this day, it has a small-town vibe. Nice place to raise a family. Walking south, you cross Detroit Avenue, one of the main drags. And then you pick your path, wending through the streets all built in the same style at the same time.

Trevor Rout leads you to Franklin Boulevard and Lakewood High School. My name is Russ Metcalf. I live in the beautiful state of Texas, but when I was in high school, I lived in Lakewood, Ohio, and was very good friends with a guy by the name of Ted Conrad. The campus of Lakewood High spans an entire block, and if you walk through the halls, courtyards, and clamoring noise of the high school, you'll get to the football field. And that's where, in their junior year, Ted and Russ became friends. Most of the kids I went to school with all grew up there. I didn't. Neither did Ted. Russ remembers Ted as being like him at the time. Bit of an outsider,

trying to feel at home in Lakewood. It was all the normal things you'd expect. I mean, it was a middle class to lower middleclass community. Steel workers and bus drivers, as well as corporate executives. Ted's dad was a teacher. His mom was a violinist. When they divorced, his mom remarried, this guy named Raymond Marsh. It was a great town to grow up in. There was lots of things to do. The biggest crime I can remember is when we would go out on Friday nights and toilet paper people's houses. Ted came back to Cleveland after a year at college, which is when Ted and his pal Russ would end up getting a job at a bank.

Two different banks down the street from each other. The good old days of recruiting. One of our friends from high school was working for an employment agency. And we were out having a beer someplace, and he came over and said, Hey, you guys looking for a job? And he had this big stack of cards that had all these jobs. And the first one he came to was for a vault teller at what was called at the time Society National Bank. The vault teller.

And Ted said, Well, that sounds good. So Ted went and interviewed and got the job right off. Not long after that, Russ's friend got him a job at another bank nearby. Russ looks back at that period of his life fondly. He and Ted were on top of the world. They'd play golf together, go out to parties, and double date. Ted was dating a girl at the time named Kathy Einhaus.

Friday night was like our night to sit and sip champagne and eat shrimp. And we had a really good time together. We laughed a lot. But little did Russ and Kathy know back then that Ted was probably already plotting his way out. Ted would talk about how lax the security was. I mean, he said, they didn't even fingerprint me when I came to work for this. Actually, my sister and I went to the bank one day. We were going to meet him for lunch, and he said, do you want to see where I work? And we said, sure. And he said, come around to the back of the bank. And we did. He opened the store, we came in and we were like, whoa,

in this big room of money. I know he didn't want anyone to see us there. We went into the vault and we were sitting there and we were holding armloads of money and there was nobody in there but the three of us. So it wasn't like we were there for any long period of time. And then he kind of ushered us out and then we went around to the front of the bank and met him for lunch. Russ and Kathy confirmed that the Thomas Crown Affair loomed large in Ted's life at the time. I probably didn't see the Thomas Crown Affair with Ted until after he'd seen it five times. Yeah, I went with him to see it, and right after, he did light a cigar. He thought it was charming, and it made him look charming.

He loved Steve. You do live very well, don't you? No complaints. Well, we both love Stephen Queen but he just he thought it was really cool that here this guy could be so pardon the words suave and debonair

and he was brilliant and yet he was crafty enough that he could pull off a bank heist and never get caught that's one of the things I guess that caused Ted to start talking about the bank could pull off a bank heist and never get caught. That's one of the things, I guess, that caused Ted to start talking about the bank and what they could get away with. I can't believe what I could get away with.

Russ struggles, still, to separate fact from fiction when it comes to Ted. Go. Go. In the film, Thomas Crown employed a strategically positioned team to execute his grand heist. The getaway driver never saw Crown's face. He wasn't there when they entered the bank, when they liquidated the vaults and walked calmly and quickly out the front door.

