True Crime Campfire - MarriedBrunette: The Murder of Marty Theer

Episode Date: August 26, 2022

From our earliest days, some people know exactly who they are. They’re just…comfortable in their own skin. They know who and what they want to be, and they go after it, and shine. Air Force Captain Marty Theer was one of those people. His plans for his life were pretty simple: He wanted to fly, and he wanted to be a husband and a dad. For a while, it seemed like everything was clicking into place perfectly to give him the life he always wanted. Married his high school sweetheart, rose fast in the ranks of the Air Force, and spent most of his days way up in the clear blue sky. But he didn’t bargain for the storm clouds that were brewing in the heart of the woman he loved. Sources:The Officer’s Wife by Michael FleemanDateline NBC S19 E10, “Deadly Ambush”https://www.peacocktv.com/watch/asset/tv/snapped-killer-couples/7751525996455149112https://caselaw.findlaw.com/nc-court-of-appeals/1201672.htmlhttps://abcnews.go.com/GMA/story?id=125624&page=1https://www.osi.af.mil/News/Features/Display/Article/2311497/the-murder-of-capt-marty-theer/Follow us, campers!Patreon (join to get all episodes ad-free, at least a day early, an extra episode a month, and a free sticker!): https://patreon.com/TrueCrimeCampfireFacebook: True Crime CampfireInstagram: https://gramha.net/profile/truecrimecampfire/19093397079Twitter: @TCCampfire https://twitter.com/TCCampfireEmail: [e-mail]! https://true-crime-campfire.myspreadshop.com/Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-crime-campfire--4251960/support.

Hello, campers, grab your marshmallows and gather around the true crime campfire. We're your camp counselors. I'm Katie. And I'm Whitney. And we're here to tell you a true story that is way stranger than fiction. We're roasting murderers and marshmallows around the true crime campfire. From our earliest days, some people know exactly who they are. They're just comfortable. and their own skin. They know who and what they want to be, and they go after it and shine. Air Force Captain Marty Thier was one of those people. His plans for his life were pretty simple.

He wanted to fly, and he wanted to be a husband and a dad. For a while, it seemed like everything was clicking into place perfectly to give him the life he always wanted. Married his high school sweetheart, rose fast in the ranks of the Air Force, and spent most of his days way up in the clear blue sky. But he didn't bargain for the storm cloud. that were brewing in the heart of the woman he loved. This is Mary Brunette, the murder of Marty Thier. So, campers, for this one, we're in Fayetteville, North Carolina, December 17, 2000, a chilly night just a week before Christmas. A 911 call came in from a frantic, breathless-sounding woman.

I need an ambulance. Somebody shot my husband. 2,500 Rayford Road. Police and paramedics arrived within minutes to a small suburban office building in a nice neighborhood, one that was usually crime-free. The building had an exterior staircase that led up to the second floor, and at the bottom of those stairs, the first responders found their victim. 30-year-old Air Force Captain Marty Thier. The 911 caller was his wife, Michelle.

When the paramedics ran up on the scene, Michelle was distraught, collapsed on the ground and clinging to her husband's body. She had his blood all over her little Christmas sweater. Despite the EMT's best efforts, there was no saving Marty Sear. He'd been shot five times, including one at close range to the head. They pronounced him dead at the scene. Now, as y'all may already know, Fayetteville is a big military town. In 2000, both the Army's Fort Bragg and Pope Air Force Base were just to the north, although the two have merged. since then. And Marty Thier was an Air Force captain, so military investigators soon showed up on the scene

too. Both they and the Fayetteville PD, of course, were eager to speak to the one witness they had at the moment, Marty's wife, Michelle. The office building, the shooting had happened in front of, was where Michelle, worked as a psychologist. She told the investigators that she and Marty had been out at a Christmas party earlier that night with a couple of her colleagues. As they were driving home, Michelle remembered that she'd left a book in her office, so they swung by so she could get it. She'd gone up the stairs at the side of the building, she told detectives, and then inside the office to look for her book while Marty waited in the car. A little while later, she said she heard what sounded like three shots, so she ran out, and that's when she saw Marty,

lying still and bloody at the bottom of the stairs. In her rush to see what was going on, Michelle had locked the keys to the clinic inside the building, so she couldn't call for help from there. She rushed down the street, looking for somewhere still open the slate of night, and found a video store. It was from there that she'd made her frantic 9-1-1 call. Investigators warily combed the area, uncomfortably aware that the shooter could still be out there in the darkness under the bushes and trees. They didn't find the shooter, but they did find bullet holes high in the wall at the top of the stairs and sequins from Marty's red Christmas suspenders on the landing up there.

