Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 432 - Gerald Stano: Florida's Forgotten Monster

Episode Date: December 9, 2024

Have you ever heard of serial killer Gerald Stano? For years, he sat on death row in Florida, just a few cells down from Ted Bundy. He's also believed my most sources to have killed more girls and young women than Bundy did. So why is this monster, whose first six months of his life were so brutal he was deemed "unadoptable" by the government agency that removed him from his mother's care, almost entirely unknown in the world of true crime?Merch and more: www.badmagicproductions.com Timesuck Discord! https://discord.gg/tqzH89vWant to join the Cult of the Curious PrivateFacebook Group? Go directly to Facebook and search for "Cult of the Curious" to locate whatever happens to be our most current page :)For all merch-related questions/problems: [e-mail] (copy and paste)Please rate and subscribe on Apple Podcasts and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcastWanna become a Space Lizard? Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcast.Sign up through Patreon, and for $5 a month, you get access to the entire Secret Suck catalog (295 episodes) PLUS the entire catalog of Timesuck, AD FREE. You'll also get 20% off of all regular Timesuck merch PLUS access to exclusive Space Lizard merch.

Are some people just truly fucked from the very beginning or at least from very near the very beginning? For example could someone suffer so much abuse and or neglect in their first six months of life that they just can't ever fully recover And live a normal life even if they don't have obvious physical disabilities or mental illnesses While it's sweet to think that we all have a fighting chance in life that some amount of therapy love and security It's sweet to think that we all have a fighting chance in life that some amount of therapy, love, and security could turn even the most abused and unwell person into a healthy, happy, functioning member of society. Is that really true? I've teetered back and forth about this over the years, but generally I think I've leaned

towards believing that while the overwhelming majority of us have a lot of say over what kind of person we get to choose to be in this life, there are rare exceptions. Gerald Eugene Stano may have been one of those exceptions. Born Paul Zeineger on September 12, 1951 in Schenectady, New York, Gerald Stano was his mother's fifth child. She's unnamed in sources. And the third that would be taken from her by social services. She neglected him to such an extent that when baby Paul was finally taken, doctors declared him unfit for adoption, saying he was functioning quote, at an animalistic level and habitually ate his own feces as some sort of survival mechanism. He was lucky to still be alive by the time he was taken from his mother's home. A couple named Eugene and Norma Stano eventually adopted Zynegor and legally changed his name to Gerald Eugene Stano.

But they seemingly couldn't overcome his bad beginnings. Progressing from lying to stealing to coercing a mentally disabled girl to have sex with him and impregnating her, Gerald Stano graduated to murder by the time he was in his early 20s. In Daytona Beach, where he would make his home as an adult, he killed a woman on an average of every three months, but sometimes he separated his victims by only weeks or even days. From 1973 to 1980, at least 23 women died at the hands of this moody, violent man who prowled the streets wearing his distinctive disco-inspired wide lapel shirts and polyester

pants and bump and don of summer and the like. Twenty-three women confirmed, but Stano would ultimately confess to 41 murders. And the primary detective who worked with Stano to find closure on unsolved murder cases became convinced the true number of his murder victims was closer to 88. In many circumstances, the trigger that sent Stano into a murderous rage was the same. Comments about his manhood, his clothes, or his weight frequently provoked him into a boiling rage, as did sexual rejection or anger over having to pay for sex.

And he lashed out and killed the girls as they sat cowering in the passenger seat of his car. Sometimes he lashed out with his fist, more often it was with a knife. As he continued to drive, this madman would slash his victims again and again. Other times he shot them. All of this left authorities baffled. Different jurisdictions in different ways, the victims died left investigators in various counties with only a small slice of the full picture. And even if they'd managed to look at all of Gerald's victims holistically it would still have seemed incredibly unlikely that one man would go for both sex workers and college students. 12 year old kids he knew, working women in their mid-30s

he didn't know. Gerald Stano's murderous appetite knew no bounds. If he came across a girl or woman who he felt was vulnerable, who he thought he could kill, that's often exactly what he did. The disturbing story of killing machine Gerald Stano, a man who had spent much of his final years in a death row cell just a few feet down from another cell that housed Ted Bundy, today on another murderous, serial killing, Florida man edition of Time Suck. This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to Time Suck. This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to Time Suck. Well, happy Monday and welcome to the Cult of the Curious. I'm Dan Cummins, the Suck Master. Slick Danny. Guy who wants to get high on Molly and then go to a

Pentecostal revival where everyone is danced around and screaming some gibberish and treat it like a rave and you are listening to Time Suck. Hail Nimrod, hail Lucifina, praise be to good boy Bojangles and glory be to Triple M. And before anything else, right before this recording, I was cracking myself up, maybe a little too much, pretending to treat a revival like a rave by mashing up the video I played at the end of last week's show. And I played a little bit of it during the show too, of Pastor Ulf Elkman, or Ulf Ekman going insane. I matched it with a techno track called Fading from AIM2HEAD's official YouTube channel. And I have to play it for you. I don't have to, but I'm going to. How fun is this? All right, we get him going. Oh

Yeah. Oh, yeah, let's get a beat. Get a beat going too Yeah Huh? Yeah! Ha ha ha ha! Yeah! Now we're partying. Now we're partying like it's the apocalypse! Saute! Ha ha ha ha! Ah. Oh, come on, come on. Oh, yeah, buddy.

Hey, I got a brand new bus. Come on, come on. Why hasn't a professional DJ who's actually good at this stuff done a better version of that, a much better version of that? So funny to me. I love it. I love it probably more than I should. Okay. After that bit of maybe punishment, how about no announcements? Let's just fucking go. Let's talk about a man. That if in fact he killed 88 women, as some suspect, it would make him among the most prolific American serial killers in history. Samuel Little, future Suck subject for sure, was active during some of the same years as Stano, but longer between 1970 to 2005.

He was convicted of killing three women, but later investigations linked 31 other murders to him. And then he claimed before he died that he killed as many as 93 victims. The FBI later confirmed a total of at least 60 murders, very strongly linked to Little. Gary Ridgway, the Green River killer, confessed to killing 71 women. He was suspected of killing over 90 victims and was convicted of 49. But both Ridgway and Little were active for well over a decade. In Little's case, over three decades, 35 years. In Ridgway's case, 16 years. Gerald Stano, meanwhile, was active as far as we know for just seven years.

So if he did kill as many victims as some think he did, he was far more bloodthirsty than even Little and Ridgway. He would at one point claim to have started more bloodthirsty than even Little and Ridgway. He would at one point claim to have started murdering in the late 60s but even then that gives him only 11 or 12 years to rack up a similar body count as very prolific serial killers who were active for twice that long or more. It's crazy he got away with his murders for as long as he did and you'll see you know he really struggled with impulse control. It didn't take much to set him off and when he got mad he got murderous. Stano also never seemed to go through that winding up phase that many serial with impulse control. It didn't take much to set him off and when he got mad he got murderous.

Stano also never seemed to go through that winding up phase that many serial killers do. First they attack someone but don't kill them, perhaps multiple someones. They slowly take things further and further until they've completed their first murder. Gerald seemingly jumps straight to murder. His MO, to drink and do a lot of drugs, to find a girl on the street, to kill her before not carefully disposing of her body under a few branches or some foliage, seemed to be present from just about the very beginning. And that is of course exceptionally terrifying. The idea that someone could be out there who is known from a very young age, that they don't want to just merely hurt or attack, they want to kill.

Gerald Stano made his life all about the hunt. There was no double life. Not really. No respectable family man by day, killer by night scenario. There was minimal compartmentalization. Mostly just a lot of carnage. As for the question, what made me kill and kill again? I can't really answer that except like this. I would be drinking and lonely and thinking about all the couples having fun together and here I am

single having no fun at all. Then I would go out riding around and I would find a girl walking and hopefully she would get into my car but she would end up making some kind of remark about my weight, music or looks. That would turn me into a different person altogether. I really don't like to talk about that person because it gets me very upset. These were Gerald Eugene Stano's words written in one of his many letters when Stano was waiting to be executed by the state of Florida that he sent to reporter and author Cathy Kelly, co-author of the 2011 book on Gerald, I Would Find a Girl Walking, a book we relied on heavily for a lot of today's details.

They sound like they could be the words of most serial killers. Save for the killers who were deemed really handsome, like Ted Bundy, people who used their charm and social standing to make their victims feel safe, how many people have we covered that have done some version of this? They go out hunting, looking for people, generally girls and young women, who are alone, isolated, having car trouble, or maybe out street walking as sex workers, out hitchhiking. They convince them to get inside their car and they convince them, and then they introduce them, excuse me, to their real self, the monster.

What's curiously absent about Stano's description of his mindset before he kills though is that he doesn't give himself any motive specifically. With most serial killers, especially men who target young women, there's a very clear strong motive that comes across within the violent act. Typically, you know, that sex and violence got connected at some point in their brains and they can't achieve sexual satisfaction without killing. For some, like what this big deal? Russian serial killer Andrei Chikatilo? It's so extreme that they have a hell of a time achieving an orgasm with a sexual partner unless there is violence and terror. But with Gerald Staino that doesn't seem to be the case. The murders he committed didn't seem

to be sexually motivated, not directly. He was a monster, but he wasn't, it seems, a rapist. He would never give investigators clear answers about whether or not he had sex with his victims, either before or after they were dead, or if he did give those answers, they were never reported. He also wasn't ever charged with rape. Given the lack of emphasis on sex in Gerald's crimes, some investigators have turned to alternate explanations for why he did what he did. That he wasn't motivated by sex, but rather by family. Stana was born to a woman, unnamed in sources,

as I mentioned, who had had multiple children, who were taken by social services, and Gerald would be no different. By the time he was removed from the situation, he was borderline unrecognizable as a human infant. Literally eating his own shit, among other things, always sick, wasn't developing and hitting milestones like a normal baby should even though he had no physical disabilities or cognitive impairments.

He was ultimately adopted by Norma and Eugene Stano, a couple who convinced social services to let them adopt Gerald despite his myriad of issues. And they never seemed to get him the help he clearly needed. Possibly they abused him further. He would say, my childhood was the usual. If I wanted to buy something, I had to have a good reason. If I wanted to talk to my father, I would cringe at the sight of him. I was afraid of him and to this day I am still afraid of him. My mother would take

charge of us, Gerald and his adopted brother Arthur, during the week and tell him, dad, what we did wrong on the phone. When he got home, he would march us both into the bathroom and beat us with a leather razor strap. When I cracked up the family car, he came after me with a straight edge razor opened up. When I had accidents with my cars, he would always go into a rage and say, why couldn't you have been killed?

Well, this unfortunately wasn't actually all that abnormal for a 1950s household to have an angry dad who disciplined you with a leather strap or belt or something similar, who sometimes said really messed up shit about how they wished you would have been killed in a car accident or something. The straight razor part, way over the top, even for the time period. But angry dad quick to dole out corporal punishments, not emotionally available, emotionally cruel. Back in the 50s, that was kind of the norm, I think. The norm for most of human history, actually, probably sadly. For Stano, whose relationship to family was already so fraught due to his beginning,

he may have been more sensitive than most to additional trauma, if this backstory is even true, of course. As is the case with many, if not most other serial killers. Hard to take a lot of what Stano said at face value. If it wasn't true, and I do lean towards thinking that he was full of shit about his parents, it seems that Stano's parents were ultimately really good to him. They were supportive of him, seemed to punish him when he did something wrong, tried to put him in different situations to help him thrive, like, you know, having him go live with Norma's parents in Florida, but they also never got him the

psychological help he needed. If there was even a level of help that could have changed him. However not getting kids psychological help back then was also pretty damn normal. It wasn't something that probably even crossed a lot of parents minds, especially working-class parents not living in some progressive college town or coastal city. Then as an adult, Jerry would definitely not be able to figure out how to build out his own healthy family. He was briefly married to a hairdresser named Teresa Esposito. Before she and her family figured out how fucking nuts he was, Gerald Stano just couldn't seem to build strong, normal,

healthy relations with family members. And some think that's one of the things that strongly motivated his killings With each murder Gerald Stano severed a sacred bond. He tore children away from their mothers their siblings their spouses In two cases the young women had twin brothers Ramona and Ray Neal and Barbara and Burt Bauer Their connection and relationship began in the womb Could it be possible that Stano took particular delight in tearing these families apart? Okay, enough teasing. Enough just poking the tip in. Let's fully penetrate the life of this scumbag. See if we can find out what made this monster tick in today's Time Suck Timeline.

Time Suck Timeline. Shrap on those boots soldier. We're marching down a Time Suck Timeline. On September 12th, 1951 in Connecticut, New York a baby boy is born. Actually, I'm guessing several babies were probably born there that day. Fortunately, only one that we know of will grow up to become a serial killer. This boy was the fifth baby born to his mother. She'd had two stillborns and her other two children had already begun or already been taken from her by the New York State Welfare Department. We don't know much about her other than that she was clearly wildly unfit as a parent.

Following giving birth to her son and naming him Paul, she went home with him. His last name was Zynegr, just like hers. We looked up census records and the like for any Zynegr since connected-y at the time. Couldn't find anyone who we can say conclusively was Paul's mom. So I don't have a first name. Couldn't find a digital copy of his birth certificate. Once at home, Paul was listless and cranky, often from hunger. Once at home, Paul was listless and cranky, often from hunger, starving and malnourished. He sat in dirty diapers for days on end. He was severely neglected, possibly abused as well. Eventually, like they had with his siblings, the New York State welfare department stepped in, sending social workers and declaring that the baby was in a state of quote, extreme

neglect and taking Paul from his birth mother when he was around six months old. And within a month of taking him, the authorities had found the baby boy some prospective adoptive parents, Eugene and Norma Stano, a couple in their 30s who had began by taking in the baby as a foster child. Some sources state that Norma worked as a nurse, that she was actually introduced to Paul when she cared for him during his initial stay in the hospital following being taken from his mother's care. The young couple, according to numerous sources, showered him with love trying to overcome the neglect and harshness of his early infancy. Because he'd missed out on crucial bonding time

with his biological mother, he was not a warm and cuddly child. Indeed, there's increasing evidence from the fields of developmental psychology, neurobiology, animal epigenetic studies that neglect parental inconsistency and a lack of love, particularly in early childhood, can lead to long-term mental health problems and even abnormal cognitive development in the brain. Research has found that parental neglect in infancy specifically can lead to reduced growth in the left hemisphere of the brain, which may lead to an increased risk for depression, increased sensitivity in the limbic system, which can lead to anxiety disorders, and reduced growth in the hippocampus that could contribute to learning and memory impairments. These findings have been backed up by cases of extreme neglect and outcomes of

children raised in the infamously brutal and well-studied Romanian orphanages. At the end of their first six months with him, as required by New York State law at the time at least, the Staino's allowed the child whom they renamed Gerald Eugene Staino to be examined by a team comprised of a psychiatric social worker, nurse, physician, psychologist, I guess another psychiatrist. Their job was to chart Gerald's development to see if he was responding well to his new environment and if they could see him growing up into a thriving child there. Their findings were devastating to the Stainhows. Gerald, just barely a year old, was already considered quote, unadoptable, which is wild to me. And his parents were told that he would have to return to the custody of the state. But Norma, his adoptive mother, didn't take the news well.