Ted Conrad worked at the bank. He pulled off the crime by himself. But he was thinking about and planning how to pull off the heist for months. That's what Kathy, his girlfriend at the time, told me. You know what, it was not an obsession, but there was a group of us one night, and we were all sitting around, just sitting around and talking, and he mentioned that it would be easy to walk out of the bank with a bunch of money. And we were just throwing around ideas about, you know,

how you could get a fake birth certificate. And he and I actually went to the Bureau of Vital Statistics and got my little brother's birth certificate. They didn't ask me for identification or anything. I just said, I need this birth certificate, and gave my mother's maiden name, and they gave it to me. They didn't even ask who I was. It just, it was one of those things. I just, it's been a

part of my life ever since. And I, there hasn't been a day gone by that I didn't think about him. Because I mean, I mean, it's 52 years and I, I still kept thinking I was going to run into him or I would see him or I would talk to him. According to Russ, he and Ted were inseparable. And since Ted was turning 20 that final week they saw each other, they made plans to go out. They went just north of downtown to a little restaurant on the lake that used to be located at Burke Lakefront Airport, a small landing strip that runs alongside the water. I had a great time, and we talked about everything. We talked about plans.

My fiancé and I were planning our wedding, and Ted, of course, was going to be my best man. The night wore on. It was a celebration. When the check came, and we both worked, we both had money, I reached to get the check, and he wouldn't let me pay it. I said, Ted, it's your birthday. He said, no, no, no. He says, I don't know how many times I can, you know,

he says, I haven't taken you out to dinner much. It was a peculiar thing to say, coming from Ted, that is. And it was really strange, because Ted never picked up a check. He was one of those guys that, he's happy, I mean, he wouldn't feel bad about treating you, but he was happy enough to let somebody else pick up the check.

Everyone stumbled home. A great night. The next day would be their last as friends. But at the time, Russ had no idea. In the morning, a few hours before he disappeared with the money, Ted called him up. He said, you up for lunch? I said, sure. They decided to meet at a restaurant halfway between the two banks where they worked. The best grilled hamburgers I've ever had. A place called the Flaming Embers. They had an hour-long lunch break

and were at the restaurant for maybe 40 minutes. They made plans to play golf the next day at Rocky River Park. He said, I got to go to the liquor store. I said, what for? He says, we may get together this weekend, so I want to get some Southern comfort and I need to get a carton of cigarettes. I said, okay. We may get together this weekend, so I want to get some Southern comfort, and I need to get a carton of cigarettes.

I said, okay. And again, Ted offered to pick up the check. And I'm going, Ted, this is getting ridiculous. He says, nah, nah, he says, I owe it to you. So he went his way and I went my way. And then that night was when he disappeared. who would attack his victims if they said his name five times into a bathroom mirror. But did you know that the movie Candyman was partly inspired by an actual murder? I was struck by both how spooky it was, but also how outrageous it was. Listen to Candyman, the true story behind the bathroom mirror murder,

wherever you get your podcasts. Let's make sure I'm just... So these are all going to be your podcasts. Let's start with the investigation into that day. I'm sitting in the sprawling corner office of Pete Elliott. Remember, he's the one whose dad, John, spent the better part of his career trying to find Ted Conrad. Pete pulled out boxes, dragged them onto the floor around his desk, and we sat across from each other looking at them. It's a cloudy spring day in Cleveland. From Pete's office, you can see downtown, where Society National Bank used to be, where all of this started. Can you hang on one second? Yeah, hang on, Jonathan. Pete Elliott.