This indicated that Marty had been at the top of the stairs when he'd been shot from below and had tumbled down the steps to the bottom. And there, he'd been shot one final time at close range, just behind his left ear, a chilling detail that suggested a calmly performed execution. CSIs found shell casings from a 9-millimeter handgun in the parking lot, but that was about it for physical evidence at the scene. They didn't have any fingerprints or footprints. Whoever had shot Captain Thier, it looked like they'd been very careful and meticulous about it.

What was on the scene was Marty Thier's wallet, still in his pocket, still holding $66 in cash and a couple of credit cards. He hadn't been robbed. And besides, we said earlier it was a chilly night. It was 30 degrees, with a wind blowing down from the west, making it feel 10 degrees colder. Suburban muggers just lurking in the bushes, waiting for a random target are pretty rare anyway, throw in some Arctic weather, and there ain't no such creature. This did not look at all like a random unlucky attack.

Marty Thier had been targeted. But why would anyone want to kill this easy-going young Air Force captain? Who was Marty Thier and who was his grieving widow, Michelle? Well, they'd known each other since they were kids. Marty Thier and Michelle Foursier met in high school in Denver, Colorado, and he was 16 and she was 15. And they hit it off fast and started dating. They were smart, good-looking kids from similar backgrounds. Both were ambitious, high-achieving army brats.

So I guess it's no surprise that they got along. And if Marty was quieter and more reserved than Michelle's outgoing personality, well, that worked too. They complimented each other. Michelle's adolescent life had been pretty tumultuous. Her parents split up and her dad left when Michelle just hit her peens. And young as she was, she had to help play mom to her younger siblings. That's rough on a kid. So you can kind of see the attraction a low drama guy like Marty Theer might have for her.

He might have been laid back, but Marty had big dreams. He wanted to be an astronaut. Michelle was ambitious, too. She didn't have a specific dream like Marty, but she knew she wanted to be somebody, do something. Marty went to the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs right after high school, about 70 miles away from Denver. Michelle would drive down and bring him home every weekend. Marty's classmates remembered how he'd work extra hard all through the week so he'd get all his homework done to have his weekends free for Michelle. Aw.

These two were smitten with each other. Their friends thought they were the perfect couple, and in 1991, when Michelle was 20 years old, they got married in the Air Force Academy Chapel in Colorado Springs. By this time, they were both in the Air Force when Michelle joining the Reserve straight out of high school. She served in the First Gulf War, even won the Air Force Achievement Medal for meritorious service. This was an exciting time for Michelle. She'd just married the man of her dreams, a dashing young Air Force officer, who, whose career would take them to beautiful, exotic places across the globe. Oklahoma, Alabama, Florida, North Carolina.

Now, obviously, all of those places have their charms. I'm just not sure how many blushing young brides dream of one day living in Fayetteville, North Carolina. But six years into their marriage, Fayetteville was where the years ended up. And by then, it wasn't the lack of exciting travel. that was sucking the life out of their marriage. It can be tough for military couples, with one partner always getting shipped off for long periods of time,

and this was certainly true for Marty and Michelle. By now, Marty was a captain, a pilot for C-1-30s, those ginormous transport planes that constantly shuttle gear in people all over the world, and he was gone a lot, sometimes for months at a time. This wasn't new for Marty and Michelle,

this cycle of enforced separation and reunion had been the pattern of their whole relationship. But that didn't make it any easier to deal with. It made it harder, actually. It was starting to get real old for Michelle. By the time they hit Fayetteville, Marty's homecomings weren't so much about hot reunion sex as they were about bickering. Marty complained about Michelle's housekeeping. She complained about him never being home, and they argued about having kids. Yeah, Marty wanted them and Michelle didn't. She said, suspected, and I think she was probably right, that she'd be the one raising them while Marty was flying all over the planet with the Air Force. She wasn't about to be a single mom. And on top of that, Marty's demand for neatness had started to get on her nerves. Lots of military people are neat. It's

something they drill into you, but it seems like Marty might have taken it to another level. Like at Christmas, when everybody was taking turns opening presents, instead of just tearing in, Marty would take out his pocket knife and carefully cut each individual piece of tape, then meticulously fold the wrapping paper as everybody was yelling at him to hurry the hell up. My dad does this too, by the way. He always has. Like, ah, now let me get my pocket knife out. Dad, come on already while we're young. Dads are so meticulous until you ask them to name three of your friends. It's like, the blonde one and the gay one and, oh, I forget the other ones.