She fought for him as a trained nurse. She believed fervently in her own ability to nurture Gerald. She told the social worker, one of the psychologists, that she knew she could provide him with the home that he needed. The team of professionals hired by the state were eventually persuaded to let Norma and Eugene have Gerald. And the adoption did go through. But despite his parents' efforts, particularly the efforts of his mother

who seemed to try and shower him with affection, young Gerald didn't get much better. He remained aloof and withdrawn, never showing affection, never seeming to crave affection. He didn't speak at all until he was about two. Before that he was already an extremely neat little guy, craved order and consistency as a toddler to an unhealthy degree, insisting his toys and more be played with, you know, or kept a very specific way. For example, if Norma moved an end table across the room, Gerald would notice right away and really not like it. He would throw a crazy tantrum, screaming and crying, non-verbally pleading, you know,

that the thing be returned to its original position. Then once he could speak properly, you know, he's vocally demanding that things be put back the way they were. He had a terrible combination of being very, very rigid and having an explosive temper. He also continually struggled with his equilibrium, randomly. He was falling down a lot, slamming into things, frequently sick. What the hell is going on in his brain? Some doctors thought, remember how social workers determined that he was eating his own feces when he was still in his mother's care, that some of the feces he ate ended up in his sinus

cavity and from there I guess it could get into his brain. I'm sure we've all heard the phrase you know shit for brains. Well the origin that phrase turns out to be medical, which shocked me. It's a... I'm not great with Latin. Facease cerebro. Very rare condition or fecal matter. Fecal matter ends up in your brain leading to swelling, fever, infection, and a lot of cognitive damage. Having shit for brains. It's no joke. It's a real thing. Well, it's not a real thing. I just made it up. But it sounds like it could be a thing, right? It feels almost believable. No, back to reality now. He was kind of a shit for brains. By the time shit for brains... By the time Jerry... I'll call him Jerry. By the time Jerry

entered primary school, he'd suffered several head injuries as a result of general clumsiness. And I know I'm being hard on him now just because I know who he becomes. But at this point, he's an innocent little shit of a brains. But yeah, he had several head injuries as a result of his general clumsiness. Several 105 degree fevers. Also frequently wet the bed, which he would continue to do until the age of nine. He was angry. He would take his anger out on his classmates.

As early as kindergarten and first grade, Gerald earned the reputation of being a bully, shoving smaller children around, taunting them, biting them. School was a constant struggle. The best he could seem to manage with most subjects were C's and D's. Only subject he really liked and excelled in was music. He loved music. Didn't say what he played though,

but you know, just listened to records and the radio for hours on end if he could. Meanwhile at home, he was frequently caught lying and stealing. Stano's other adopted son Arthur was claiming that Jerry had stolen his toys or stolen his money for ice cream or a movie. And as he got older, Jerry's fucking Jerry behavior got worse. Years later, he would recall under hypnosis how he would murder a neighbor's chickens. At a sixth or seventh grader at the time, he said he would pick up a fluffy little chick then twist its neck sharply like twisting his little head off.

Watching and listening with glee as his tiny little chirping noises, you know, got snuffed out. Well first got more faint and then snuffed out and I got and I gotta say about this, I know some people are gonna disagree, but like why is that a big deal? I mean it would be messed up if he's doing that to kittens or puppies. Who cares about baby chickens? Let's be honest. Seems a little absurd to get worked up about chickens considering the percentage of people who literally eat chickens. And chicken fetuses, you know? Eggs. In the US roughly 75% of people eat chicken at least once a week. And one inuses, you know, eggs. In the US, roughly 75% of people eat chicken at least once a week. And one in five in the US eat eggs every single day.

So I'm not trying to sound cold here, but what are we doing? Who gives a fuck about chickens? I mean, I mean, if I would have caught one of my kids twisting the heads completely off of baby chickens, I'd only be upset that they didn't wait till the chickens were a bit older. So you know, they're more edible. I wouldn't care if they did that to adult chickens at all. They could have twisted a grown chicken's head off then played hacky sack with his head. As long as we cook up the body who gives a shit right? I'm only including this chicken info here since a few sources seem to think it was noteworthy for whatever reason. Jerry may

have learned about his adoption around the time he twisted some little chicken heads off. Upon later learning of his adoption he apparently said, did I do something wrong when I was a baby or what? And that is pretty damn sad By the time he reached junior high Gerald's childish pranks of stealing from fellow students and his family began to take on a more serious tone In Westchester County, New York He pulled fire fire alarms on several occasions enjoying the power he felt what a you know Hurriedly spoken message to the fire department would send trucks out sirens screaming people panicking over this bogus call

Another time from a hidden vantage point atop a highway overpass. He once tossed a large rock down into a car traveling below Luckily nobody was hurt, but I guess he smashed his shit out of the windshield could have killed somebody He was quickly caught and Westchester County juvenile authorities told the Stainos that after the rock throwing and the fire alarms, he got caught for at least one of those, a third brush with the law was going to send him to the state reformatory. So the Stainos now immediately took Gerald out of public school and enrolled him in the Hargrave Military Academy in Virginia. Thinking the atmosphere of structure and discipline there could help. But at Hargrave, he just went back to his old ways.

They had a chicken coop at the academy. One day they found young Jerry inside it, laying naked, covered in blood, surrounded by dead headless chickens, sleeping peacefully on a pillow of swords composed of nothing but a burlap sack full of chicken heads. He had literally twisted the heads off of every single chicken in the coop. And doing that gave him such peace, he was able to sleep deeply for the first time in years if not in his whole life. And doing that gave him such peace. He was able to sleep deeply for the first time in years If not in his whole life and then instead of just understanding that some kids

Yeah, they fucking need to kill a bunch of chickens to feel loved safe and understood Everyone overreacted to this situation that to me wasn't a big deal. Fuck those chickens. They're gonna eat them Anyway, like why are they doing this? So he gets in a lot of trouble over that bullshit Also borrowed large sums of money from other cadets and refused to pay him back Which led them to doing shit like making fun of his glasses and his weight and taunting him making little chick little chicken noises daring him to try and twist off their heads I Could probably stop now with all the chicken bullshit Any new listeners are probably what the fuck is wrong with this guy? No, I'm making all that up.

Other than the part about him twisting his neighbor's little chick heads off. You know, he did do that. And yeah, that's pretty disturbing. Soon. Okay. Moving past the chicken stuff. Soon due to his continual behavioral problems, which did relate to chicken at least one time. The Stainhows withdrew Jerry from military school, now sent him to live with some relatives down, excuse me, I was joking a little bit, live with Norma's parents in Ormond Beach, Florida, where Gerald attended junior high. It's not said in sources what life was like with Gerald there, but when the Stainhows came to get Gerald a couple months later, Norma's parents had already installed locks on their bedroom door.

So that's not good. You know, trying to keep him out. We've seen that move before with some other serial killers. The father of Richmond Virginia's murderous Brieley brothers, those terrifying sons of bitches. He put a padlock on his door when the boys were teenagers. Dude was afraid his own sons were gonna kill him in his sleep. 1967, the Stainos moved to Ambler, Pennsylvania possibly to give Jerry

a another fresh start. Things were not going well with Jerry at home. When they got back from retrieving 15 or 16 year old Gerald from Florida, their other son Arthur was popular, had good grades, well adjusted. He got so upset his brother was back he briefly ran away. His own brother feared or despised Jerry or both. In Pennsylvania, Norma and Eugene enrolled Jerry at Shady Grove School where his bad behavior continued. He frequently skipped classes, got in trouble often when he was in class,

got caught taking his dad's car for some joy rides, gotten some wrecks. One day he took some money from his father's wallet, bribed several members of the track team to finish behind him. So he could have a shot at first place. It's pretty funny and pretty weird. I never even crossed my mind to try and do something like that growing up.

Right? Probably never crossed most people's minds. That's a weird thing to do. I mean, if you're slow, you're slow. Your teammates might finish behind you in a race, you know, but your time is still going to suck. Like, you know, if you run the 100 yard dash in 30 seconds, you're still gonna suck no matter how many people you beat. But he did this anyway. And that got the attention of the principal who reported it back to the Stainos.

And while Norma and Eugene were fretting over this strange financial scheme, Gerald may have already been taking the next step in his crime career a really big nasty step. Before we take that big nasty step in our story today, time for the first of two mid-show sponsor breaks. And I'm back, and now let's head to 1969, when Jerry may have begun taking his rage to a whole new level. Stano may have started killing when he was 17 or 18 around 1969 based on confessions he made and conversations he had while in prison.

Several girls had gone missing in Stano's area of residence at the time, but insufficient physical evidence was found when these claims were investigated almost 20 years later and Stano was never charged. Still Stano admitted to committing his first murder in New Jersey in 1969. He also confessed to having killed six other women in Pennsylvania during the time that he attended the Maxwell Institute of Pennsylvania. Just something to keep in mind as we move forward. Whether he started killing or not, his parents enrolled him in the Maxwell Institute in 1969. Sounds like it was a vocational school. And he studied some early version of computer science.

Not sure if he graduated high school before enrolling or if it was in place of high school. He also got a job at the Chestnut Hill Hospital in 1969. And whatever he did there is not made explicitly clear in whatever it was in place of high school. He also got a job at the Chestnut Hill Hospital in 1969 and whatever he did there is not made explicitly clear and whatever it was, he didn't do it for long. He got fired pretty quick for stealing money from the pocketbooks of some female coworkers. Fucking Jerry! Around 1970 now, around the age of 19,

Jerry is living on his own. He gets a new job in the computer department at the University of Pennsylvania And it doesn't go well Because he doesn't know how to do the job at all He lied about his experience and training to get it Wasn't long before the truth was discovered and when they confronted him he lied again, and he was fired Oh, he's cracking up when people try and do that Just you know try and get some job. They have no fucking clue how to do it

Like how do you think that's gonna work out? I mean I guess it worked out for a previous suck subject the slave master John Edward Robinson He was able to lie his way into numerous jobs And then somehow actually stick around for a while even if he didn't know what he's doing But that is the exception to the rule so now Jerry's unemployed again also live in some crummy hotel He's moved out of his parents place then he gets thrown out of that hotel After he got caught stealing from some other guest rooms. Dude was always working some kind of angle.

His folks now let him come back rather than be homeless and he gets another job working for the Burroughs Corporation. A company that made various business equipment only to be fired again and quickly. Unclear for what? But he was called incorrigible by his manager. That track sounds about right. Perhaps his firing has something to do with the fact that he was now drinking heavily and dabbling in drugs. Sometime around this firing he also starts dating, grooming a girl named Yvonne, her age not listed but sources do say she was intellectually disabled and he ends up getting Yvonne

pregnant. Some sources say that he raped her and then apparently his parents pay for Yvonne to get an abortion. How many times have his parents talked to each other about wishing they would have never adopted him by this point? Do you wonder? I mean at least one of them, right? At least one of them was a little more on the fence than the other. Now they're having some serious regrets. They told us Norma. They fucking told us. He was unadoptable. I know Gene. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? If I knew then what I know now, yeah I would have tossed a little ass in the dumpster. He probably would have loved it. Could have just sat in there and feasted on his own shit. Maybe found some other kids diapers to snack on. Years later the only time Gerald would say anything about Yvonne was that he was when he

was describing his general attitude towards women in one of those letters to Kathy Kelly he wrote my relationships with women I can say was not exactly the best it was good up north because you have a different type of girl down south they think you got money to burn on them besides I was very picky at my girlfriends like Yvonne up in Pennsylvania if the young lady is a respectful type, no running around, I will take to her and treat her with respect. But if she is a tramp, she won't get any respect from me.

Oh, what a tired old tale. Before I say it, I was going to say, actually, he talks about being picky. I was very picky with my girlfriend. Were you? Or did women just not want to have anything to do with you? I'm going to guess it's that part. It's that one. I'm gonna guess that you creeped women the fuck out and they just didn't want to be your girlfriend

and then you in your fucking crazy mind are like, no, I was really picky. I'm just picky with who I date. Nope. No one wants to date you. Yeah, but this this fucking attitude, man, the guy who will grow up to chase woman after woman constantly, the guy who will pay woman after woman to have sex with them. Also the guy who dares to call women tramps if they've slept with numerous men. So much easier just to think of women who have slept with other dudes as being tramps than I guess to deal with whatever insecurities are leading you to reduce women to their body count or to examine what you know patriarchal brainwashing led you to toss around this double

standard like it's reasonable to do so. Shortly after he and respectable intellectually disabled Yvonne are through, Jerry takes the first of many trips back down to Florida before he ends up moving there. One trip he took was in March of 1973. He decided to visit his brother Arthur and Arthur's fiance. I'm sure they were thrilled over the moon to have him come down there. Hi the chickens everybody Jerry's coming

Shortly after he arrived on March 21st 1973 the bodies of Jeanine Marie legatino 19 years old and an arsenal 17 are discovered stabbed to death in a vacant lot in Gainesville, Florida The first two of 23 murders attributed definitively to Jerry even if he'll only be found guilty in court of nine. Both girls have been hitchhiking. According to Anne's mother, her 17-year-old daughter wanted to travel to Florida after she graduated a year early from John F. Kennedy High School in Silver Springs, Maryland. In February, she had driven down to the Florida Keys with several friends,

and after a couple of weeks, they were headed to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Sounds like a blast. Before heading home, she wanted to make one last stop in Florida, and that was where she met Janine, a 19-year-old from Clintondale, New York, who had left her hometown in early January and loved to do oil paintings of the landscapes surrounding her parents' apple farm. Anne had decided to stay for a little longer, and the two girls would sell flowers on the streets to earn some spending money to extend their trip.

On March 20, 1973, the two had been in a friend's home with their boyfriends, known as Buddy and Como Joe. Como Joe sounds like a character. They watched TV until about 10.30 when they decided to hitchhike back into town. When it started to rain, they accepted a ride from a man driving a blue Dodge Duster. Driving this vehicle, of course, was 21-year-old Gerald Stainano. Sources say that something in the ensuing conversation in the car convinced Jerry that the two girls were lesbians and that didn't sit right with him. So Stano lashed out killing them both. One of his tests of whether or not women

were lesbians was to ask them something real classy like, hey, you might suck on my dick for a little bit just till I come. And then if they're like, uh, hey, you might suck on my dick for a little bit, uh, just till I come. And then if they're like, excuse me, or, oh, gross, or no, go fuck yourself, pig. He was like, oh, got it. Didn't realize you were a lesbo. That feels accurate. Six months later, Jerry decided to take another vacation in Florida in September of 1973 to stay with a friend, Sammy Henderson, a 19-year-old who lived at Henderson's Imperial Beach Motel

on South Atlantic Avenue in Daytona Beach. Sammy's parents, June and Chuck Henderson, owned the hotel, and their son had gotten to know Gerald when they attended Seabreeze Junior High together years earlier. And before moving forward, let's meet another teenager, Barbara Bauer. And Sammy will show up later in this doc, by the way. Barbara, though. 1973, Barbara was 17, living in her two-story family home on Flagler Avenue in New Smyrna Beach, a laid-back artsy surf town nestled between Daytona Beach and Cape Canaveral. And real quick, why is it pronounced Smyrna? It's spelled S-M-Y-R-N-A, as in Smyrna.

Where's the suh sound come from? Fucking stupid American town names always keep me on my toes. Anyway, Barbara was a cheerleader popular on the honor roll. She and her twin brother Bert were inseparable except for on the afternoon of September 6, 1973. I feel so bad for both of them here now. When Barbara headed to Daytona Beach to pick out some fabric to make herself a new cheerleading uniform. The pretty teenager with long sunlight and brown hair drove her Plymouth duster out of

the garage solo. She was dressed casually for a shopping trip in typical Florida beach wear. She got cut off blue jeans, sandals, t-shirt wearing the bear on the logo, Ohio State. And then she left and never came home. Her mother Audrey became frantic after a few hours had passed and she phoned all of Barbara's friends in the days before cell phones, calling them on their landlines. They're confirming that Barbara had told them that she was planning to drive to Holly Hill Plaza in Daytona Beach at Nova Road and Mason Ave to a fabric shop there. Her mom then called the new

Samurna Beach Police Department and was told to consider the possibility that her daughter had run away, but Audrey Bauer said not a chance. Gritting her teeth, she waited the required 48 hours to file a missing persons report at the Volusia County Sheriff's Office on September 9th and then nothing turned up. And Audrey will not know what happened to her daughter until the following April. How much torment is that? Meanwhile, in December of 1973, Eugene and Norma decide that 22-year-old Jerry

will accompany Norma to go live in Florida while they care for Norma's sick mother. I'm sure your fucking gene was like, Sweet Jesus! Ah, getting rid of him. From this point on, Jerry will be a Floridian, which of course is terrible news for many young women living in Florida. On January 19th, 1974, shortly after Jerabare returned to the Sunshine State,

the dead body of a young woman is discovered, partially covered by palm fronds in a drainage ditch near Titusville, Florida. She had been stabbed numerous times all over her body. Her name was Kathy Sharpe and she was a 17 year old with long straight blonde hair and big blue eyes from Port Orange. She had gone to the anchor bar to party and dance as many kids around her age did and then she simply disappeared. A couple months later on April 10th 1974, seven months after Barbara Bauer disappeared,

there was a break in that case. At 1228 PM, Jimmy Greene, jailer and dispatcher on duty at the Bradford County Jail, received a call from Lily Browning, 59, who lived just east of South Road 100 near the town of Stark. Mrs. Browning stated that her husband, Clifford Browning, had found what appeared to be a human skull near their home, in a wooded area. Green then notified Chief Deputy Robert Green who in turn notified Sheriff Dolph Reddish. You don't come across many Dolphs anymore. My son Kyler is almost 19 now. Probably too late to change his name to Dolph isn't it? Which is a real bummer.