We comb through some of the boxes. Feels like we're looking at old family photos no one's gotten around to organizing. All right, thank you. The story of Ted and his disappearance seemed, at first, impossible to penetrate. Like those cross-sections of the earth, each clue is another layer, but no end in sight. And sitting there with Pete in his office, I felt awash in all those details. I watched Pete as he brought me

artifacts and documents to discuss. How about the tape? You got the tape? I've got the tape, yeah. He has this stern look on his face while he does it. Maybe he's lost interest in this case decades ago, or maybe it's all he thinks about. He's the kind of guy who doesn't let on very much. He reminded me of my Midwestern uncles. I knew from the beginning that the story of Ted Conrad wasn't just about a young man who stole money from his employer. It's also a story about Pete. Pete and his dad, John. Well, that's all he did was talk about Conrad. John was the deputy U.S. Marshal first assigned to Ted's case in 1969. John Elliott

was obsessed with solving the Conrad case. Ted was practically his nemesis for over 40 years. It was his lifelong mission to, you know, he made an enemy with Conrad right away, right? And sometimes you need that, and you're like, that other thing to motivate you. People talked about Ted's crime, and this way they made it sound like he was some kind of miracle. Like when someone sees the Virgin Mary in a cupcake or something like that.

Ted Conrad was a magician. But I still couldn't shake the sense that despite how well executed the crime appeared to have been, he was practically a teenager from suburban Cleveland. Not a criminal mastermind. Or was he? Ted's every move leading up to the day had been scrutinized. Every relative or friend of his had been interviewed again and again, trying to find some clue as to where he disappeared to and how he was able to walk away with hundreds of thousands of dollars. From everything that we know,

the investigation is right here at Society National Bank. And Conrad was working there. Ted Conrad went into work. In the morning, you know, he was driven to work by his girlfriend because his car had broken down. And that was July 11th, 1969. A couple of hours later, Ted gave his girlfriend Kathy Einhaus a call.

Said this is a big day. At around 2 30 in the afternoon, Ted called Kathy again. And stated he might rob the bank today. She didn't believe him. Just before the end of the workday at 4.30, he got ready to leave. He was seen carrying a medium-sized paper sack, a cigarette carton on top of the sack, stuffed underneath the carton of smokes, $215,000, the equivalent of $1.8 million today. And in a puff of smoke, Ted walked out the front door of Society National Bank and was never seen again.

And from that moment on, he would drift further and further from his life in Cleveland, transform into something else, something different than the kid Russ knew, a myth. The vault teller from Cleveland who liked fast cars the time Conrad was residing saw Conrad get into a yellow cab, wearing a brown suit, and carrying extra clothes. Rapid station, please. Ted booked a cab to Rapid Station, the train stop in downtown. He had two suitcases with him. In the cab, he changed his destination.

Actually, the airport. He asked the driver to take him to Hopkins Airport. Told the driver he's heading to Denver. Which airline? The cabbie asked. Drop me off at the main terminal. Conrad said. A flight was booked from Cleveland to Washington National Airport.

Northwest Flight 382, under the name C. Singletary. A man matching the description of Ted was seen on board. And as far as we know, incredibly, Ted Conrad never returned to Cleveland. Never spoke to his mom or dad or his friends ever again. Nobody suspected the money was missing until Monday morning when Ted didn't show up for work. Obviously he had a whole plan in place or somebody had a whole plan in place for him.

There's still a lot of things that, you know, still some questions that I have. That night, Russ was at his girlfriend Christine's house. According to Russ, Ted called him. Russ still lived with his parents at the time, so his mom answered the phone. Then Ted called Christine's, but they didn't answer. He tried to reach his girlfriend, too. He called me that evening and said, do you want to come over and I have something to show you?

And I said, no. I said, I'm going out with a friend. I said, I'll talk to you tomorrow. On Saturday morning, Russ drove over to Ted's house as planned. I pulled up, I walked upstairs to his apartment, knocked on the door, knocked on the door, and nobody was there. And I looked in the back where the parking was,

and his car wasn't there. He didn't think much of it at the time. Maybe Ted had forgotten about golf. Russ went about his weekend, wasn't concerned. The car, it turns out, was parked just up the street. And by now, Ted was states away. And I didn't realize it until probably a few days later. When we parted, he said goodbye.