Marty expected Michelle to keep an immaculate, better homes and gardens, photo shoot-ready house, and in the early years, she was happy to do it. But now that the honeymoon was over, now that they were getting more emotionally distant from each other, and especially once Michelle had her own time-consuming career, it started to feel like a chore. I think a lot of their problems were no surprise. They were kind of the problems that you tend to have when you marry your high school sweetheart really young. You know, the guy you were joined at the lips with when you were a 16-year-old kid, look a lot different to the 26-year-old adult version of you, and the same might be true for

him, because you've grown up, you're both different people than you were when you met. Marty and Michelle don't seem like a match to me at all, and I think the more you learn about him, you're probably going to agree. Marty strikes me as the kind of guy who wants stability and routine more than anything else, in a marriage at least. He sounds like a meat and potato sort of dude, somebody you could drop into a sitcom from the 50s and he'd fit right in as like the good-natured best friend. Michelle was not that girl. She was restless, always looking for the next thing and the thing after that. She went to school for a Ph.D. in psychology and soon got a job in Fayetteville Clinic,

specializing hilariously as it would turn out, in couples counseling. Irony! She also worked as an adjunct instructor at colleges on the Army and Air Force bases, but carving out a new career for herself didn't make Michelle content. Marty was still gone a lot, and even when he was around, Michelle still felt lonely. They didn't talk about anything, really, and she felt like she never got more and half his attention. To Michelle, that was fingernails on a chalkboard. She needed male attention, like most of us, need oxygen. Michelle hated Fayetteville, or loserville, as she called it.

She didn't have the kind of friends there she could just call up and hang out with, didn't really know many people at all. It might have something to do with the fact that she thought of everybody in town as a loser, but that's just a theory, you know, whatever. Just saying, but it wasn't just that she didn't have anybody to grab a coffee with. Michelle was feeling lonely in some very particular ways. You know what I'm saying? Marty might have lit her fire back in high school, but by now that flame was burning pretty low. Their sex life was suffering along with the rest of their marriage. And before we go on, just a quick reminder here that Michelle was working as a professional marriage counselor at this point.

What advice do you think she would give somebody who told her they were feeling lonely and unsatisfied, both emotionally and physically in their marriage? Would it be to go onto Yahoo Personals and make a profile titled, sexy brunette seeks rendezvous man and check the alternative lifestyles box in the relationship preference section. Maybe if you ordered your marriage counselor off wish. Exactly. Otherwise, perhaps not, I'm thinking, but in October of 99, that's just what Michelle did. Now, Michelle would later claim that she was inspired to explore the world of online dating by discovering that Marty had been doing the same thing. And although there's zero evidence to support this,

that doesn't mean Michelle didn't believe it. Our girl had a paranoid streak about the size of the Grand Canyon. Going back as far as high school, people noticed that Michelle often got what she wanted, a trait that usually involves some combination of pushy and manipulative, or charming, if you want to be nice about it, which I don't. Michelle definitely fell on the manipulative end of that spectrum. She definitely knew what kind of chum to throw in the waters

of late 90s internet dating. Attractive, intelligent, very sensual professional seeks regular activity partner two or three times a week for hot, passionate encounters. All right, that's it. I'm going to start referring to myself as a very sensual professional from now on. I'm a solid gold VSP, bitches. You know, step aside. Is that kind of like a phone sex hotline that doubled as a corporate answering service?

Like, I don't know. You need to mention that you're professional and sensual in the same phrase. That doesn't make any sense to me. Very sensual. Very sensual. Like, are you horned up while you're giving marriage advice, ma'am? Like, if that's the case, like, you need another job. Oh, my gosh.

Yeah. Michelle was not afraid to talk herself up. And she was crystal clear about what she wanted, sex with a tall, hot, athletic guy. A whole lot of guys. the whole thing is both skeezy and kind of sad. I mean, this is a grown-ass educated woman seeking validation from cute boys wanting to go out with her. Like, why not go the whole nine yards and just re-enroll in junior high? Like, because you know she absolutely hung up those jokey birthday cards with like magic mic looking dudes on, like on them at her desk.

Like, you know she did. And she thought, absolutely did. She was like, oh, Fabio. And it's like, ma'am, chill out. Fabio, oh my God. We're not sponsored, but just go to Adam and Eve.com. Jesus. Yeah, I know, right?

An interesting little thing here is that, as far as we know, this Personals profile is the first time Michelle strayed into infidelity. But does that profile read to you like it's her first rodeo? I mean, it's confident, concise, overtly sexual. Like I said, there's nothing in the sources about any previous cheating, but I don't know, man. I totally agree with you. not come off as a noob at this to me at all. And she was up front about her personal situation.