Back to the story I'm supposed to be telling now. 221 p.m. Mrs. Browning left her home with the officers, Dolph included, to show them the skull. The skull wasn't the only piece of human remains in the area. Dolph and his minions quickly discovered most of the remains of a full skeleton, scattered about in pieces. Two leg bones, a skull, finger bones, hip joint, vertebrae, and ribs, all have been buried under the dead branch of a crepe myrtle tree

and a scattering of pine needles. There was also a sandal, three rings, one locket and chain, a gold earring, a pair of shorts, and a shirt. It was clear that these remains had been there for a long time, weeks if not months. Dolph asked the Brownians if they had noticed anything suspicious. Mrs. Browning replied that before the dump nearby was closed, her and her husband would often hear music and yelling near the area where they found the skeleton. It was a popular party spot for teens. Mrs. Browning replied that before the dump nearby was closed, her and her husband would often hear music and yelling near the area where they found the skeleton. It was a popular party spot for teens. Mrs. Browning also recalled that during the season of winter collard green planting, she

and her husband had heard what sounded like screaming one night between 6 and 8 p.m. Don't hit me no more! The person screamed. Her husband came to the house from the field and also heard someone shout, don't do it anymore. Mr. Browning went to get his rifle to go see what was going on. But Mrs. Browning persuaded him to stay out of it. Come on, Lily. He's called the police in that situation.

Soon the skeleton will be identified as the remains of that poor 17 year old cheerleader Barbara Bauer based on the shirt and her distinctive jewelry. Authorities contacted her mother Audrey Bauer and based on the shirt and her distinctive jewelry. Authorities contacted her mother, Audrey Bauer, and requested she come to the town of Stark to identify other personal effects he believed belonged to her daughter. At this point, Mrs. Bauer seemed to remain unfazed by the exchange, apparently still stunned and disbelief. After all, her daughter Barbara had only driven across town to a shopping mall in the middle of the afternoon. How did she get so far away? What the hell happened to her? Stark was over a hundred miles from New Smyrna Beach.

I say it was, still is. When Audrey arrived at the Bradford County Sheriff's Office the following morning, she was shown several items recovered from the crime scene for purposes of identification. And investigators quickly realized that she was not going to believe for a minute the items could have belonged to her daughter,

even though they did. When Deputy Denton showed her the first item in earrings she simply blinked and replied stoically that she did not think that was Barbara's. Said she didn't recognize the ring either then she refused to believe that the locket with B engraved on it was Barbara's even though it's something that Barbara wore literally every day. This poor mother she just cannot accept it afraid the truth will break her I'm guessing such an awful truth to accept. I can't imagine how it would truly feel to be in her shoes in these moments. I hope I never can understand. Finally, she was shown Barbara's shirt. The shirt she was wearing

the day she disappeared. Ohio State. That was when Audrey did break down in tears. Her missing daughter Barbara was dead. Five months later on September 30th, 1974, patrolman Harmon Weldon of the Valdosta Police Department in Georgia called the Daytona Beach Police Department in Florida to report finding Barbara Bauer's vehicle abandoned behind the Azalea Motel at Interstate 75 and US 84. And sometime around now, 23-year-old Jerry, fucking Jerry, begins dating Teresa Esposito a 22 year old hairdresser and somehow things actually go well for a little while. Teresa must have been one of those respectful type girls right a lady who didn't engage in any running around. Her bike fucking spotless no dents no scratches no mud on the chain. Things will go so well, these two will soon decide to get married, setting a wedding date for June 21st, 1975.

Jerry's romantic bliss will not keep him from killing though. November 24th, 1974, a woman's decomposed body is found lying face down on an embankment about 50 feet behind the Interstate Mall in Altamont, Florida. It was determined she'd been killed in the same spot that her body was dumped. She'd been stabbed twice, possibly sexually assaulted, maybe not. Her underwear had been pulled down, her shirt had also been pulled up, but there were no clues to her identity and she would remain known as the Seminole County Jane Doe. In late 1974, 24-year-old Nancy Heard decided to move to the Sunshine State.

She was moving from North Carolina, leaving her husband Tom, a radar technician. They'd only been married two years. The two were having a trial separation. Maybe they'd keep the marriage going. Maybe they wouldn't. When she figured out that the marriage was not going to last, the perky 24-year-old Nancy took a job as a maid at the Mandarin Motel in Ormond Beach while she set up her plan. She decided to buy a bicycle to get to work and by plan it means like a new life plan.

And she got an actual bicycle. This is not some of my women's bicycle bullshit. But on January 2nd, 1975, she rode to work with her sister and left her bike at home. Her real bike, not her body. And on her break from work, she walked down the motel steps and then she disappeared. The next day, January 2, Charles Austin Hill IV reported finding the body of a white female to the Volusia County Sheriff's Office. He had been hunting by the dirt extension of Old Dixie Highway North of Buleau Creek Road near Tomoka State Park when he found the body underneath a power line. The deputies described the young woman as having light brown to blondish hair and wearing glasses, a blue denim jacket with red lining,

a light blue long sleeve sweater, bra, blue denim pants, light blue underwear, dark blue canvas shoes with red soles and gray socks. To the southeast of her body was a blue denim bag with red straps, approximately 18 inches away from her head. And there was a book of matches too from the Mandarin motel where she worked. After her body was taken to the Halifax District Hospital

for autopsy, reporting Deputy Sergeant Arthur Dees, and Investigator Cook proceeded to the Mandarin Motel with Polaroid pictures of the victim, whom the manager of the motel and two fellow maids identified as Nancy Hurt. Four months later, another young woman's dead body turns up. May 15th, 1975, 18-year-old Diana Valak had no way to get back from the strip club where she worked, Tampa's Sportsman Bar. The 18-year-old had decided to hitchhike. She was found four days later in

Land O'Lakes, a citrus grove north of State Road 54, half a mile east of Livingston Road. She had been shot to death. Strongly assuming that Jerry did not approve of her chosen 54, half a mile east of Livingston Road, she had been shot to death. Strongly assuming that Jerry did not approve of her chosen profession. Or at least that's how he rationalized killing her. That same month, Jer Bear, Gerald Stano, fucking Jerry, was still planning his wedding and dealing with some legal trouble not related to the women he had been killing. He had recently been arrested on charges of forging a check from his employer. The three-month minimum jail sentence would mean he would likely be incarcerated on his

wedding day. So on May 21st, one month exactly before the day of the planned nuptials, Teresa, his bride-to-be, put pen to paper to plead her fiance's case. She told circuit judge J. Robert Durden that she was, quote, looking forward to the most happy day in a girl's life, my wedding on June 21st. She added that because Jerry, quote, had involved himself in a most unfortunate situation, the plans for the wedding were in jeopardy. She wrote about the venues that had been reserved, invitations that had been sent, and Teresa

had been honored already at several bridal showers. Because of that, she was writing to him, quote, not only in your capacity as a judge, but also to you as a parent, to beg of you to make it possible for Gerald and me to marry as planned. His parents Norma and Eugene Stano also tried to persuade the judge to be lenient. They recounted the couple's plans for wedding as well as the future. They wrote, please don't send Gerald to jail. It will really set him back. We just now got him to stop twisting the heads off baby chickens last week.

And we're pretty sure he's not going to kill any more ladies around here. Not as long as our good girl keeps letting him race her bike, you know, take it off ramps, get rough with it down the ditch. If you show him mercy, he won't get worse. If not, well, well, that girl's as good as dead because she can never leave him. We already paid the fucking caterer. Uh, no, here's what they really wrote. We realize that justice must be served and then it will. However, would it not be served as well if not better if you could find the compassion in your heart to mitigate the sentence and to contribute to Gerald's rehabilitation by making it possible for

Gerald and Teresa to be able to follow through with their wedding plans on June 21st? I can't believe this works, but it does. Judge, uh, J. Robert Durden actually gives end all this. What he shouldn't have, oh, Bobbert. Gerald will use some of his time out of jail to target another girl, very young girl, Susan Basil, just 12 years old in the summer of 1975. Her mom, a pediatric nurse, had had two children a decade before she had Susan, and discovering she was pregnant again was a shock. She was a whoopsie, but a welcome one.

She retired to take care of Susan, who became, quote, everybody's baby, in her older brother Mike's words. Susan was getting off the school bus in Port Orange on Tuesday, June 10th when a man pulled up next to her, offered to take her to the skating rink. Susan, dressed in jeans, a blouse, carrying her backpack, agreed. Because she recognized Gerald. She had seen him before at the skating rink. She had seen him there before during quote, all skate songs. And once when she had broken her arm, he had helped her to the office where the owner's son-in-law took over.

Clearly, he had not forgotten about her that fucking creep. Instead of taking her to the skating rink, this day, Jerry takes a turn down Nova Road. Susan now demands to be let out. Jerry doesn't like that. He doesn't like being bossed around. This day, Jerry takes a turn down Nova Road. Susan now demands to be let out. Jerry doesn't like that. Doesn't like being bossed around. This is a rejection. He drives her out into the woods, strangles her, leaves her small body. She was just five foot nothing, 90 pounds, partially covered with some small tree branches. And her body will never be found. Stano, after his final arrest years later, will lead authorities to the place where he had left her body, but the

site had been built over by that point. Her case was baffling to investigators. Susan had vanished a quarter mile away from her home. None of her friends or her friends' parents knew where she was. When she didn't appear home by 5.30, her parents went to the police department to report her missing. The police, of course, floated the theory that she had run away. Taking the search into their own hands now, neighbors of the Basel family started to comb

through the woods near the Basel's home. A close friend of the family, the mother of Susan's best friend, Joy Bothwell, learned that another neighborhood resident, a young boy, had seen Susan as she walked towards her house. This witness was taken to the police station and questioned. He told police he'd seen Susan as she walked towards a 1975 dark blue Chevy van parked on the side of the road, and he gave a description of the vehicle and its occupants But he would be wrong Investigators assumed that the dark-haired girl was abducted by the occupants of the van Although they conceded that there was no evidence the girl had been forced into the vehicle Search of the woods didn't turn up any clues and without much else to go off the police put out a notice and a $5,000 reward for any information that led to Susan's whereabouts and her case then went cold

While Susan's parents waited becoming more inconsolable. I imagine with each passing day the stano epa zina wedding Oh that goes off on the 21st as planned. Oh, how lovely It was a strange ceremony Instead of cutting the wedding cake Jerry made everyone watch him twist the heads off several baby chickens, which I know are called chicks It's just creepier and funnier to me. I call them baby chickens. Actually I should have went with chicken babies. I think that's creepier. Imagine someone being like, hey a little fuzzy little yellow guys. What are those? Little chicken babies? Might be fun just refer to the young of

any species as babies. Oh man! Oh those are cute little dog babies I've ever seen. Oh adorable little dog babies. Oh check out that little cat baby. Anyway, just six days after Schiffer-Brenz gets married. Okay, I think we can call him that now. 16-year-old Linda Hamilton, the oldest of four children, leaves her home in Millbury, Massachusetts for the Sunshine State. Linda was a troubled girl.

She'd been assigned to a juvenile court counselor in Worcester, Massachusetts after she started frequently running away at age 13. Now she was doing it again. She packed lightly for her last trip. Her father told investigators that he believed she'd only taken her silver Timex watch with a wide leather band, a sleeping bag, and two bathing suits. A few days after leaving home during the first week of July, she met up with 17-year-old Scott Henney. They became traveling companions, eventually made it to Daytona Beach together. Once they arrived in town, they met up with some of Henney's friends and later shared a dwelling on North Oleander Avenue.

Henney and Linda were allowed to share the front part of the house. In Daytona, she soon met three other young men, spending some time at a vacation home in Flagler Beach. The registered renter of the property, Edward O'Leary, will tell investigators later that Linda had crashed at the condo at least several times. Shortly before nine in the morning, July 22nd, 1975, G.C. Bradshaw, a member of the police department in DeKalb County, Georgia, finds Linda's body. She wore pierced earrings and nothing else. Her nude body, heavily tanned from the sun

and buried in the outline of a two-piece bathing suit, lay along New Smyrna Beach, three-quarters of a mile south of Turtle Mound There were no immediate leads in her murder Meanwhile Mario Esposito Gerald's new father-in-law and given that fucking lunatic a job at a service station His service station obviously has a way to keep an eye on him while he's on probation Poor Mario. God, he couldn't he could not he must have been so not pumped to have this weirdo for a son-in-law. If he didn't hate Gerald already by the time he gave him a job, he would hate him soon afterwards. One day at work,

Gerald's brother-in-law swung at him according to Gerald, so Mario's son, and then Gerald came at him with the belt. Not sure who won the fight, guessing since Jerry never said that his brother-in-law ended up beating his ass. Then Jerry said he, quote, took his anger out on his wife Teresa and on Teresa's dog when he got home. A short time later he said he took his anger out on Teresa again in front of her aunt and uncle. Not sure exactly what he meant by taking his anger out. I'm assuming physical violence. Five years later Gerald will tell the psychiatrist Dr. F Carrera that Teresa had endured almost daily abuse from him. Again, doesn't specify if it's verbal, physical, both, psychological, whatever.

But he said it began about six months after they got married. He said he criticized Teresa's mom's smart mouth and his wife's laziness, saying that she left laundry in the washer while she watched soap operas with family at the house. Clearly mom doesn't like him, I'm sure deservedly, but that had to sting considering Jerry being abandoned by his own mom. Jerry said that as a need freak, he hated nothing more than sloppy housekeeping. Sounds like he should have got off his lazy ass and cleaned the house himself. And he's also frustrated with their sex life.

He says, Treese doesn't want to have sex with them. Basically, they had sex a week after they got married. Their honeymoon phase and then kind of sex just stopped. And fights over their sex life would occasionally lead to Jerry storming out of the house, sometimes saying, quote, I'm going downtown to look for a woman. Jesus. Just 13 months after they get married, Teresa's had enough.

She files for a dissolution of marriage and she gets it in July of 1976 and she gets everything she requested, which was most of the wedding gifts Jerry he's on his own again, and now he starts to really fill his time with excessive drinking about a full case of beer a week So 24 beers plus two more cases on the weekend So he's putting it back if we can trust his math here about 72 beers a week Which works out to just over 10 a day. It also begun smoking the devil's lettuce. Oh god I'm not not specified, but this is the 70s. So it's probably some weak ass weed compared to today.

Still he's drinking, he's smoking a bunch of weed, he's popping pills, he was taking unspecified downers. So probably barbiturates, a class of prescription central nervous system depressants. Not popular since the 1980s, but very popular in the 70s. But before all that, while his marriage is falling apart, he was, of course, continuing to kill. And I will share dates and details of Jerry's next horrible crimes right after today's second of two mid-show sponsor breaks. Thanks for listening to those sponsors.

Now let's see what Jerry Boy gets up to next. Nothing good. On December 17th, 1975, 21-year-old Emily Branch's strangled body is found floating in Spruce Spring Creek. From what investigators could determine, she had been murdered earlier that month, and there's not much else sadly we know about her. Just a few days later, the next body would show up. 24-year-old Susan Bickrest had moved to Florida from Ohio in November of 1975 fleeing her parents house.

And I don't want to be disrespectful, but her last name is just one letter off of Dickrest. Which I do feel compelled to acknowledge. Feeling cramped from sharing a room with her grandmother wanting to find work as a cosmetologist and just have a healthy amount of normal independence. She left for sunny Daytona Beach where she could only find work as a waitress when she first got there at a place called PJ's Lounge. But it wasn't the worst. She got five evening shifts a week, made enough money to set up a new life for herself, pay all of her bills. But then on December 20th, 1975, at approximately 4.45 p.m., two fishermen, Pete Rosen and Larry Gump, found her dead body floating in Spruce Creek, just south of Daytona Beach.