He didn't say, I'll see you tomorrow. He didn't say, have a good afternoon. He just said, bye, Russ. And, you know, after the fact, thinking about it, it's like, I wonder if he was trying to tell me something. I wonder if he was, you know, if there was something that he just, I just, it was hard for me to understand the way he was. That Monday morning, the bank did an audit of their funds, and surprise, surprise, the money was missing.

Well, originally it was an FBI case, so the FBI, because it was a bank robbery, quote unquote, they would have been involved initially in it. So after the bank administrators found out that a substantial portion of the company's funds had gone missing, they contacted the feds. And it didn't take long to put two and two together. The guy in charge of the vault? He didn't show up for work. When there's a warrant that's issued, it comes to U.S. Marshal Service. A warrant was issued for Ted Conrad's arrest. The formal charge is bank embezzlement, since he

didn't technically rob the bank. From the very beginning, Pete's dad, John Elliott, was working the case. That included digging into Ted's background, interviewing his friends, calling around to see if anyone might have known about his whereabouts or plans, which, of course, led them in short order to Russ. On Monday morning, Russ got a call from another friend. He also worked in the bank with Ted, and we partied together a few times. And I got a call at my bank, at my desk,

and he said, Russ, have you seen Ted? And I told him, I said, no, we had lunch Friday, we were supposed to play golf Saturday, he never showed up. A couple of hours later, that friend called him back. And I said, what's going on? He says, Ted hasn't shown up. He hasn't called in, and there's a shortage.

I think he actually said there's money missing. But I said, really? And he said, yeah. He says, I'll get back to you. Russ carried on with his day. But no doubt by then, he had started to wonder if, after all the times Ted talked about how easy it'd be to steal from the bank, if he'd actually, this time, crossed the Rubicon.

Three hours later, he got another call. It was the attorney's office at Russ's bank. One of the attorneys said, Russ, come over to my office. And I walked in, and there were two guys in suits sitting at his desk. And I looked at him, and I still don't know why I did it. And I said, you guys must be from the FBI. How much did he get? It was still a joke to Russ.

Maybe it hadn't fully set in yet what was going on. But to the FBI, there was nothing funny about it. They said, well, we can't discuss that, but do you happen to know where Ted is? And then we got in this whole thing about, you know, where would he go? The next day, Ted Conrad sent a letter to his girlfriend, Kathy Einhaus. It had been shipped from the Washington National Airport station. He asked her to burn the letters so the authorities wouldn't find them, and thankfully, she didn't. On July 17, 1969, six days after Ted disappeared with the money,

he wrote a second letter to his girlfriend Kathy. About a week after that, a search warrant is issued for Ted's apartment and car. Inside, the feds found two Society National Canvas bank bags and a bottle of Canadian Club whiskey. In the next two weeks, Ted would reach out to people he knew two more times before his trail went cold. Ted left behind a lot. A girlfriend, a job, brothers and sisters, a mother, a stepfather, a group of friends. The rest has become the stuff of legend. So, where is Teddy Conrad today? Who knows? The Conrad Trail is cold as marshals look to generate some kind of heat.

However he might be found, U.S. marshals aren't giving up on the hunt for the kid who turned the Thomas Crown Affair into his real life. And this unbelievable story was one that I was about to, in a way, become a part of myself. Because it turns out that while Pete's dad, John Elliott, had been turning over every stone, following every blind lead to a dead end, dear pumpkin head. Happy birthday to you. It's the late winter, 2023. I'm at a storage facility outside of Linfield, Massachusetts,

a ten-minute drive from Ted's house. I'm here with someone who is, like me, aching to tell Ted's story, to understand it, to make sense of what he left behind. Still bleary-eyed from the red-eye I took to Boston, I watched the aluminum roll-top doors draw slowly down and the beige winter light of the North Shore disappear with it. When I first came to this town in search of Ted, I remember driving around Linfield, scanning the street, almost as if I'd find something along the way.