Her screen name was Married Brunette. That just knocks me on my ass that she specifically, like, I mean, that's a really specific vibe that she's going for. Like, I guess it makes you sound kind of naughty. I guess. I don't know. Or like maybe she's just, she's like, I'm going to be up front about my status so they don't get attached. Right. No strings attached. Right. Now, I know this is going to, to shock you. But apparently, if you create a dating profile that's basically hot girl wants casual sex, you get a ton of replies. Who to fuck it? These, these ranged from raunchy to shy to kind of weird. Like, for example, this gentleman who called himself Chill Slave, a former model and college athlete who, I cannot stress this is enough, very much wanted to smell, lick,

and suck on Michelle's feet, telling her, and this is his first message to her, telling her, it's kind of hard to approach women in bars, et cetera, and explain this to them face to face. I mean, yeah, I imagine it would be. Yeah, I mean, you know, whatever creams your Twinkie man, a foot fetish is about as tame as it gets, But maybe it's not the best thing to bring up in literally the first communication you've ever had with another human being. Just a suggestion. Not your mom. But I want good things for you, Chiltsley.

Maybe wait until the second or third date. If you want to smell feet, that's fine. But like, saying that you can't do it face to face. And like, but also saying it, you're saying it to her face. You just don't get to see her weird reaction to you saying. She's looking for his soul, mate. Ew, I hate you. I couldn't resist. I'm sorry.

Yeah, this is, I got to say, honestly, if that's your thing, that's fine. But this is absolutely a Katie's kingshaming corner moment. Like, stop including people in your fetishes when they didn't ask, you pervert. It's the first message, dude. And that's what bugs me about it. That's what bugs me about it. It's not like she said in her profile, like, please tell me about your fetishes. She just said, let's meet and see how it goes.

and maybe we'll end up doing the horizontal rumba. Maybe we won't. He's like, let me smell your feet. First message, hi, I'm chill slave. I want to lick your toes. That's not a good look, dude. Like, I don't want to, I'm giving advice, you know, 20 some odd years in the past. But like, dude, if you want to.

He's probably well into, hopefully he's found his actual love match. His actual soulmate? Yep, he's found his soulmate. I'm sorry. I hope he did. Kink shaming corner closed. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't. Kink validating gazebo time. Yeah. We're behind you, chill slave. We really are. I hope you found your soul mood.

Later, forensic computer texts would uncover all these messages from Michelle's computers, or parts of them at least. It was a strange, incomplete glimpse into her online dating life, sometimes recovering only pieces of a message thread and often leaving out Michelle's replies. So we know that just hours after she put up her profile, one guy called Rob, or Love Machine for You, caught her attention, both because he fit her needs physically and was cocky and forthright, promising her, quote, hours-long sex marathons through all positions.

Oh, boy, it sounds like Love Machine for You might be a Prince fan. And all say to that is, guys, listen to the lyrics. What girls really want is ribs. All the positions. I'm sorry, that just sounds exhausting. Just learn two or three and how to do them well. Get good at them. Seriously.

Guys, just learn the basics. Walk before you run. And for God's sake, learn how to find our actual erogenous zone. That's all we want. We don't need all the positions. And don't do it by watching porn. I can tell you, do not. Oh, God, no.

Please know. Michelle was into it, though. She liked that cocky vibe, maybe because it was so different from Marty. She wrote back to Rob, arranged her meetup, but there the electronic trail goes cold. And we don't know for sure if she actually followed through. It was a similar story with Mike or Fire in Guts. God, these names are killer, fire and guts. As the name suggests, this one was a married firefighter.

Michelle pushed to meet up with this one as soon as possible to get her fire and guts rearranged, I guess. But we don't know if they ever did. But we do know for sure that Michelle went further than flirting online. In December 1999, she started chatting with a guy named Charles, and they agreed to meet at Barnes & Noble for coffee. They hit it off, and a couple days later, they met again, had drinks, and moved directly to the shableness. part of the evening in Charles's bedroom. After that, they met for a booty call every couple of weeks.

There doesn't seem to have been much between them besides sex. And eventually Charles started getting the feeling, as Michael Fleeman writes in the officer's wife, that there was something strange going on about her. And it turns out, Charles was a creepy snoop. He somehow got hold of her email password. I assume she wrote it down somewhere because she was a compulsive note taker. The password, get this, was cheater. So I guess Michelle had at least some self-awareness about what she was.