The body had long blonde hair, was clad in blue jeans a maroon jacket and platform shoes Deputies recovered it from the river transported to the Halifax Hospital morgue for autopsy medical examiner. Dr Arthur Schwartz noted that the victim had lacerations to the bridge of her nose the tip of her nose and around her nostrils Also noted a laceration to her lower lip and a minor laceration to the chin. She had been beaten, had a small abrasion beneath her left eye. He concluded that she had been strangled and placed in the water and she remained in the water for six to eight hours before her body was discovered. Susan might not have been dead when she was put in the water, only unconscious, but then she drowned.

Emma Bickrest, her mother, was not told about the manual strangulation initially, just that her daughter had drowned. A day later, she was told the horrible truth that her daughter had been murdered. Less than two months later, February 10, 1976, Bonnie Jean Hughes gets bludgeoned to death. The 34-year-old's dead body will be found the following day in Polk County, approximately 200 yards south of County Road 546, near the intersection of 546 and US Highway 27. Our 1974 brown and gold Cadillac sedan found just 50 feet from her body,

and that is all we know about her. We do know a bit more about one of Stano's next victims. Saturday, May 29th, 1976, Cheryl Ramona Neal was having a rough day. The 19-year-old, excuse me, from Forest Park, Georgia, who went by her middle name of Ramona Neal was having a rough day. The 19 year old, excuse me, from Forest Park, Georgia, who went by her middle name of Ramona, had come to Daytona Beach to have a great time, to celebrate her high school graduation

with a bunch of friends, with her boyfriend, but the weekend quickly turned sour, because on Saturday afternoon, she walked into her boyfriend William Meadow's room, which I assume was also her room, at the Holiday Inn Boardwalk, and found that four girls were partying in bikinis in his room with him. Understandably she doesn't love that. After she I imagine told him to go

fuck himself or shared similar sentiments, Ramona stormed out clad in only a blue bikini with white polka dots and a beach blanket. She had $77 on her enough to drum up some fun. She headed towards the picnic area on Ocean Ave around 3 p.m. Then was seen by two other people in that area at 6 and 8 p.m. Just hanging out with some other people. Someone then saw her on the elevator at the Holiday Inn Boardwalk later that evening. But Ramona didn't show up to meet her friends to do some partying later that night. And the 15 seniors from Forest Park High, who traveled there with her, were now very

worried. An officer was dispatched to the Mayan Inn where Ramona was staying with the two young women or with two other young women in room 601 at 1030 PM. Two days later, Monday, May 31, a distraught Jack Neal, Ramona's dad, now arrives in Daytona Beach to help look for him. He told the police all about his daughter, including how she had a twin brother, Ray Neal, who was stationed with the U.S. Marines in San Diego currently.

The Neal twins were babies number seven and eight for their parents Juanita and Jack. They grew up in a large, loving Christian family. The nine Neal children crowded into a three-bedroom home. The dad worked, mom stayed home, looked after all the kids. Jack told the police that Ramona grew up to be a normal teen who liked to sew, did well in school, and loved her boyfriend.

She'd never dated any other boy, and he had never dated any other girl. Sounds like he was about to though. In other words though, she was not the type to run away. Next day, Jack returned to the police station inquiring if there were any further information as to the whereabouts of his daughter and there wasn't. Four days later on Friday June 4th, a sergeant with the Forest Park Police Department contacted three of Ramona Neal's friends. The girls relayed how she had fought with her boyfriend William and one girl mentioned that she had seen Ramona arguing with

William McKinn that night so officers wondered maybe this guy knows more than he'd let on. Now he's a suspect. They interview William who categorically denied having anything to do with his girlfriend's disappearance and he provided the police with 32 names and telephone numbers of people who could verify his whereabouts that weekend. Now the authorities are left wondering if it it's not William, who the hell is it? What happened to Ramona? Well, the answer to that second question won't come until June 15th.

That day, Kenneth Corden, a local student, was traveling along Old Dixie Highway when his motorcycle ran out of gas. He started to push it down the road until he got to a gas station, but then he stopped approximately 4 tenths of a mile north on National Gardens Road in Old Dixie Highway. There, Gordon noticed something in a ditch on the west side of the road. He believed it to be a dead animal until he inspected it more closely, found that it appeared

to be the dead body of a young woman. He quickly pushed his motorcycle then to the Texaco station on Interstate 95 and US 1 and notified the Sheriff's Office. And Deputy Sergeant, we've heard of this guy, he's been introduced once before, Arthur Dees called to the scene. Before I say anything else, I hope that Arthur later married a woman with the last name of Nutz and that they had kids. Just beautiful kids who took on a hyphenated name of Dees Nutz. Sorry, my inner 12 year old feels compelled to announce stupid shit sometimes. Deputy Sergeant Arthur Dees, not Nutz, arrives, finds the body of a young white woman lying approximately 10 to 15 feet down the embankment.

Someone had haphazardly covered her body with sticks, leaves, and twigs. By 8 p.m. on June 16th, medical records, as well as dental charts, had arrived from Forest Park. There was no doubt the body was that of Cheryl Ramona Neal. Three days later, a thorough ground search is conducted in the area, the area where Ramona was found. Members of the Halifax Fire Department assisted in the area, the area where Ramona was found. Members of the Halifax Fire Department assisted in combing the remote area for clues as to who the killer was, and they found one, but only one. Shoveling the area, a slug was recovered. It was encrusted, appeared to be from a.38 or.45 caliber weapon.

No more bodies, later attributed to Gerald Sano, will turn up the rest of 1976. Maybe he was too depressed about his marriage falling apart, go looking for more victims. Maybe he took up chicken farming for a while, found a different outlet for his rage. Whatever it was, he wouldn't kill again until the spring of 1977 that we know of. Or he wouldn't kill again in the spring of 1977 that we know of, or that summer. Too busy drinking beer, drinking, beer? He's drinking some beer, you know. No, he's drinking beer, smoking weed, popping downers. If only he would have drank more, smoked more, popped more pills. No one else would have had to die. By the early fall of 1977, he's definitely back at it

if he wasn't already. Gale Foster, an 18 year old exotic dancer, disappears while hitchhiking on September 26th. The second 18 year old exotic dancer. God dang. Just a kid. And if you're 18 you might be thinking, no I'm not a kid. I get it. I remember those days. But if you make it to my age I'm 47 now. You will think 18 is still being a kid. Two days later her body found in a grove near Old Pascoe Road west of Interstate 75. Then just a couple weeks later a motel desk clerk named Emily Grieve, 38, killed while hitchhiking October 10th, 1977. Her body dumped off State Road 54, west of Curley Road.

And a month after that, in November of 1977, another young woman goes missing. He is really back at it. Her name was Mary Kathleen, went by Katie, so Katie Muldoon, 23-year-old student at Daytona Beach Community College. She's working at a restaurant slash bar to pay for woodworking classes she was taking. She loved woodworking, loved it so much she named her golden retriever puppy Cedar. And she was excited to get her degree, get a better job, attain a kind of security she had never had

in her youth, in which she was in and out of a series of foster homes after her parents both died so sad. A school in Queens gave her a ride to a restaurant or to the restaurant she worked at November 11th, 1977. And then soon after she left work that evening, her lifeless body would be found in a water-filled ditch along US 1 at New Smyrna Beach. She had been beaten, shot in a right temple with a small caliber weapon and drowned. February 17th, 1980 now Sergeant Paul Crowe, future Daytona Beach Chief of Police, gets a call to come in on his day off and Sergeant Crowe is a fucking badass. He is

the guy who will eventually be most responsible for not only getting this clown off of the street but also getting him to confess to enough shit to end up in the electric chair. So hail Paul Crowe! He first joins a case at Catch and Stano when the body of a young woman had been found laying off of Bellevue Avenue in a black striped long-sleeved silk shirt and blue jeans on, as I mentioned, February 17th, 1980. She had been stabbed to death. Her killer had deliberately covered her body with branches after placing the corpse on the ground. Among other things, she had been stabbed in the thigh, a detail that would later turn out to be really important.

Soon Crowe will discover her name, Mary Carol Mather, age 20. She had been missing since January 27th. Her mom had dropped her off at the Holiday Inboard Walk on North Atlantic Avenue, Daytona Beach's entertainment area, and Mary Carol had tried to convince her to come up and say hi. But Jerry, Mary Carol's mom, had to be up early the next morning and declined. Oh my God, the fucking guilt she must have felt, even though it was not her fault. So Mary Carroll went up by herself to the lounge at the top of the hotel,

which was a very popular hangout spot. She had no worries about getting home. She was planning to get a ride with a friend when she was ready to go. She was at the bar for a while talking animately or animatedly, animatedly? Oh my god. Talking excitedly. Let's go with that word to friends. Pretty blonde, incredibly fit. Mary Carol spent most of her time with the gym and the swimming pool. She'd been a championship swimmer actually at Mainland High School and was now attending Daytona Beach Community College. But the friends she had planned to meet, some of them didn't show up that she was going to like stay and drink a little longer with.

Some employees of the hotel thought they'd seen her get into the elevator with a Hispanic man and then she just disappeared. And nobody knew what had happened to her between then and when she was found gently blanketed by some branches. Just one day after Mary Carol was found, a man named Bobby Jackson came into the Daytona Beach Police Department and reported that his 28-year-old girlfriend, Toni Van Haddix, was now missing. He had dropped her off at the 7-Eleven at North Ridgewood Ave at approximately nine at night, February 15th, hadn't heard from her since,

which was extremely odd. They had been together for six years and she had never disappeared like that before. Toni was a sex worker. She would occasionally take John's to an area of Hazel Street by some railroad tracks, but there was no sign of her there. Bobby was extra worried because Tony had recently broken her arm and it was in a cast. She would have been helpless to fight anyone off who wanted to hurt her.

A little over a month later, Tony's still missing. Her body won't be found for almost another month. March 25, 1980, another victim. Before we find Tony. This dude preyed on so many women. 24-year-old Donna Marie Hensley strolling along Daytona Beach's Ocean Ave, which ran parallel to the Atlantic Ocean. During the day, the area seemed merely to be an extension of the nearby boardwalk, a place for tourists to wander around, watching the small pleasure boats and sleek yachts passing by. But most tourists fled for the boardwalk at night, enjoying the cotton candy games and towering ferris wheel there and that left Ocean

Avenue open for some other stuff got a little shadier cars began to drive by slowly men inside them looking for women or drugs or both there were plenty of homeless people drawn in by Florida's comparably warmer winters and the East Coast and other areas and because so many were living life on the knife edge, crime was abundant per snatching, car break-ins mostly. Also a lot of drug use, drug sales, sex workers. Combating these crimes was a good sized task force of undercover cops that would patrol the beaches,

but even the cops found themselves outnumbered during spring break. During those few weeks in March, the beaches and avenues would become overloaded with young people drinking, flirting, organizing wet t-shirt contests, blasting music from portable speakers. Keeping the college kids safe was undoubtedly what was on the cops' minds on the night of March 25th.

And not someone like Donna Marie Hensley. She was high that night on Disco Biscuits, street name for Quaaludes, a brand of anti-anxiety hypnotic sedatives that really relax you, give you a calm feeling lower your inhibitions Not a care in the world when you're on disco biscuits never taking them But apparently you just kind of feel this lethargic kind of numb bliss and the buzz helped deal dull the pain of Donna's fringe existence Climbing into strangers cars for money hoping they didn't see or didn't care about you know know, her face which been ravaged by drugs. She'd been working the streets for years, looked a lot older than her age of 24. That night she spotted a small red car that she'd seen before, a little AMC Gremlin hatchback. Tag on the front said

no rides except blondes, brunettes, and redheads. Oh Jerry, you card you. The driver rolled down the window, slowed right down, slowed, you know, right next to Donna, calling out, are you working tonight? Despite her high, Donna was careful. She knew that undercover cops often dress casually, trying to blend in with faded blue jeans, nondescript shirts. She'd been busted before.

But the driver was wearing a brightly patterned polyester shirt and a white belt, disco clothes. Clothes a cop wouldn't normally be caught dead in. She also remembered that her friend Cheryl had seen a guy fitting this description around the night before cruising Main Street. She replied that she was not working just out for a walk. The man smiled, offered her a ride. When she got in she noticed that everything was clean. No beer cans, no overflowing ashtrays. After chatting for a couple minutes, he asked abruptly, how much to get laid? And she replied abruptly, 20 bucks. Donna directed him to pull into a motel parking lot, the motel painted garishly purple and with a flickering neon sign

was where she lived in room four. She peeled off her jeans and t-shirt and the man undressed as well. The sex was quick and she noticed he was sweating even though the room was chilly. He handed her a $20 bill and then there was a tense silence as they both got dressed. And then out of fucking nowhere, he explodes into a rage, screaming,

I hate hookers! They're the scum of the earth! Then he said a bunch of other cruel shit after that. His shouting became more and more intense as he gets more and more worked up, his breath coming in short gasps. The kid who used to throw tantrums when everything wasn't just so, still at it. Still had a script in mind, apparently, for how everything was supposed to work. Right? That evening, Donna must have went off book. She was probably supposed to tell him he was such an amazing lover. She didn't want his money, you know, or something like that. And Jerry's not

having it. Methodically he begins to ransack the tiny hotel room, pulling out dresser drawers, throwing her clothes all around the floor, just dumping everything off of, you know, tables. Donna's getting scared. And then she really gets scared when all of a sudden she watched him put on a pair of gloves you know what the fuck is he planning on doing to her grunting he moves towards her then he lunges forward shoves her to the floor he screams you're gonna get it now I guess his voice was strangely high pitched when he did I don't know I don't know exactly what I wish I could go higher he then grabbed her can opener, started slashing. My god, with a fucking can opener.

She fumbled to get out of his way. He missed with his first few swings, then he found his mark. After scratching her arms and her breasts, he stabs her five or six times in the right thigh, damn, with a later report, excuse me, saying she had been hurt with a can opener and a knife. In the mayhem of the attack, excuse me, he may have dropped the can opener, pulled out a knife. He also would attack without her shit laying on the floor of her unit. After stabbing her several times, she shouted that he was taking his money back and then he rifles through her purse. He grabs not only his 20, but also takes 30 bucks she had made from a previous job. A piece of shit.

Then he walked into the tiny kitchenette, returned with a gallon of A piece of shit. Then he walked into the tiny kitchenette, returned with a gallon of muriatic acid, a chemical so strong it ate away oil stains and concrete. Why did Donna have that? Who knows? But she did. And now as he lumbers back, he splashes the liquid around as though he is planning to set her on fire.

But he won't get the chance. Fighter flight kicks in and Donna flies. Screaming, blood running down her leg, she runs runs out of the unit makes it to the manager's office Where she tells the clerk on duty call the ambulance and the police by the time the cops the ambulance show up the psycho in Her room is gone Officer Sue Cunningham tries to calm Donna down accompany her to the hospital now to take her statement before heading back to the records Bureau to file Donna's paperwork Donna's name is put down as a complainant on an AMB knife report

short in term for assault and battery with a knife. Her complaint becomes case number 80-3-10349 and it describes how her attacker had used a can opener, a nail file, a knife with a black handle, and scissors to attack her. Damn! Case file would end up on the desk of Detective Jim Gadbury, a serious deeply religious man who would leave the department a couple years later to become a youth minister, then come back to the department after becoming disenchanted with organized religion. Gadbury knew he had to depend on who he called street people to get info, and soon he finds somebody who knows where the driver of that red car lived. The detective then goes to the apartment complex and though the manager reports he doesn't know off the top of his head exactly where the guy lives, he knows who he is.