I went to Ted's old house, to the golf course where he used to play. Nothing. At last, a close friend of Ted's called me. I pulled over to the side of the road. He wouldn't talk, for all the reasons I'd heard. We respect the family's privacy, etc. But he also said there's another reason. I just miss him so much.

And this little recognition washed over me like a tiny wave that made me aware of the bigger waves farther out to sea. There was more to the story of Ted. He is in khakis, and you can see in the photo that they have at least a double pleat in the front, because he loved a pleated pant, and then one of his either Land Rover or golf shirts. More than anyone, this person holds the key to the mystery. And I'm thinking to myself, how amazing it is. How little we can confidently say about this man after all these years.

How little we can confidently say about anybody. I thought I knew my dad, but that was before I found out he'd been a fugitive for decades. You should probably introduce yourself. Uh, yeah. I'm Ashley. I'm actually Ted's daughter. But you weren't always aware of that. No. Could you have ever imagined your dad was a criminal mastermind? Absolutely not. He was always so relaxed and easygoing. I never would have guessed how many secrets he had.

You and your dad were unusually close, though,, right? Like you weren't just his only child You were also sort of his confidant Yeah, I think he would tell me things because he either thought that I could handle it better than my mom Or that I just have this terrible gift of being able to compartmentalize things and put it on a shelf and tuck it away Maybe he would give her 10 of a story and then I might get 30%, but I would definitely get more than she did. But now at 38 years old, she found herself asking,

what percentage of the story he told her was a lie? Was it all a lie? I deserve to know my father's name. I deserve to know my father's name I deserve to know my name She also deserves to know why Why did Ted take off with the money And leave his whole life behind This burning question

Was how Ashley and I found ourselves on a journey In search of the real Ted He wasn't a wise guy I mean he'd look you straight in the eyes The only time I saw him was sad in search of the real Ted. He wasn't a wise guy. I mean, he'd look you straight in the eyes. The only time I saw him was sad when he was saying that his parents were killed with his twin brothers in a car accident. He was Ohio's most infamous fugitive. Some people portrayed Conrad as a, you know, a Robin Hood,

and my dad called him nothing but a, you know, a thief. He kept plenty of secrets. And he said, if I tell you, you have to promise you will not look into it. I don't want you looking into anything. I don't want you telling anybody. Ted Conrad, it turns out, was a mystery even to those who knew him best. And we'll tell you, at long last, not only how he did it,

but why. Unlock all episodes of Smokescreen, My Fugitive Dad, ad-free right now by subscribing to the Binge Podcast channel. Not only will you immediately unlock all episodes of this show, but you'll get binge access to an entire network of other great true crime and investigative podcasts all ad-free. Plus, on the first of every month, subscribers get a binge drop of a brand new series. That's all episodes, all at once. Unlock your listening now by clicking subscribe at the top of the Smokescreen Show page on Apple Podcasts or visit getthebinge.com to get access wherever you get your podcasts. Smokescreen, My Fugitive Dad is an original production of Neon Hum Media and Sony Music Entertainment.

It was written and produced by me, Jonathan Hirsch. Ashley Randall and I co-hosted it. Our editor is Catherine St. Louis. She's also Neon Hum Media's executive editor. Our executive producers are me and Ashley. Sound design and mixing by Scott Somerville. Theme and original music composed by Matt McGinley. We also use music by Blue Dot Sessions and Epidemic Sound. Our associate producer is Anne Lin. Catherine Newhon is our fact checker. Our production manager is Samantha Allison.

Our lawyers are Rachel Goldberg and Allison Sherry. Special thanks to Joanna Clay, Shara Morris, Steve Ackerman, Emily Rasek, Devin Schwartz, Laura Ubatte, Amy Eddings, Corinne and Weldon Pless, and the voice of young Ted Conrad. If you're enjoying the show, be sure to rate and review. It helps more people find it. Thanks so much for listening. you