Charles logged into Michelle's email from his own house and discovered a bunch of messages from other men with raunchy usernames. Michelle hadn't mentioned seeing anybody else, and Charles was worried that if she was slamming ass all around Fayetteville, that is, with guys other than him, she might just give him STD. Seems like a good reason to use condoms when you have sex with people you met on Craigslist, Charles, and keep your crusty nose out of other people's damn private email. emails, but what do I know about it? Yeah, Charles, stop being nosy and wrap it up. Jesus. When he asked her if she was seeing any other guys, Michelle got mad and demanded how he knew about her personal life, which fair enough, I'd be pissed off too. Honestly, if you can't trust random guys you meet online for casual sex, who can you trust? I'm shocked and disappointed, Charles. He and Michelle broke up after that, but by March 2000, she was back on the horse, responding to

a new guy that she was, quote, looking for partner and escort to CF functions. Now, CF, was Carolina Friends, a swingers club that set up weekend-long parties and hotels, and Michelle swan-dived into this scene like she'd been waiting her whole life for it. At the parties, she would hook up with multiple partners, men, women, and couples, while still meeting up solo with guys who responded to her personal's profile, men with screen names like Chopper Jack and Ohio Stallion. And again, if this stuff is what buttered your crumpet, then keep right on buttering, okay? Go for it. But I think it's worth remembering that with Michelle, all of this was happening,

just a few months after her very first married brunette posting. She'd gone really far, really fast into this brand new lifestyle, and it almost seems kind of frantic to me. Like, it doesn't seem joyful and fun in her case. It seems kind of desperate. And, of course, she wasn't letting her husband in on any of it. He was completely in the dark, which is obviously not great. You don't fix a marriage by sneaking around like this.

You're just widening the gulf between you. Now, in April 2000, Michelle got a response to her ad that would add explosive elements, to her increasingly wildlife. It was from a man who fit her requirements to a T, tall, fit, and cocky. This was Army Staff Sergeant John Diamond. John Diamond was an Army ranger stationed at Fort Bragg, an accomplished soldier and trained sniper, who at 28, was hoping to wind down his military career soon.

He was also married, but kind of sort of separated. This was his second marriage, and it was going down the tubes for the same reason as his first, namely that John Diamond, a macho, fun-loving, energetic dude had trouble keeping his dick in his pants. His family have described him as a ladies' man, which I guess sounds better than horny cheatings fleas ball. With a name like that, like John Diamond, everyone should have known he couldn't be tamed. That's the name of a character in an action flick that would only put down his guns to fuck. Like that character would, of course, be played by Dwayne Johnson. Absolutely.

It absolutely would. Or possibly Vin Diesel. I can see Vin Diesel doing it too. Yeah. Only put his guns down to fuck. That's so funny. All right. So John and Michelle met for the first time at the Fayetteville O'Charlie's, which if you're not familiar, is a sort of TGI Friday sort of place. I love O'Charlie's.

They have amazing caramel pie. Good burgers, you know, not exactly known for a throbbing undercurrent of forbidden passion, but whatever. I mean, I guess it's as good a place for a rendezvous as any. But Michelle and John hit it off big time. And now let's get out of here and get to it. and before long as Marty headed off to another deployment they were getting together all the time in bed and out of it and they weren't even trying to hide the relationship like one time after John spent the night he and Michelle pulled out of the driveway in her yellow corvette and one of

the neighbors who was a friend of Marty's was standing there like holding his garden hose just watching like uh and Michelle just grinned at him and wave just totally shameless another time an army buddy asked John why he was getting all dressed up and he said he and Michelle were going swinging. They went out to bars and nightclubs together. He brought her on to the barracks, introduced her to everybody as his girlfriend. Soon he'd be introducing her as his fiancee. Pretty soon it seemed like the only person in Fayetteville who didn't know what his wife was getting up to was Marty Thier, poor guy. And so it went. When Marty would come back from deployment, they'd move the rumpus bumpus to a no-tel motel, taking turns paying for the rooms. When Marty would deploy

again, John would just be right back over at the Thier's house, not even trying to hide it from the neighbors, which is really something because adultery is actually illegal in the military. So that's a big risk for him. Yeah. And John was still married himself. His wife, Lords, was from Panama. They'd gotten together while John was stationed

there, falling hard for each other. John asked her to marry him almost immediately after they met, which Lords, baby. Look at that flag. What color is it? That's right. Red. Crimson. Vermillion.

Scarlet. Another red flag was that John, who was just 22 at that point, had already been married once before, had a daughter and gotten divorced by the time they met and instantly proposed to Lourdes. And she didn't find out about that until the woman came up to him in a restaurant one night and asked John how his baby was doing. Ooh. Lords was, of course, angry that John had kept this from her.

I mean, what else was he hiding? But in a pattern that would define their relationship, he just bombarded her with lovey-dovey talk and attention, and she forgave him. And two years into their marriage, they had a son. A new wife and a new son didn't do much to keep John's pants up, though. He was, after all, a horny cheating sleaze ball. Oh, sorry. Ladies, ma'am. One time, Lawrence picked up the phone and a woman asked when John was coming to pick her up and take her to the beach. This is just amazing on multiple levels.