Gerald Staino. Fucking Jerry! Armed with Gerald Staino's name, Gadbear uses a crime computer, some rudimentary compared to now computer they had at the time, to check the suspect's driver's license and the cop learns that the red gremlin was indeed Registered to him stay no it seemed was a very familiar figure to sex workers in the area Especially those in the in the area of the beach Detective then proceeded to interview some of them who told him unequivocally The Gerald Staino was a fucking weirdo They had some serious anger issues

for example He had picked up Sandra Washington a 20 year old sex worker, a couple weeks earlier. And after they had sex in his car, he flew into a rage. Started hitting her with his fists. She was able to bounce the hell out of his car. And then after she runs a little while, she looks back and he's aiming a gun at her, but doesn't fire. Another sex worker, a woman named Kim, remembered him as a quote, nutcase, a wacko, who had

boiled with rage after sex and tried to choke her Gadbury starting to think this asshole is guilty of a lot more than this assault Then maybe he had something to do with some of the unsolved murders of young women in the area He also learned as he looked further into staying know that he had a previous arrest record for writing bad checks Which meant they had his picture on file So he gets the picture the round-faced man in thick glasses, covered in chicken baby blood, JK, match the description given by the young woman, women, who had been unfortunate to cross his path recently. Gadbury now set about putting together a photo lineup looking to get this guy arrested

for numerous assaults. Dono will be the first to identify Stano and that was enough to get circuit judge Michael Hutchinson to charge Gerald Stano with aggravated assault. And isn't that the name of the former NXS singer? I think so. But obviously not him. Stano would be arrested on April 1st, 1980, April Fool's Day. How fitting for that shit for brains. After obtaining the warrant, Gadbury heads across town to the restaurant where Stano

worked as a short order cook. Gadbury eased his unmarked car into the parking lot, spotted the red gremlin, confirmation that Stano was working there that day. Inside, Gadbury passes a huge steaming pressure cooker on his way to the counter, where Stano stands wearing a white apron. When Jerry sees him, he immediately looks nervous and says, It's about those chicken babies, isn't it? I mean, does it really matter how you kill them as long as you eat them? No, he didn't say shoot out the rip.

Gadbury informed Sano that he had a warrant for his arrest for aggravated assault of Donna Marie Hensley. As Gadbury cuffed him, Sano muttered that he didn't know what the detective was talking about. He said, quote, he didn't even know, I didn't even know that broad. Excuse me, he didn't even know that broad. Back at the police station sergeant paul crow sits in his tiny cubicle of an office with no windows he had been alerted that morning that there was a possible suspect in the february 17th murder unsolved murder he was looking to he's eager to talk to him once stano was settled into the interrogation room paul crow and gadbury went in and talked to him jerald i want you to to meet Sergeant Crowe, Gadbury said. Stano extended his hand, shook Crowe's,

then moved to a seat behind the small desk. Gadbury and Crowe followed suit, sitting in the other two chairs facing Stano behind the desk. Today's my birthday, Stano blurted out suddenly, prompting Gadbury to look up quickly from the police. From the police reports he'd been thumbing through. What do you mean, Asked Gadbury.

Because he knew Stano's date of birth on his driver's license was September 12, 1951. Today's the day they got me! Stano said next. I'm not sure what you're saying. Gadbury countered. Today's the day my adoption was final so I kind of think it was my birthday. Stano now said. How weird is this?

He's just blurting out this stuff out. He really was a whack job. Imagine being arrested. How... how weird is this? He's just blurting out this stuff out. He really was a whack job. Imagine being arrested. Right before they start interrogating you for just whatever. You just put it on. Today's my birthday! I mean that's weird even if it is your birthday. What do you think the detectives are going to say to that?

Oh no shit! Oh how dynamite... Hey everybody! It's his birthday now! Today! Yeah it's his birthday! Stay right where you are buddy. I'm going to go grab a cake, some candles, some dynamite. Hey everybody. It's his birthday now. It's today. Yeah, it's his birthday. Stay right where you are buddy I'm gonna go grab a cake some candles some party hats. Oh, we're gonna do right by you my friend my birthday, buddy Oh big boy Way weirder if it's not your birthday Dave my birthday. No, it's not bud. We got your birthday right here. Not my literal birthday But it's what I wish my birthday was, so that's pretty special.

It's my wish birthday! Okay, Weirdo, how about you let us direct the conversation going forward, okay? Sergeant Crowe did not mock Jerry for saying his dumb shit. He was better than that. He said, what an interesting coincidence. My son was adopted as well. And immediately after he says that, Stano seems to really warm up to him. Noice! He sits forward in his chair staring intently at the sergeant, not like a deranged weirdo at all.

And then he asks Crowe next, Hey, did you know your mustache is crooked? That's literally what he says next. And then he points to a bristly row of white hair on the detective's upper lip and says, You should get that evened up. Jerry was so fucking weird. Why was he telling the detective investigating him that and says, you should get that evened up. Jerry was so fucking weird. Why was he telling the detective, investigating him, that his mustache is messed up?

Probably because his brain didn't work right. Gadbury now led them back to the subject at hand, a girl who had disappeared. He was careful to ask Tano if he knew anything about her, leaving out the fact that she was dead. Crowe too, old pro at interviewing, and he was damn good at it. He'd been among a small group of law enforcement officials

invited to a profiling seminar at Quantico a couple of years back. There he learned techniques from profiling pioneers, FBI special agents, John Douglas and Robert Ressler. We've talked about them in several episodes. Stano immediately identified a picture of, and of course this is not the woman. He had just stabbed and tried to kill her in her motel room because she is not missing her dead. But 20 year old murder victim Mary Carol Mather, who went missing just over two months earlier, January 27th, whose body was found three weeks later, February 17th.

The former championship swimmer at Mainland High School, right? She was attending Daytona Beach Community College. The pretty fit blonde who spent most of her time at the gym and in the pool. The young woman whose mom had dropped her off for the holiday and boardwalk on North Atlantic Ave to meet friends for drinks. And Jerry says he had picked up Mary Carol once. Crow asked him to elaborate. Does that mean he gave her a ride? Yeah, he said on January 27th, the very day she went missing. They did not tell him that. He said she had been walking on Atlantic

Avenue, quote, real late, as though to imply she was part of the seedy underworld. Then he said he took her across Seabreech Bridge over to Mason Avenue. Then he said they went to the Pantry Pride on Mason, got some six pack of beer because she wanted a beer. He made a point to say that. No, not this good boy who always goes peeping the potty, Jerry, uh-uh, no sir.

After that, he said she wanted to get out, so he just let her. And Uh-uh, no sir. After that he said she wanted to get out so he just let her and that was that my friend. He was just a dude who liked to pick up some ladies, buy him some beer and then be like enjoy your flamented beverages and stay safe my lady. I must now bid you adieu. Totally such a gentleman. Crow now pressed him. Was that really true? Why did she want to get out? Did she have some kind of argument with you? true? Why did she want to get out? Did she have some kind of argument with you? Did Stano maybe want to have sex with her and she didn't want to?

Yeah, Stano replied down like a moron. And then he added, she started bitching, bitching real bad. Then he confessed, he like maybe hit her. Maybe kind of hard. They were still in the car, he said, and then he reached under the seat and got out his knife and he quote, let her have it. He stabbed her over and over, both from the front and the back, which he twisted away to try and get out, and he said she mumbled something and then made a gurgling sound. And he's saying all this, by the way, as if they're gonna let him

go after hearing it. As if it is a totally normal legal thing to do. When you get into disagreement with a woman you've just met, you're allowed to end it by stabbing the fuck out of her. As the detectives appeared to agree with Stano's actions, telling him that Mary Carroll, yeah she could be a real bitch. Stano felt emboldened to tell more. He's loving the attention. He's loving the camaraderie with good adoptive dad, Paul Crowe, just seven years of senior. The older brother, he probably wishes he had. Chatting like he and Paul are the best of buds. They're friends to the end. It's just him and his buddy. I picture Jerry inserting he and Paul into that old My Buddy doll commercial. They're

swinging each other around out in the sun. Nothing but smiles and laughs and hugs and high fives. Yeah, she was a bitch. Yeah, women, am I right? Jerry now describes how he stabbed Mary Carol in the thigh. Hooking her with the knife and pulling her back towards him when she attempted to get out and then stabbing her in the back multiple times and this was just what Crow was looking for. A specific reference to the thigh injury. It had been a closely guarded secret from the press and everybody else that Mary Carroll's femur bone had been stabbed so hard when she was killed it was actually broken. So this is some serious rage. Now they know for sure that this guy, not some nut job pretender,

some fake confessor as Jerry's been accused of being by some people. He was nuts, yes, but he was also their guy. And he was not just their guy for assault, but for murder, at least one murder. Crowe immediately stops the interview, arranges to take Stano to the area where he had said he had previously dumped Mary Carroll's body. At the site, the correct site, where her body was found, Stano described how he had posed her, which was also correct. Staring at where he had left the young woman's dead body, he now shed some tears. It would be the only time Sergeant Crowe will ever see him cry. Crowe will later think he shed those tears,

not for her, but for himself, when he realized, fuck, it's all over for me. I'm never going to walk free again. When they then returned to the police station, Stano signed a full confession. And a Volusia County grand jury will indict him for the first time on a first degree murder charge later that month, but that of course, not nearly the end of the investigation into him. As Crowe is finishing up his paperwork, Detective Larry Lewis now approaches and asks whether Stano had confessed to any other crimes. Crowe said he hadn't. What did Detective Lewis have in mind? Well, Lewis said, I have over 10,000 unsolved dead chicken baby cases. No, the disappearance of Tony Van Haden. Tony was a 28 year old woman

and sex worker whose boyfriend reported her missing after dropping her off at a 7-eleven just a little over a month earlier back on February 28th. The woman with the broken arm in the cast. Crowe agreed, took a photo of Tony into the interrogation room, placed it in front of Stano. As soon as he looked at the photo he practically recoiled. Jerry leaned back said he'd never met her. Crow immediately could tell he was lying his ass off. He believed that in all likelihood he had killed her. Stano was not a one-and-done murderer. Now he thinks it's very possible that many other women had met their ends when they met Gerald

Stano. Not having any evidence connecting Jerry to Tony at the moment, Crow drops that line in questioning and he leaves to begin combing through records of other murdered women while Stano is put in county jail. Meanwhile, just over two weeks after Stano's arrest on April 15th, 1980, little boy named Brian Wolf is walking on the grounds, walking on the ground close to his home in Holly Hill, a suburb of Daytona Beach, when he finds a decomposed cranium in a wooded area. The area is covered with pine trees, palm metal bushes. The kid took the skull home in a bag as kids are want to do with skulls and his parents immediately notify the police.

And I was joking there, but actually if I was a little boy out wandering around and found a human skull in the woods, oh, hundred percent bringing it home I probably would have convinced myself that the skull was some uh, like a like a skull of an ancient important warrior And possessing it would somehow give me magical powers or some shit. Not even kidding. I was a very weird kid I had what my mom liked to refer to as an overactive imagination From April 16th to April 22nd personnel from the Sheriff's Office, old Dolph maybe, and the Florida Department of Law Enforcement now conduct a search of about nine acres in the area where the boy found the skull, and they recover more bones. Most of them were completely skeletonized, but parts have been protected by clothing such as a pair of woman's

pants, underpants that were also recovered from the scene, and these parts were still in the process of decomposition. These were mainly the pelvis including the sacrum and the articulated thoracic and lumbar vertebrae with many ribs, ligaments, other soft tissue was present. The examiners identified the victim as a black female, aged 26-ish, about 5'5". Skull showed extensive damage and attack perforated with extreme savagery. She'd received numerous cuts to her head and face. And soon the victim's identity was revealed as being Tony Van Hattick's. The woman with the broken arm whose boyfriend was worried about her.

And now Sergeant Crowe returns to talk to Jerry Bear. Fucking Jerry! In the interrogation room. Stano initially denies killing the young woman while talking to his good good buddy Paul Let's go play outside What Paul you like your guy here, but As the hours passed he begins to break finally he says you know what okay, all right I Think I do kind of remember her. Okay. Okay. I think she was like maybe the sex were I don't know And then and then as he talked more he remembers, you know, okay. All right one time

I I did invite her you got me to get to get in my car. Okay I just wanted to buy her some beer, you know, then let her go after you know sharing some laughs and Then they keep talking and then he's like, okay. all right now, all right now that I really think about it Yeah, I did pay her $30 to fuck and she did agree to do that And you know what and I think more about it we did drive to an isolated area and we did have sex and then gosh dang it I didn't have any cash on me and And made a point to tell her that Sano now tells Crowe that he never planned to give her the money

Instead he reached under a seat, grabbed a knife, stabbed her repeatedly before dumping off her body then proceeding down Wild Rose Avenue. And then this maniac said he thought about stopping by his brother Arthur's house nearby directly following the killing. Like maybe when he still had some blood on him and stuff. And later he will admit to taking Tony to that area specifically because his brother lived nearby. He said he wanted to get back at his brother by quote, doing it over there. What? There's so much wrong with this dude's brain. How exactly did he think that having sex with and then killing this woman near like in the vicinity

of his brother's home will be getting back at his brother Arthur? Just ha ha ha ha. Oh, gotcha bro. What? What are you talking about now, Jerry? You don't even know. I got you so good. What? Seriously, what are you talking about, Jerry? Stop being so weird again.

Look out there, bro. How dare you go out there, go out there in them woods. Oh, you'll see. You'll find out how I fucking got you. Payback bitch. Okay. Good talk, Jerry. Oh, you'll see you'll find out how I fucking got you payback bitch Okay, good talk chair. You know what stay right where you are. I'm gonna head inside the house. I'm gonna lock the door You're gonna get the fuck off my lawn or I'm gonna call the police you fucking freak. I hate you Present with Jerry's confession of Volusia County Grand Jury will indict Stano again on another first first degree murder charge for Van Hattick's death in August. Another charge punishable by life in prison without the possibility of parole or the death penalty.

Little over two months later November 5th 1980 another body is found this time near I-95. Nearly complete set of human bones is uncovered some of the bones still have skin on them near the areas of the shoulder back and legs. Found approximately 10 feet away are a green pair of slip-on clog type shoes. Later found in the same general vicinity, red shorts with blue trim, possibly jogging type shorts with a stretch waistband, red t-shirt with an iron-on patch on the front featuring a picture of a matador, a bull, and the inscription, do it in the dirt. On the bottom left-hand corner of the t-shirt are the words rats hole copyright 1974. The medical office estimates the body to have been that of a white female

approximately five feet seven, 25 to 30 years of age, though later analysis by the University of Florida anthropology lab will say that she was no older than 19. So who was she? Some investigators think she was Sheila DeKiller, a hitchhiker who had been seen having sustained a bad beating, but she turned out to have survived. Others thought it was Lori M. McCoon, but she turned out to be alive and well in California. So bit of good news there. Two missing women, presumed dead, actually found later to be alive.

Uh, just this past year, March of 2024, the remains were finally identified as belonging to a 25-year-old Indiana native named Pamela K. Whitman. Jumping ahead four months now, March 6, 1981, Gerald Stano will finally spill the beans about more murders, confessing to a whopping four. Nancy Heard, Linda Hamilton, Ramona Neal, and Pamela K. Whitman. Though they didn't know that that was her name yet, of course. First one he confessed to was Nancy Heard, the 24-year-old woman from North Carolina who had gotten a job as a maid at the Mandarin Motel in Ormond Beach. The woman whose sister had dropped her off at work, and then she tried walking home after her shift because she didn't have her bicycle, which she normally rode.

In his written statement, Jerry would write, I remember taking a girl up there with me, Bulo Creek, with a blue purse trimmed in brown and light colored clothes. During our travel we got into an argument and I hit her in the head with the back of my hand. She said she wanted to go back to the beach and I said shut up bitch and I hit her again. We then stopped along some little path and I began to move towards her and she was nervous. Then I put my hands up to her and I strangled her. Just fucking cold. Arm with Staino's written statement penned by such a cold-blooded fucking dude who just casually could write about choking a woman to death with zero emotion, Sergeant Paul

Crowe interviewed Gerald again at the Daytona Beach Police Department March 12, 1981. During this conversation with his new BFF, Jerry described how he had run into Nancy outside of the Mandarin motel somehow he convinced her to go with him or forced her and Stano brought her to an area near old Dixie highway an area of or near old Dixie highway called excuse me Cobb's Corner said he choked Nancy to death because she reminded him of his future wife remind him I guess of his not future wife why did I say that of his future wife. Remind him, I guess, of his, not future wife, why did I say that, of his wife, previous wife. Quote, bitching, bitching, bitching.

And that was all he had to say about her. Crow then steered the conversation towards other murders, like that of Linda Hamilton. And yes, it is that Linda Hamilton, the actress who played Sarah Connor in The Terminator, Jerry killed any hope for a future rebellion against Skynet. No, of course not that Linda Hamilton. This poor Linda, the 16-year-old who ran away from home in Massachusetts, made it to Florida shortly after Jerry got married in the summer of 1975. Once again, Sano confesses, saying he had picked her up after they smoked a little bit of weed together and then she got upset with him when he tried to make a romantic move on her, so he

strangles her. Then he drags her naked to the beach where he buried her two feet down in the sand. Again, relays all this with no emotion. Well, no emotion other than contempt and anger towards his victim, right? Another bitch who got what was coming to her in his mind. Now Crowe asks Jerry about the human remains of the white female who'd been found on I-95 in November of 1980. The unknown woman wearing the do it In The Dirt t-shirt. The woman just finally identified this year as being 25-year-old Indiana native Pamela K. Whitman. Stano tells Crowe that he thinks he remembers her.

He said that about two years prior he'd picked up a white female on Main Street in Daytona Beach during the annual bike week invasion that occurred each March when both permanent and interim... Oh my gosh. both permanent and interim oh my gosh both permanent and temporary another word I'm just like my brains like nope itinerant I think but anyway temporary vendors lying the beachside street selling souvenirs to the thousands of black jacketed bikers who descend upon the city Crow then asked him if he remembered where he had picked her up

staying and referred to a bar on Main Street called Blackbeards. The year was 1978 or 1979. He added, and it was past nine o'clock at night when he ran into her and invited her into his car. According to him, she got into the car willingly. Despite it happening years ago, Stano remembered everything, including the logo on her shirt that said, Do It In The Dirt. Very specific thing to remember, of course. Stano claimed that they talked about her having sex with him for money money and that insulted that she would only have sex with him if he paid

her. He choked her to death. Even though this was a confession, Paul Crowe still worried they wouldn't get a conviction for this murder due to the body's decomposition and lack of fingerprints, another hard evidence of this crime scene. And also Stano couldn't remember her name or at least claim not to. Crowe then moved on to yet another murder, that of Ramona Neal, the 19-year-old girl from Forest Park, Georgia, who had come to Daytona Beach to celebrate her high school graduation with a bunch of friends, called her boyfriend, inviting other girls into their room. Once again, Stano, eager to talk to his best bud.

Come on, Paul, let's talk again. You want to have some soda? Maybe Capri, son? Come on, Let's have a go cheese sandwiches talk about murders Stano told Crow that he had picked up Ramona on the beach side in Daytona Beach Can you tell what on what location you found her and what she was wearing on the night in question now asked the sergeant? The young lady was wearing a the night in question, now asked the sergeant. The young lady was wearing a blue two-piece bikini. She was picked up in front of the holiday and boardwalk Daytona Beach, where there's a little picnic grove

with a canopy. Stano said that he asked the girl if she wanted to get a little high, you know, smoke a little weed, and she said, fine, sure. And she hopped in the car. I was also drinking at the time. I had some beers in the car at the time, so we were doing a little bit of both."

He said. And then he said that they went for a ride. Stano said they cruised the beach, smoking pot, drank a little bit. Then they went to Beach Street. From there, he says they drove up to Bulo Ruins in a secluded and idyllic state park. In the secluded and idyllic state park. All the while smoking and drinking according to Stano, and they parked there. What happened after you stopped? Crow asked. Well, I believe I asked young lady if she wanted to have sex

I say believe because we were both pretty well mellowed out or high at the time and and she started to get a sort of an Edgy pissed off side and that got me upset and pissed off and my hand just approached her neck and I strangled her That's a fucking weird way to say, you know, and you know, you know how it is Paul Come on, buddy, my buddy, you know how it is. Sometimes you get mad and all of a sudden you're like, oh shit, my hand's on her neck. And then he says he strangled her. And I also, he said I also believe, say believe, that I cut her once or twice with the knife I had with me. Now this piece of shit, he hates women who he thinks are quote tramps, women who quote run around. But if a woman he has just met will not fuck him immediately in his car, he kills him for being a bitch. Like with so many of these killers, such a sad reflection of the

culture they come from, right? Where women are viewed by so many men as either being sexually cold prudes, right? Stuck up bitches or as sexually promiscuous tramps or whores, i.e. loose dirty bitches. Lusophenous, Lusophenous smirking! Saying I don't know the half of it about this damned if you do damned if you don't you know put out culture. Crow now said I know this has been a long time Gerald but you said you cut her do you mean stabbed her? Jerry answered with a simple yes. Okay what happened then? Crow asked. I then carried her out of the car and left her up there at Bulo ruins in a swampy area. Is there anything specific you did with the body when you laid it down? Think hard Gerald. It's been, I know since 1976,

but what did you do with the body once you laid her out by the swampy area? Describe the scene to me if you can. Crow wanted to know about the method of concealment of the body that would help definitively tie Stano to this case. the method of concealment of the body that would help definitively tie Stano to this case. And Jerry said, we got out there and as I said before, I got her out of the car and put thickets or weeds, whatever you want to call them, over the girl's body to conceal her from sight for anyone who might happen to pass by. It was becoming clear that this was one of Stano's trademarks, right? Loosely covering, moving the bodies like this and something that could lead investigators to still other bodies. But it might take months or years to track down all the cases. And first Crowe and his law enforcement associates wanted to make sure that

Stano would be kept behind bars for a long, long time, as in permanently. Prosecutors had the confessions, but they didn't want to risk a long court battle. And they agreed that if Stano pled guilty to the murders of Mary Carol Mayor, Tony Van Hattix and Nancy Heard, and that his confessions, and that his, then his confessions his confessions in nither cases would simply be read into the court record, and he would receive three consecutive life sentences, each carrying a mandatory minimum of 20 years behind bars but no death penalty. Stano agrees.

On September 2, 1981, Judge S. James Foxman accepts the plea bargain and imposes the three life sentences on the now 29-year-old Jerry, actually just 10 days away from his 30th birthday. Mr. Stano said Judge Foxman, the information before me, these three cases, lead me to believe that the death penalty may very well have been appropriate in any of these three cases, perhaps all of them. I reluctantly agree not to sentence you to death to eliminate the possibility of the death penalty. And with that Gerald is taken to the county jail and later that week transported to the Florida state prison, but Jerry's court day is far from over.

December 18th, 1981 Brevard County Sheriff's Detectives now charged Dana with murdering his seventh woman, Kathy Sharpe, the 17 year old from Port Orange. I know he just received three sentences there, but part of his plea deal was that the other three confessions he already gave, not gonna get in trouble for him. But now there's a seventh. This is the girl who disappeared December of 1973, whose remains hunters found in the Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge 13 months later. You might think that this new charge will be distressing to Gerald, because every charge of first-degree murder brought with it the possibility of a death sense but weirdly enough doesn't appear nervous in the slightest. Like so many dirtbags Gerald seemed to truly enjoy bragging about his crimes, reveling in the

publicity he got while in county jail. A new charge also meant more time hanging out with buddy old pal Paul Crowe. Come on, come on Paul! Let's go talk out in the sun. Let's have a picnic. I can talk about murder. You can just kind of stroke my hair and talk about how handsome I am. Over the past three months in prison, Jerry had gotten lonely. The press for the most part had moved on to stories about other killers now, and I guess he was feeling forgotten. Poor little guy. This lack of attention agitated Jerry so much, he was the one to contact Crowe wanting to discuss more murders. I can talk more about more stuff!

Even if it meant he could wind up paying for one of those murders with his life. Crowe was elated when he got a letter from Jerry, which suggested he was willing to talk. He contacted the prison, received permission to have Stano temporarily returned to the county jail and the band is back together. Oh, fuck yeah. returned to the county jail and the band is back together. Crowe would now get help with some new interviews. He called in detectives, investigators from other departments like Johnny Mannis, the sergeant who'd overseen Kathy Sharf's case who arrives in Daytona Beach on August 11, 1982. Maness had had an important piece of evidence that summer an article of clothing had been

taken from Stano's prison cell and given to a dog named Harass II, who then sauntered east on a small trail through the underbrush near the Titus field drainage ditch. Harass 2 kept walking, haltingly panting and sniffing east on the trail for approximately a half mile to a spot where the body was found approximately eight years prior on the opposite side of the canal. He attempted to cross the canal but became frustrated by the heavy underbrush on the other side, couldn't advance any further. Capossi decided to terminate the track until the north bank of the canal could be cleared and then they returned in late July, harassed two, sent it on the clothing of Stano again and immediately waged across the canal to the north side again. Dog then makes it up on the bank, checks the cleared area and on three different occasions

returns to a spot on the canal bank where Kathy Sharpe's body was found back in 1974 and Stano had been there. And that is fucking crazy. Oh praise Bojangles. These dogs are amazing. That this dog, uh, able to pick up the scent of someone who had walked through the area eight years earlier once. Can you imagine what a living hell it would be to have a nose that sensitive? To walk into a room, turn to a friend and be like, you farted in here didn't you? They're like what? No I didn't. I mean not recently but like I don't know around like six seven years ago you were here you farted you had digested some fried chicken some waffles

some hot sauce and some maple syrup oh my god I did eat chicken waffles eight years ago or whatever six years ago yeah it did give me a guess but seriously how overpowering would the smell of say a freshly used porta potty at a music festival be? If your nose was that sensitive Dogs blow my minds. I blew my minds my both of my minds They blow my mind singular with what they can do sometimes most sorts on the web actually say that dogs can't track a scent for over a year, but oh harass to Exceptional nose or maybe Jerry really fucking stunk anyway another investigator Crowe called in was Dave Hudson of the Volusia County Sheriff's Office who was investigating the murder of 24 year old Susan Lynn Bickrest or

Bickrest a murderer Gerald Stano had just confessed to. Stano described how he had gone into PJ's, the restaurant where Susan worked, had a couple drinks because there was a two-for-one sale on him. When he left, he said Susan was getting into her white Camaro. Jerry followed her to the Derbyshire apartments where she lived. In there, he stuck up a conversation with her, he said, claiming she got into the car and on her own volition after this guy follows her there, which was not true, as you're probably assuming. Later, he'll admit that he forced her in at gunpoint. On the road according to Jerry, she started to get a little on the crabby side. Oh, that's fucking that's crazy.

She would get, wait a minute, hold on a second, Jerbear. You're telling me that you follow this woman from the bar to her house like a fucking psychopath creep, force her into your car at gunpoint, and then she gets quote, a little on the crabby side. Ha! He said he then hit her in the face. Then he pulled over in I-95 and strangled her to death. He then took her body to a marshy area, put her body on the water's edge. Deputy Don Denton from the Bradford County Sheriff's Office, the next officer invited to Crow to come to Daytona Beach to interview Stano. Does so on August 23rd, 1992 about the Barbara Bauer case

Crow had heard Stano mentioned that he had quote once helped a girl Driving a Plymouth Duster, which was Barbara Bauer's car in the interview with Den Stano went on with great Attention to detail as usual to recount his vacation at the Imperial Beach Motel The place owned by the parents of his friend Sammy Henderson. This is many years earlier. This would be the first and only time in which agents heard Stano claimed to have had an accomplice. He and Henderson, Stano continued, were driving through Holly Hill on the mainland side of Daytona Beach looking for some parts for Stano's car, specifically two chrome mirrors. Said they ended up at the Holly Hill Plaza where they noticed a young woman standing with the hood of her car up. Told him her car wouldn't start. They offered to check it out

Jerry immediately realized that the battery was dead and he gives her a jump and staying over poses You know, they drive it around a little bit make sure the battery is fully charged The girl Barbara he said agreed With Jerry in the front seat Barbara in the passenger seat of Barbara's car He said they proceeded out of the parking lot over Nova Road making a left on Mason Ave Eastbound towards us one Jerry claimed that Sammy and his car then followed. Reaching the intersection of Mason US 1, he said they made a left turn, proceeded north on US 1, kept driving. When they've been driving for about 30 minutes total,

Jerry claimed Barbara said, tentatively, isn't this, don't you think it's been charged up enough? Jerry said he told her, I'm not sure because it looks like your alternator gauge is off. He said they then kept driving amicably and that soon they stopped for some gas, beer, and food. I don't think you have an alternator gauge by the way. I mean you have a battery gauge, but alternator? I don't know about that. Now Barbara started to protest. Maybe some cars do, not a gearhead. But he said Barbara started to protest. She said she was nervous. Asked when they were gonna drive back to where they helped her so she

could kind of get on with her fucking life. And that pissed Jerry off. He said he hit her with the back of his right hand and then she got back in the car. At this point Jerry reported that his friend Sammy said follow me. He claimed that it was Sammy's idea now to get her quote far enough so she could give them a little sex. That's a quote. So she could give them a little sex. That's a quote. So she could give them a little sex. Because that's what people say. And he said then they could quote send her on her way. This guy be a terrible script writer. Hey let's go find some chicks and see if they can give us a little sex. Huh guys? Because we're normal dudes saying normal shit. He told the

Vescairs that they kept driving to the National Gardens about an hour to an hour and a half away that Barbara was crying, shaking as Jerry screamed at her repeatedly to shut up. Then he said they turned onto a road that led to a dump. Coming over to Barbara's car, Jerry claimed that Sammy tied Barbara up with a rope from the trunk of his car, tied her hands and feet while she struggled. Stano said he then choked her until she passed out, that he couldn't remember if he had sex with her before that happened, and that he placed her in the back of Sammy's car. Then they pulled Sammy's car up to the dump site. By this point Barbara had woken up, was screaming, and Stano strangled her to death in the back seat. Barbara's body was left on the side of the road and Sammy and Jerry took

off leaving Barbara's car in a motel parking lot in Val Valdosta, Georgia. Then Stano claimed he hitchhiked back to Florida before getting his own car back and driving all the way to Pennsylvania. And that was where the story ended or was it? Well, later Stano will take back the Sammy was involved part, but he only took that back after Sammy was arrested. He said, I stated first that Sammy Henderson was with me during this ordeal. Well, he wasn't at all. It was all fabricated about him.

You see, we went to junior high school together here in 1965. We were friends at one time, but his parents would treat me very nasty. They bought him everything he cried for, no matter the cost. That really rubbed me the wrong way from the start. Fuck, this guy is such a psycho. For his part, Paul Crowe would now believe that Jerry did have an accomplice, but that it wasn't Sammy Henderson, but that'll never be proven. Before moving forward, imagine being this poor Sammy guy.

Imagine being friends with this fucking weirdo. Back in junior high. You drift apart, he goes to Pennsylvania, New Jersey, all that, you know, you're probably happy he's fucking gone, then he shows back up in your life, alright, you hang out for a couple days, grab some drinks. Then you drift apart again. I don't think these two were close after this. You don't hear from the guy, you know, you don't hear of the guy either in years. Then you hear he's been arrested for multiple murders.

Like, oh shit, he's a fucking serial killer. That alone would be such a trip. And then a few years after he's arrested for murders, suddenly you get arrested for possibly being an accomplice to one of his murders a murder You don't know shit about and then after you're taken into jail and fucking interrogated and probably sweating your balls off and just nervous You're gonna be falsely imprisoned. This dude's like guys. I just joshin. I was just messing about Sorry, I tell stories sometimes I Told a story when I said that Sammy helped me kill that girl. Sorry about that. I'm bad Sam

Reminds me that saying, careful of the company you keep. I think he's probably lying about the possible sexual assault too that just was not really part of his MO. October 1st, 1982, Stano makes yet another confession. It was the one that he had been the least eager to make. But he'd let it slip several times that he'd been a regular at a skating rink in Ormond Beach and another one in South Nova Road in Daytona Beach. And now finally he tells Crowe about how he had been on the way to the skating rink on South Nova when young Susan got off at her bus stop and he killed her. Susan Basil, the girl who was just 12. Stano then went on to confess to the murders of 19-year-old Janine Legotino, 17-year-old Anne Arsino, whose bodies were discovered in 1973 near Gainesville, Florida, and an unidentified woman found in Altamont Springs, Florida in 1974.