Like obviously it means he's cheating on her again. But also like, really, lady? Like you call a guy at home, a woman answers, and your reaction is just to ask her when your boy is coming to pick you up for your date? Like, did it not occur to you that there might be some shenanigans going on here? I don't know. Maybe she knew he was married and it was just a flex on the other woman. I don't know.

Either way, yikes. Double yikes. Another time, John told Lourdes that the army was making him stay late for, quote, exercises. That's why he was always rolling in at two, three o'clock in the morning. Not because he was on a fuck tour of Panama. When she found love letters from another woman, Lourdes figured out just what kind of night exercises he meant. Yeah. But she forgave him again and again, looking forward to a new life in the U.S., and in 1999, she finally got it when John got transferred to Fayetteville. Lords enjoyed life in the States, even though

she didn't speak much English at first, she got a job as a housekeeper on base where there were plenty of other Spanish speakers and John spoke Spanish fluently. Lourdes hoped North Carolina would be a new start for their marriage, that John might settle down now that he was back on his home turf. Yeah, not so much.

Before long, John started staying out all night. Women would call their apartment looking for him. When Lawrence confronted him, John would break out the old gas-lighting machine call her crazy, and then he'd get furious. One time he told her he got tired of old pussy, and that if she didn't get off his back about it, he'd kill her so bad her son would see the blood.

Holy shit. Campers, the scientific name for someone like this is, quote, not a good dude. This is an entitled, violent, sucking asshole of a man with no impulse control. In November of 99, John and Lords separated legally, but they still got back together sometimes with Lord's clinging to the increasingly faint hope that he would change and love her the way she deserved. Even when they weren't romantically involved, Lords would often let John sleep on the

couch in the apartment. She still cared about him. They had a son together, and he still paid most of the bills. But from the summer of 2000 onwards, John Diamond was all about Michelle. He was obsessed with her, intoxicated by her intelligence and her lack of inhibition in the bedroom. And Michelle, at least in the beginning, appreciated all the attention and affection and sex. It was everything she'd gone online to look for. But it didn't take long for Michelle to realize that they were coming at this relationship from very different angles. John, the guy who decided to marry Lords, pretty much the minute he met her, dove in headfirst, telling Michelle he loved her that they were soulmates. S-O-U-L-L-Mate.

But Michelle held back. She was all in for the sucks and the swing and in the fun, but she didn't love John Diamond. In fact, while all this was going on, she was still trying to work things out with Marty, even while she was screwing around behind his back. She told Marty, their marriage was in crisis, and they needed counseling. Marty, clueless about just how deep their marital problems ran, didn't want to do it. So Michelle moved out and got her own apartment, which just flabbergasted Marty, and finally made him realize how serious their issues were.

As soon as Michelle had her own place, John Diamond was over there so often, and he might as well have moved in. And Michelle soon discovered that John Diamond regular boyfriend was a lot harder work than John Diamond fun life-size G.I. Joe doll. The flip side of John's direct energetic personality was moodiness and a sort of needy passive aggression that really started to grate. He was always telling her how much he needed her, how lost he would be without her. This kind of heavy shit was not what Michelle was looking for from a sexy fling. So three months after moving out, Michelle dumped him and went back to Marty. seemed like she'd chosen her calm, steady husband over her moody boyfriend.

Or had she? Well, no, or at least not for long. A few weeks later, in October, Michelle took a trip to the tiny Caribbean island of Saba, interviewing for a job as a psych instructor at the medical school there. The job would start soon, January 2001, which considering the fact that Marty Thier would be murdered on December 17th, makes this little trip start to stink like that one skunk all the other skunks avoid. Michelle was arranging to move out of the country, just a couple months before her husband ended up dead outside her office building.

That's a pretty big coincidence, especially when you add in the fact that Michelle was accompanied on this trip by her fiancé John Diamond, who was also looking to move to Saba and find work as a scuba instructor. The school was impressed with Michelle, and they took her and John Diamond out to dinner one night. The dean said later that the conversation was lively as could be until he happened to mention that he'd once worked as a prosecutor, California. That, for some reason, seemed to make John and Michelle a little uncomfortable, and they pretty much clamped up for the rest of the night. They left Saba soon after that, after a quick little detour at a clothing optional resort. Nauty, naughty. The med school at Saba never heard from Michelle again. So what was this trip all about? The most generous interpretation

is a couple of cheating spouses using an excuse to have some tropical fun. The darker side is a pair of co-conspirators, feeling out the shape of a new life together after Marty Thier was dead. But, soon after they came back from the Caribbean, Michelle broke it off with John again. Maybe the trip really had just been part of an affair that she no longer wanted to keep going. Maybe she was getting cold feet and wanted out of whatever she and John had been planning. Or maybe campers, and this is the option I'm going for, she wanted to give an increasingly needy and jealous John a taste of what it was like to lose her, to tie him more tightly to her. John was crushed in Maudlin telling her

I think sometimes I was meant to be alone You have destroyed my faith in love and destiny Because I never realized destiny could be so cruel Jesus Jones my dude dial it back a notch I think I just threw up a little I think maybe John You shouldn't see women for a while Dude

Unless it's a therapist that is treating you Cruel Cruel destiny Who are you, Holden Caulfield? Oh, boy. But Michelle took him back. Probably worried that she still had doubts, John, in his own words, got a little weird.