And then Saina would just keep confessing to more, more, and more murders. There was 34 year old Bonnie Hughes, 18 year old Diana Valak, 21 year old Emily Branch, 17 year old Christina Goodson, 23 year old-old Phoebe Winston, 18-year-old Joan Foster, 25-year-old Sandra Dubose, and 17-year-old Dorothy Williams. So many young, young women. The sheer magnitude of his crimes was stunning to the officers. Courts could hardly keep up. March 7, 1983, Stano will be sentenced to three more consecutive life terms after pleading

guilty in Bradford County to murdering Bauer and C.Arseneau and Janine M.Ligatino. He had managed to escape the death penalty again with another plea bargain but that is about to change. March 11th 1983 Jerry's enters a plea of guilty to the first degree murders of both Susan Bickrest, not Dickrest and Kathleen Mary Katie Muldoon. And three months later on June 13th the court enters their findings that supported the death penalty here no plea bargain the defendant had previously been convicted of six counts of first-degree murder that the murder was committed in the course of a kidnapping that the murder was specifically heinous atrocious or cruel and that it was premeditated and now

finally the court sentences him to death to two death sentences for the two murders judge s James Fox, the guy who wanted to give the death penalty earlier now gets to and says, normally we see passion greed, the need to eliminate a witness. I don't see that here. These murders are completely senseless. And now Gerald Stana will be moved to death row

and will be housed just a few cells down from the most infamous of all American serial killers, Ted Bundy. The two will apparently converse about God knows what for years and become at least somewhat friendly. How scary is it to think about those two together? Can't imagine those two assholes escaping together just becoming a murderous duo. December 9th, 1983 Jerry's given another death sentence, his third for the murder of Kathy Lee Sharpe, his final death sentence. While his Wikipedia page other sources say he only received one death sentence, that seems to be incorrect. January 16th, 1984

is Seminole County Judge then sentences Stano to a seventh life term for murdering an unidentified woman whose remains were found in a field near Altamont Springs. Later that year in November the Florida Supreme Court will affirm Stano's first two death sentences in Volusia County. Then in July of 1985, the Florida Supreme Court affirms the Brevard County conviction and third death sentence. Stano now looks like he's all set to die and die soon.

On May 26, 1996, the governor of Florida, Bob Graham, signs Stano's first death warrant for the Brevard conviction and his execution is scheduled for July 2nd Stano then files his first motion for post conviction relief July 1st, 1986 the day before his scheduled execution and Actually the next day Jerry was said to be part of a double execution. He and Ted Bundy were supposed to be killed back-to-back a double feature starting at 6 a.m. Should have just put the two in a room together. Told them that whoever killed the other one would get to walk out free, right?

Charge sell tickets, you know, make it a big fucking spectacle. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday at the Daytona Beach Holiday and Convention Center and Auditorium it is a classic battle of evil versus more evil. Two pieces of shit who haunted women and girls much smaller than themselves and even didn't engage them in a fair fight now battle one another. The first time either man has fought a man which wimp will prevail. Don't miss the chance to see a death match. Get your tickets now.

We'll sell you the whole seat but you'll only need the edge. That Bundy connection really is a crazy bit of trivia, right? But a Brevard Circuit judge granted a stay of execution until 10 a.m. July 2nd, 1986 to allow Stano the opportunity to appeal the ruling. Dude 8 was supposed to be a last meal. Steak, eggs, pancakes, grapefruit juice, and coffee. But unfortunately on July 2nd, the Florida Supreme Court grants an indefinite stay to allow Shit for Brains time to present new claims in this case. Bundy will also get a stay of execution and

Florida will not kill anyone on July 2nd. And now with Stano the government moves on to his other two death sentences. Governor Graham now signs Stano's first death warrant, first death warrant for the Volusia County convictions on November 6th, 1986. His execution for the Volusia County murders now November 6, 1986. His execution for the Volusia County murders now scheduled for 7 a.m. December 2nd of that year. But then, oh complicated legal system, Judge Foxman stays Stano's execution indefinitely to hear his appeal on several claims in these cases, including the claim that his lawyer failed to represent him properly and the police coerced his confessions. And Stano now hangs around on death row for another six months waiting on Judge Foxman. On April 13th, 1987, Foxman now refuses

to vacate Stano's convictions or sentence after hearing his claims like, no, this is bullshit. Then on April 27th, new Florida governor, another Bob, Bob Martinez, signs a new death warrant for the Volusia murders, scheduling him for execution sometime in the week of May 19th. But wouldn't you fucking know it? The 11th US Circuit Court of Appeals grants Stano yet another stay of execution on May 18th and

allows him to pursue his claims in federal court. So much money, so much time being wasted on a dude who confessed to so many murders, a guy who shared details and so many murders that only the killer would know a guy caught red-handed Trying to murder a sex worker in her motel room. What a joke all this is So now the government goes back to the Brevard murders The governor would sign Stano's second death warrant for the Brevard murders June 4th set an execution date August 26 the fourth fucking time of death warrant has been signed for this pile of shit Want to guess what happens next? Yes, you are correct. Stano tricks, he fucking gets out of it again.

He has more tricks up his sleeve. He files a petition for writ of habeas corpus in the US District Court of Florida, August 22nd, 1987, just four days before his scheduled execution. And the district court concludes that Stano's claims of ineffective assistance of counsel require an evidentiary hearing and they grant him yet another fucking temporary state of execution. On November 17, 1989, a three-judge panel of the Federal Appellate Court finds Stano's constitutional rights to counsel were violated during his sentencing for the Bickrest and

Muldoon murders, but in March of the following year, the 11th Circuit decides to reconsider that November ruling. Then almost a year later, January 11th, 1990 now, they reversed the panel. Fine Stano's right to counsel had not been violated after all. But the shit still isn't over. Far from it. Let's jump forward now over seven years. How is this asshole still alive? In March of 1997, after so much legal bullshit maneuvering, so much more time and money wasted, new Florida governor, Lawton Childs, pretty bummed, his name isn't also Bob, signed Stainos' third death warrant for the Brevard conviction now, and another execution date is set for April 29th 1997. Will he finally die? No.

Now he's saved by something entirely out of the state's control. The electric chair at the Florida State Prison malfunctioned while another prisoner was being executed. At least malfunction is one way to put it. 39 year old Pedro Medina sentenced to die for the 1982 slaying of his 52 year old neighbor Dorothy James. Medina's last words before being executed on March 25th, 1997 were, I am still innocent. Then the executioner slipped the switch and something went terribly wrong. According to court documents, when Pedro Medina was executed on March 25th,

1997, the following events occurred when the electrical current was activated within seconds, smoke emanated from under the right side of Medina's headpiece, followed by a four to five inch yellow-orange flame which lasted four to five seconds and then disappeared. After the flame went out, more smoke emanated from under the headpiece to the extent that the death chamber was filled with smoke. The smoke continued until the electrical current was shut off in the middle of the third cycle and the smell of burning flesh had filled the room. Court documents would later say that the smell came from the padding within the headpiece catching fire but the damage was already done. It looked like Florida had burned a dude to death under pressure from the public outcry that followed Governor Lawton Childs asked for a review of the state's execution procedures and state officials claimed that Medina

and state officials claimed that Medina suffered no pain when his face caught on fire. Listen, assholes! Okay, calm down. It doesn't actually hurt to be burned alive, okay? Back in the Middle Ages, people got burned left and right, and they liked it! Wasn't a big deal. Stop being so dramatic, you fucking snowflakes.

State Attorney General Bob Butterworth, thank God his name is Bob, and what a last name to boot. Oh, Bob Butterworth, what a name. He would say, people who wish to commit murder, they better not do it in the state of Florida, because we may have a problem with our electric chair. That's pretty funny to me. Also, he didn't actually burn alive, it just looked like he did. An autopsy determined that the initial electrical current killed him almost instantaneously.

So, this is Corpse. Got a little smoky. An autopsy determined that the initial electrical current killed him almost instantaneously. So this is corpse. Got a little smoky. His meat got a little cooked. On October 20th, 1997, the Florida Supreme Court declared that the problems with the electric chair were fixed. It was it was actually not cruel or unusual punishment. Everything's good to go. And now Jerry's execution data set reset for the fucking millionth time. March 23rd, 1998. He was like a cat when it came to being executed. He just had nine lives. Finally though, he ran out of them. On the morning of March 23rd, 1998, Gerald Eugene Stano sat quietly in his cell

at Florida State Prison waiting to be taken to the electric chair. As Stano waited, a large crowd gathered outside the prison. Some of those present in the crowd would eventually make their way inside like Ray Neal, Ramona Neal's twin brother, along with her other brothers Ronnie and Keith. We got there early so we sat on the front row, Ray Neal said to reporters later. The three Neal brothers had been approved by the state to witness Stano's death. We all promised our mother before she died that we would not rest until Stano was tried and executed, said Ray. Most of the rest of the family was also on hand waiting in a nearby room.

Some wanted to be there and couldn't like Emma Bickrest, Susan Bickrest's mother. She was determined to come to Florida face the man who had taken her daughter's life, but a week before the date of the execution she was hospitalized and wasn't able to make it. Some had decided for one reason or another not to go. Mike Basil, Susan Basil's older brother of 12 years decided he would not be a witness. But he did support the execution wholeheartedly. He said even in the event that he was not my sister's murderer, he deserved the death penalty. You have a rabid dog running down the street, you put him down, and that's what he is to me.

Oh my god, could not agree more. I've actually used the rabid dog analogy numerous times. People like Gerald Staino, they are fucking broken in a way that cannot be fixed. Broken in a way that will only lead to more death and destruction if they're ever given the opportunity to cause that death and destruction. In his cell Staino ordered his last meal. Delmonico steak, bacon bits, baked potato with sour cream really changed up for this last meal. Some french bread with some butter, tossed salad with some blue cheese dressing. For dessert, he requested a half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream and two liters of Dr. Pepper. His last words were, I am innocent, I am frightened, I was threatened, I was held month after month without any real legal representation.

I confessed to crimes I did not commit. Ah, how about you shut the fuck up. As the guard strapped him in the chair, Raymond Neal waited anxiously behind the viewing window approximately three feet away from the man who had murdered his sister. He would later say the power slammed into him and he jerked as much as he could and that was it. I saw the life going out of his hands. I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off my back. Afterwards me and my brother smoked cigars to celebrate. I can't express this feeling. I felt so much better. I'm so glad Florida has the guts to keep the electric chair. At least there was a split second of pain with lethal injection. You just go to sleep. And with that Gerald Sano fucking Jerry

finally dead that piece of shit at the age of 46 after spending the last 18 years in prison convicted of nine murders. He had confessed to the murders of 41 women, while Sergeant Paul Crowe and others suspected the real number to be around 88. And that will take us out of this timeline. Good job, soldier. You made it back. Barely. Before I share some final thoughts, I have such a special little sponsor for you. Today's fan-dam-tastic episode of Time's Up, whatever the Hickness train rig is called, is brought to you by Jerry's Fried Chicken, Babies. Jerry's Fried Chicken, Babies, with 17 Florida locations and soon to be expanded to Georgia, West Virginia, and Idaho

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Can't wait for some Jerry's fried chicken babies. It's opened up a store here in town. What are tender the little nuggets are Moving along Gerald Stano. What a fucking freak Did the extreme neglect which was terrible he experienced in the first six months of his life leave him permanently unable to form healthy attachments To others for the rest of his life Did it pave the way for the killings that came so much later? Is that even possible? For him to have been that fucked up right from the very beginning? I hope not Could some good therapy have helped him. I hope so. I'm gonna think probably so

Stano eventually claimed to have begun killing in the late 1960s the age 18 no warm-up period dude just went straight to murder He admitted to committing his first murder in New Jersey in 1969 confessed to having killed six other women in Pennsylvania But it was his move to Daytona Beach, Florida that led to his most prolific killing spree. A spree that lasted seven years. Sometimes with only a few months, weeks, even days between kills. That one time killed two, same day supposedly. Bodies of young women would show up usually on the side of the road or in abandoned lots covered gently with leaves and branches.

Sometimes the bodies were so degraded, they were little little more than bones leading more than one person to accidentally come across a skull while walking around outside. What set him off? In a word, rejection. The man who did the most to connect him to so many murders, Paul Crowe, was asked in an interview just a few months ago for the, oh my god, for THE Daytona Beach News Journal, did Stano ever say why he killed? And Crowe answered, he hated rejection. Man, did he ever. Set off his explosive temper. He was finally arrested after exploding on sex worker Donna Hensley in the motel room where she lived. After he attacked her, she bolted out of that

Daytona Beach motel room and Stano, deciding he was not gonna risk risk being seen in public apprehending a screaming, bleeding woman, got into his car and drove away. And then he was soon arrested on charges related to his attack on Hensley. But it was another attack he had committed two months earlier that would make sure he never walked free again. The abduction and murder of Mary Carol Mayer. Stano would ultimately confess that he had killed because she was quote bitchin. And shortly after this confession, Sergeant Paul Crowe got him to confess again and again and again to other murders. I noticed a variety of other podcasters and or youtubers have called him a serial confessor. As if he was lying to get attention by claiming he killed women he actually didn't. I mean, I mean maybe that was true in a few cases, but I don't think it was true in most.

I think this guy probably is one of the most prolific serial killers in US history. I think he got away with what he did as long as he did because for most of the time he killed he was a lone wolf. He didn't have many close relationships. He wasn't married very long. Outside of that lone marriage doesn't seem like he was in many other serious romantic relationships. I mean the only other one he mentioned was to an intellectually disabled girl he dated

I think briefly when he was around 19. He was a loner who went to bars alone, who cruised areas popular with sex workers alone. He targeted girls and women who were also out there somewhere alone at a bar, working the street, hitchhiking, coming home from school, walking home from work. Their ages and occupations ranged tremendously, but the common factor was them being alone when he found him He also with the exception of one poor 12 year old girl Susan Basel did not target victims who knew him

And because he wasn't trying to rape these girls and women it seems because he killed them fairly quickly without a prolonged period of torture He didn't risk as many witnesses as a lot of other serial killers There was less chance someone would hear these women screaming struggling as a lot of other serial killers, there was less chance someone would hear these women screaming, struggling, or that he would be sexually distracted, you know, not notice someone watching him as he's pulling off his heinous sexual crimes. He killed quickly, then covered up the bodies quickly, left the area pretty fast, doesn't seem he returned to the places later where he killed to savor his murders like a lot of serial killers do. Not many seem to remember him today, even though he killed around the same time as Ted Bundy,

spent years on death row with Bundy, and actually has more confirmed murders attributed to him in most sources than Bundy, 23 to 20. So why isn't he remembered? Maybe because there doesn't seem to be much mystery with him. He wasn't a complex guy. He was pretty simplistic. And also, he wasn't sexually savage like Bundy. He didn't sexually torture, brutally rape his victims, right? Are we so jaded towards murder that murders like the ones Gerald Staino's committed are somehow considered boring? Is that why he's not well known? I hope not, but maybe that is a big part of it. His murder still disturbed me. If someone like this pile of shit, old shit for brains, stops disturbing me, I'll know I'll definitely

need to be done with Murder Podcast. Now let's be done with this murdering shit for brains and head to today's takeaways. Time Shuck Top 5 Takeaways. Number one, Gerald Stano, though his murders would end by 1980, giving him seven years as a serial killer or possibly 11 or 12, including earlier murders he committed before he moved to Florida, he was horrifically prolific. He confessed to killing 41 women. Some suspect him to be responsible for the murders of 88 women that range from children

to adults, white, black, college students, professionals, students, sex workers, I guess I already said students, but yeah. Number two, Gerald Stano, while he didn't seem to have the truly horrific overall upbringing most serial killers do, that lasts until they, you know, manage or don't manage to get out of their parents house, he did have a very bad beginning. Born to a mother who seemed to have no interest in raising kids, Gerald spent the first six months or so of his life severely neglected, missing out on important bonding time, developing strange behaviors that would seemingly plague him for the rest of his life.

Number three, Gerald was finally caught after attacking a woman named Donna Hensley with a can opener, knives, even acid. Luckily Donna got away. It was her ability to identify her attacker that would lead him to being apprehended and then investigated for so many murders. Number four, the man who spent by far the most time figuring out Gerald Stano and getting him to talk with Sergeant Paul Crowe of the Daytona Beach PD. From the get-go, Stano seemed to warm up to Crowe and Crowe would get him to confess almost

immediately to the murder of Mary Carol Mayer, followed by so many other murders. That ultimately paved the way for Stano to be executed after exhausting so many appeals. On March 23rd, 1998. That ultimately paved the way for Stano to be executed after exhausting so many appeals. On March 23, 1998. And number five new info, in 1984 there were several serial killers that hit the FBI's radar screen at the same time. John Wayne Gacy, Wayne Williams, the Atlanta child murder, Ted Bundy, Gerald Stano, someone else who had yet to be identified.

They knew him then as the Green River Killer. They had one suspect in mind who turned out to be identified. They knew him then as the Green River Killer. They had one suspect in mind who turned out to be Gary Ridgway, but it would take them forever to arrest him. After Stano was arrested and subsequently indicted for murder, Paul Crowe received an urgent call from the Green River Killer Task Force in Washington State asking him how he had managed to quote, get Stano.

Paul Crowe had some simple advice. Try to find someone who had gotten away. Serial killers don't kill everyone they come across and maybe someone had an encounter with the Green River Killer who managed to escape and now they were simply waiting to tell their story and bust the case wide open. Despite this good advice the task force wouldn't be able to find that person in Gary Ridgway's case and it would take them another 17 years to capture the Green River Killer. Time Shuck Top 5 Takeaways.

Gerald Stano, Florida's Forgotten Monster has been sucked. Big thank you to the Bad Magic Productions team helping make Time Suck, starting with Queen of Bad Medic Lindsay Cummins. Thanks to Logan Keith helping to publish this episode, designing merch for the store at BadMagicProductions.com. Thanks to Sophie Evans for her initial research. Thanks also to the all-seen eyes moderating the Cult of the Curious private Facebook page, the mod squad making sure Discord keeps running smooth, and everyone over on the Time Suck subreddit and Bad Magic subreddits. And now time for this week's updates. Updates. Get your Time Sucker updates.

Our first message this week, one I found highly entertaining, coming from the very funny and very kind meat sack, Heather Stewart, who sent in an email to Bojangles at TimeSuckPodcast.com with the simple subject line of episode 431. And Heather wrote, Hello, Time Suck family. I've been a faithful listener since 2017. Dang. Thank you. When I first heard Dan and Time Suck mentioned on the Astonishing Legends podcast, those guys, Forrest and those guys so good. Naturally, I hopped over to check it out and I've been hooked ever since.

You've been my loyal companion through boring weekdays, endless house cleaning marathons and countless long drives. Your podcast has helped me through some of the darkest chapters of my life like losing my home. Damn in the past my mother. Oh, I'm so sorry. Beyond entertaining me, which let's be honest is already a Herculean feat. You've also educated me and even shifted my perspective on some topics. Thanks to you I've become more of a free thinker less likely to argue with strangers on Reddit. Usually.

Yesterday I was listening to suck431 on the Melindi Doom cult and nearly choked on my La Croix when you mentioned William Branham. For years I've been hoping someone would do a deep dive into this particular brand of religious absurdity but it seems to have flown under most people's radars. You nailed it though, capturing the sheer depth of craziness and magical thinking these folks embrace. My aunt has been part of this cult for over 50 years. She got pulled in by her husband when they got married, has been a devout follower ever since. Growing up in a castle, I thought I was used to a certain level of holy weirdness. I mean, extreme expressions of devotion, but they have somehow managed

to crank it up to 11. The women in this group are seriously oppressed. As you mentioned, they're not allowed to wear makeup, trim their hair, or paint their nails. Pants and shorts? Not allowed under any circumstances. Their wardrobe is limited to skirts or dresses that fall well past the knees. If it's part of the uniform for the job, still has to be a skirt. Did you know that scrub versions of skirts exist? They do. Shoulders and upper arms must be covered in cleavage. There better be a modesty panel covering up the fun girls. Lest some man get a glimpse of a titty and have a totally normal biological reaction. Jewelry is restricted to a wedding ring and maybe a watch,

but only if there's no danger of a sparkle or a hint of personality. The men have a few clothing rules too, but nothing nearly as extreme. No shorts and no long hair. That's about it. Meanwhile, women are expected to be subservient to men at all times. I can imagine the i-gymnastics that Lindsay is doing. And stepping outside traditional gender roles is about as welcome as wearing a pair of bike shorts to their Sunday service. Her granddaughters were even homeschooled because the local public school was quote too worldly. For context, even the nearby Christian Academy didn't meet their lofty puritanical standards.

Now here's where things get downright surreal. My aunt's house is practically a shrine to Brother Branham, as his followers refer to him. There are pictures of him in every room except the bathroom and kitchen, because even cult leaders need boundaries, I guess. There's a studio portrait, some photos of him dressed like a cowboy for some inexplicable reason, and others featured him with what's supposed to be a halo. There are also photos of an oddly shaped cloud, which some say resembles Jesus, that appeared over Arizona in 1963.

According to Branham, he was hunting a few hundred miles from where this cloud appeared, so of course it was a personal sign from God just for him. Oh my God. Family newcomers, upon seeing the various portraits of Branham, have genuinely mistaken him for a long lost relative, because of how many photos of him are prominently displayed. I wish I was making this up but it's happened

more than once. Examples of the photos are attached. No that's yeah thank you for attaching them and it's ridiculous. Her house also has no TV or computer. She listens to the radio once a day but only to catch funeral announcements. My god! When she plays music it's strictly church approved or traditional hymns. She owns cassette tapes and CDs of Branham's old sermons, though I'm not sure how often she revisits them. I've never dared to visit her church and frankly I'm too scared to try. As a mid-40s atheist woman with a red-dyed pixie cut, nail polish, and makeup, I figure my odds of being labeled a Satanic emissary and burned at the stake are a distinct possibility. From what I've gathered, they don't have a formal pastor.

My aunt's church located in a small southwest Virginia community might draw 50 people on a really good day. Since my aunt was raised Pentecostal, her jump to brandimism wasn't as extreme as it could have been. Still, I wish her beliefs were a little more enlightened. Having a serious conversation with her can be a challenge. She has told me with complete sincerity that PMS and menopause are punishments for Eve's behavior in the Garden of Eden. And if I ever make plans or say, see you later, I'm supposed to tack on a Lord willing to acknowledge that ultimately I'm not the one in charge. I can't help but feel that if she had

ventured out of her tiny community and seen more of the world when she was younger, things might have turned out differently. It's not the worst cult to be in, but the deep-seated misogyny and lack of critical thinking definitely make for a diminished quality of life. Thanks for continuing to shine a light on the dangers of magical thinking and blind obedience to so-called authorities. Faith is fine, but not when it's causing unnecessary suffering or hardship. On a lighter note, I've been loving the Short Sucks and and nightmare fuel episodes. You're giving Stephen King a serious run for his

money with some of those plots. I can't wait to see what bad magic cooks up in 2025. Merry Christmas. Happy holidays to all of you from faithful cult of the curious member, Heather. Heather, you're the fucking best. Thanks for such a great message. Also, your email gave me the chills. I was too busy this week to get into a long back and forth with my dad about it, but I'm pretty sure that Bromish is the kind of Pentecostal derivative faith that he was raised in. I don't know that it was called that, but when you were describing your aunt, you might as well have been describing my grandma Carol, my dad's mom. She never worked outside of the home, outside of helping at the church or at a church-owned business like a church bookstore. My grandpa Bill, her pastor husband who would work at the church that she

would help at, I'm sure forbid her from doing anything else. She never wore anything other than long dresses and I mean never ever. There is not a single photo in existence of her wearing pants because I don't think she ever wore pants. Not at least once she got married to my grandpa Bill, which I think she did when she was like 18 or something. There's a family story that when they first dated when he was in the Air Force during the Korean War, she wore some type of swimsuit, modest swimsuit, at least once. Grandpa Bill took a photo of her. It was his favorite picture, I guess. He kept it hidden. He loved it. Decades later, she found it, was furious, ripped it up, threw it away, cried over grandpa coveting a younger version of his wife. Like he had cheated on her by enjoying a photo of her showing arm and legs came when she was younger. She never had a TV that played

regular cable or even network shows. They didn't have TV for many, many years. Not until some kind of satellite TV programming came around where, I don't even remember what it was called, but I remember every single channel in the package was strictly Christian programming. Like you couldn't, you literally couldn't turn it to a channel that wasn't Christian programming, like not even like the Hallmark Channel, too sinful. So you didn't have to ever seen a commercial that was secular, nothing. She didn't read the newspaper, didn't listen to any secular music that was forbidden. She would get taken in the spirit and speak in tongues and move around a lot at church,

but never dance. Dancing was of the devil. She begged me not to go to college. It was satanic. If she would have lived long enough to see any of my stand-up, oh, she would have honestly wept for my soul. I've been so offended. Listening to an episode of Time times like might have actually killed her

My uncle Paul her youngest son was dying of AIDS in a San Francisco hospital some nurses nearly threw her out of the hospital Because she was losing her fucking mind over all the gay people in the hospital gay people including her dying son Who she would yell at on his deathbed refusing to accept him telling her that he was also gay I'm with you. Faith is fine, but not when it is causing unnecessary suffering or hardship like it did with my grandma. She caused so much unnecessary suffering and hardship on her family members. I could go on and on, but she and my grandpa traumatized the shit out of all of their sons with this kind of stuff. All of them went through a lot of unnecessary struggle. They were not raised to function properly in the secular world at all.

So unnecessary. My dad will carry rage over his upbringing until the day he dies. He's 70 years old now, still gets choked up thinking about his childhood. Trying to talk about how, you know, how fucked up all the fire and brimstone shit was for him. How he had recurring nightmares for years as a kid

of burning alive in hell. How he stopped going to church because he felt that, you know, once he was an adult, because he was just convinced he was gonna burn no matter what he did. How he never saved any money, never went to college, never really prepared for the future as a young man because he had been raised to think the world was gonna end by 1984 at the latest. How guilty he felt about sex, how guilty he felt about divorce, on and on and on. So much guilt, so much shame. So much self-loathing. Ugh. Wild shit. Glad the episode was perhaps cathartic for you. Now another survivor of Branumite craziness, Bill Selby, a sweet sucker who also has a fascinating message related to last week's episode, sent in with the

subject line of more info about Melindi and William Branum. Greetings and salutations suck master. I'd never heard of Melindi and William Branham. Greetings and salutations, suck master. I'd never heard of Melindi, but I'm well aware of William Branham. And Melindi isn't the only faith healing cult that emerged from parroting off of his teachings. There's a lesser known cult called Faith Assembly, which was led by Hobart Freeman, who basically parroted Branham and others. He taught faith healing, was convinced that their, quote, church were the only people who were going to go to heaven. His word was straight from God to him and only him and he was of course God's

prophet. Even Looney Tune Kenny Copeland said that Freeman was too extreme. Faith assembly had many satellite locations all over the US and in quite a few other countries worldwide. Going to doctors was a sin and like Branham if you weren't healed you must have unrepentant sins or not enough faith. Over a hundred people died of preventable illnesses and injuries just in his own church near Warsaw, Indiana alone. But if you add up all the preventable deaths from all locations worldwide you would have a body count higher than Jonestown. He was about to go to trial for deaths in his church when he died of advanced diabetes complications.

Did the prophet have unrepented sins or not enough faith? No. It was spun that Freeman had done all he could do for the faithful on earth and God needed to serve at home. I could go on and on. Why? Because I was raised in a satellite location in Florida. They forced my parents to divorce because my parents had both been married previously and God didn't recognize second marriages. I was once bitten in my armpit by a brown recluse spider and it got badly infected, turned gangrenous. Still, I was not taken to the doctor. I'm lucky to have my arm today. Hell, I could have easily died from that.

Took months to clear up. To this day, my left armpit is disfigured, heavily scarred. This happened when I was 10. I'm 51 now. So when you mention another Branomite cult, or Branomite cult, you had my full attention. There's a guy named John Collins who was the grandson of the pastor who took over after Branum died. He runs the William Branum Historical Research website. It's William-Branum.org and he deeply dissects the cult and has a podcast on

platforms and on YouTube. He has over the past few months started a series on Hobart Freeman. In closing, I don't expect you to read this part on the show, but I'd appreciate if you did, LOL. I have my own podcast that's been going on for over two and a half years called Crimes, Killers, Cults, and Beer. Very early on in the show, I released two one and a half plus hour long episodes

about faith assembly. Episode 10 is about the cult itself. Episode 11 is my own experience in it. Because of my episodes and what John Collins is doing, this cult is being exposed. My two episodes are on the top five of my most listened to. And John Collins has a much bigger audience than me. He's also interviewed Survivors of Faith Assembly, including me. And I've talked about my experience on two other podcasts as well. Including, ironically, Human Monsters. That's hilarious.

Thanks for this episode. It's a crazy story. I enjoy hearing about it, especially because my life is indirectly linked to this because of Branham. Also, I have an episode request. Need your take on Michael Malloy. I think the whole world needs your take on that insane story. Three out of five stars wouldn't change a thing. Thanks again, Bill. Well, Bill, holy shit, man. They made your parents divorce because they'd been divorced before and therefore the new marriage not valid. That's wow. And you couldn't go to the hospital after a brown recluse bit you when you were 10 and the wound became highly infected. What crazy thoughts about the world you must have had growing up.

Good for you trying to expose some of this nonsense by talking on podcasts starting your own podcast crimes killers cults and beer I actually used John Collins historical website in my research So helpful to have some of some of Brandom's dirty deeds listed there. So keep doing what you're doing And yeah, the Michael Maloe story Maloy story is fucking nuts. Maybe a great short suck And now one more from the sweetest, strongest sack, Amanda Baker, who sent in a really kick-ass message, a really hopeful message with a subject line of 10 years sober, uh, she writes, hello, Dan, queen of bad magic and everyone else at bad magic, I've been listening to the podcast for years and years now.

One of my favorite things is the updates because it's always uplifting. I've been sober 10 years as of December 1st. My drug of choice was Xanax. Today's my daughter's 11th birthday and looking back every year is bittersweet. I was in a rehab facility in a different state for my daughter's first birthday. And it was definitely the lowest part of my life. I haven't missed a single birthday since. I've been diagnosed with depression, bipolar and anxiety disorder.

I've attempted suicide and felt worthless for most of my life. If you read this on air, I know there is someone out there now struggling with their own demons. The best advice I ever got was from a very good friend who simply said it does get better. If you read this on air, I want anyone out there struggling to know it does get better. I'm so much happier now that I'm on the proper medication. Life isn't ever perfect, but it's the only one we get. Getting help is not a weakness. It's the strongest and bravest thing you can do. Thank you, Time Suck, for bringing joy to so many people out there and bringing joy to me as well.

Hearing everyone's uplifting updates has helped me get through it some days. Three out of five stars. Wouldn't change a thing, Amanda. P.S. If anyone ever needs someone to talk to, when they feel like no one is there for them, I'm here and you can share my email address with them. Man, Amanda. Ah, Brandon, I'm talking about angels. You might actually be one.

You fucked my allergies up with your message when I first read it. And it's not even allergy season. A lot of pollen in your words. Seriously, congrats on 10 years. That is an incredible accomplishment. And you know what? Missing the first birthday might've been the best thing that ever happened to you regarding being a mother.

Now you know what a gift it is to be able to be there for your kids. I bet you have relished the last 10 birthdays far more than most parents do. What a beautiful soul you are. Yes, we will share your email with those who ask for it. Write to Bojangles at timesuckpodcast.com if you need to be put in touch with Amanda. If you're going through it, just might save your life. And like she said, it's the only life you get. I love you

motherfuckers. Thanks for being an incredible group of humans. My natural temperament, you know, possibly permanently set to lean towards Grinch. But you guys keep me from evolving into a completely negative cranky old fuck. So thank you, and it's time to get out of here for this week. Thanks, Time Suckers. I needed that. We all did. Thank you for listening to another Bad Magic Productions podcast. Scared to death and time suck each week.

Short sucks and nightmare fuel on the time suck and scared of this podcast feeds some weeks. Don't freak out this week. If someone doesn't want to fuck you, get over yourself. No one is everyone's type except maybe Brad Pitt. You're probably not Brad Pitt. And even if you are Brad Pitt, well, you don't have to worry about not handling rejection because no one will reject you. So, you know what? I guess Brad just enjoy yourself As you get to watch your lovers who just keep on sucking You know, this week I was going to end with this haunting little jingle. No wonder it inspired the Child's Play horror franchise.

I hated that as a kid and I hate it now. Now you probably hate it too. But I don't want to end on that. I had so much fun. I know I played it last week, but I didn't play it with the techno beat behind it. It just makes me smile to play both of these at the same time to play. Pastor Ulf Ekman. What a name by the way. Swedish guy fucking going nuts with his speaking in tongues and then just throw a little beat behind it. Are you ready when the party starts? Let's go buddy! Let's party! Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready?

Are you ready? Are you ready? Oh yeah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Yeah! So much noise!

Ah! Ah! Ah! Yeah! So much noise! Ahhhh! Yeah! Uh, uh, uh! Come on! Fucking crawl around on the ground! Woooooo!