He called her dozens of times a day, blew her up her email inbox, and one time showed up outside her class and embarrassed her in front of her students. When Michelle started to pull away again, he sent her an ominous message. I signed my life insurance over to you two weeks ago. I'll make it look like an accident

so there's no problem with the money. Huh, boy, here we go. Classic manipulative tactic. If you leave me, I'll take my own life. And campers, that is abuse. Absolutely. About this time, John borrowed a handgun from an army buddy, a 9mm Smith & Wesson, 5906,

which would turn out to be one of only two models the police would identify as capable of firing the shots that killed Marty Thier. The next day, he told Michelle, he hadn't killed himself because it would have hurt her. A statement which might just win the passive aggressive Olympic gold medal. I don't know. We'll have to leave it up to the judges, but

Jesus. It's a strong contender. It's a strong contender, right? Now, how sincere John was about ending his life we don't know. He did borrow the gun and his messages certainly made it seem like he was unraveling, becoming more unpredictable than his usual

self. And again, remember that Michelle is a trained psychologist. With John in this fragile state, she told him that Marty had physically abused her. She didn't tell anyone else this. No one she worked with saw any bruises or noticed anything unusual in Michelle's manner, but she told John. Michelle had already told John that she suspected Marty had once tried to kill her, leaving the car running in the garage while she had fallen asleep in a chair out there. Another event she shared with no one but John. Man, I don't say this slightly because

I think it actually gets way over said, but I think this woman actually is a master manipulator. I really do. She played this guy like a cheap violin. Oh, yes. She knew he was willing to end his own life for love of her. What else might he be willing to do? Michelle's boss at the clinic told her about the office Christmas dinner he was planning. It was going to be a small thing, just employees, no significant others. But Michelle told him Marty would be really disappointed if he wasn't invited. He might get his feelings hurt.

So her boss was like, oh, really? Well, okay, then, sure. We'll bring our spouses along. This, of course, was bullshit. Marty had actually been planning on watching football and going to bed early. He had to fly in the morning. When Michelle told him about the Christmas thing, he was like, man, do I have to go? I have to get up at O Dark 30. But Michelle said, yes, yes, you have to. My boss specifically wants you to be there so you two can get to know each other. Huh. Hmm. Two different stories to two different people.

Wonder what that's about. The day before the dinner, Michelle called John Diamond's cell phone at 11.10 a.m. John was over at his friend's house at the time, and his friends later said that after he hung up with Michelle, he was a mess. Michelle said Marty raped her, he told them. She was thinking about hiring someone to kill him. I think we need a pause real quick to establish that false reports of sexual assault and abuse are vanishingly rare. It just... Yeah, it's like in the single digits.

It's just really... It's like 2%. There's a whole myth that it happens all the time and just it doesn't. It doesn't happen. However, in cases like Michelle's, we have to take in all the evidence, which does not show any signs of domestic violence taking place. Michelle lied again and again, and I think that makes her all the more reprehensible. Because when it does happen, it makes it 5,000 times harder for real victims to get bullied. We already have, you know, enough trouble.

Yeah, it's an uphill. battle. To even report a sexual assault, it's a nightmare for the victim. This is not something to be taken lightly. Michelle. Bitch. An hour after that call, Michelle and John

met for lunch to talk about well, who knows, but I'm guessing it wasn't the appetizers. Michelle called him four more times that day, and once the next, just afternoon on the day of the Christmas dinner. Soon after that call, John rang up a local

pawn shop to schedule a session at their firing rage the next day. Not really an unusual activity for a military man, and one that conveniently would give him a good excuse for having gunshot residue all over his hands in the next couple days. You know, just in case that came up for some reason. Later, John called his wife, Lourdes, from a video store. They were going to watch a movie together that night and decided on The Patriot, which, ew. somehow it kind of fits though doesn't it that he'd be into mel gibson it really does the christmas dinner was in carrie about an hour's drive from fayetteville and marty and michel drove down there with another couple from the clinic it wasn't like a wild night just a casual dinner over by nine-thirty just as everybody was getting ready to leave michel excused herself and made a very short phone call after that it was back on the road to fayetteville marty drove the other couple to michel's clinic and

where they left their car, and then he and Michelle headed off towards home. When they stopped for gas, Michelle told Marty she'd left a book she needed at the office. So they drove back to the clinic, parked out back. Michelle went up the exterior stairway and went inside. Marty waited in the car outside, and apparently at some point he got impatient, because he walked up the stairs. And that just about brings us up to speed with where we started. Marty Thier was shot five times, the last delivered a close range to his head. people in the neighborhood who heard the shots described them as careful and methodical, not hurried at all.

And after being interviewed and having her hands tested for gunshot residue, Michelle was allowed to go home just before dawn. Not long after, her boss showed up at the clinic, and when investigators spoke to him, they learned that the fears had been having marital problems, that Michelle had in fact had an affair. Michelle had neglected to mention this to them. She probably just forgot. When investigators spoke to her again, she owned it. up, but only to the one affair with John Diamond, which she said was over, and she told him she hadn't spoken to John in two days. But when the detectives mentioned that they'd be looking at her cell phone records soon, Michelle suddenly remembered that, oh yeah, she'd actually called John the night of the Christmas dinner, just as they were getting ready to leave.

She'd wanted to ask his advice about some car repairs, but he hadn't picked up. Now, at this, of course, the detective smelled a big, greasy rat. Michelle had called her ex-lovers shortly before her husband was murdered, then forgot all about it till she realized they were going to comb through her phone records. As she was leaving a Christmas dinner, she suddenly had an urgent need to talk to her ex about auto repair. Like from the restaurant?

Yeah. All this was suspicious as hell. So, of course, the next step was to talk to John Diamond. He freely admitted to the affair, but he made it out to be a casual thing, just one of many notches on his bedposts because he was such a horny cheating skis bag. Oh, I'm sorry, I mean

ladies' man. But he had an alibi for Marty's death, he said. He was at home watching the Patriot with Lords and her mother. And when investigators checked with Lord, she backed him up on that. They checked his hands for gunshot residue, and of course they found it. He'd gone to the firing range the day after Marty's death, after all. If Michelle was grieving, she apparently needed John's help to do it. After Marty's death, he often spent the night at the Thier's house,

parking down the street and walking across people's yards to get there, which, subtle, man. Good to see all that special forces training we paid for going to good use, right? As it became clear that investigators were looking closely at both Michelle and John for Marty's murder, Michelle got increasingly paranoid, convinced that the police, the local newspaper, even friends and family had it in for her. She and John actually went to a spy store and rented gear to check her house for bugs. They didn't find any. But holy shit.

She started to imagine police tales when she drove anywhere. Her imagination might have exaggerated the extent, but the mighty death boulder of justice was definitely starting to roll inexorably toward them. A couple of months after Marty's death, following John's cell phone records, led investigators to Peyton Donald, an army sergeant and a friend of John's. When they interviewed Donald, investigators learned that he'd loan John his personal handgun, a nine-millimeter model that could be a match to the one used to kill Marty Thier. This was the weapon John had threatened to end his own life with. It was starting to look like he might have used it to end Marties instead. And when Sergeant Donald told investigators that John

still had the gun, they got him to call him up on his cell phone and ask him to return it, so Fayetteville PD could run tests. Now, as it happened, John had been away with Michelle for a weekend in Florida and was still on his way back. Smart thing to do when you were under investigation for murdering your girlfriend's husband, right? And an even smarter thing to do if you're under suspicion for killing your husband. I don't think these two are the brightest bulbs in the chandelier. Bless their hearts. I guess they just couldn't keep their paws off each other. La Pasion or whatnot. John told his buddy Sergeant Donald that, dang it, super sorry about this and all, but he didn't have the gun anymore. This knocked poor Sergeant Donald sideways. Up to this moment, he'd been

100% convinced that the investigators were barking up the wrong tree, that John Diamond would never commit a murder. Now he was starting to think that John might have actually killed Marty Thier and used his gun to do it. Not fucking cool, John. Not something one bro should do to another. Bros don't use their bro's guns to kill another bro man. But then, just as investigators were about to leave Sergeant Donald's place, John called back.

He just remembered. He actually did have the gun after all, and he'd bring it back, that night. Well, few. What a relief, right? Damn, what a load off. I was starting to think you might be a murderer, man. Oh, wow, how ridiculous. Yeah, so I'll just bring that over later. But about an hour after this call, John Diamond called the military police at Fort Bragg. He said he'd left his blue Pontiac Firebird, parked at the base all weekend while he was away in Florida. And wouldn't you know it? He'd just come back to fire.

it broken into. I want rotten luck. The passenger side window had been smashed, and the bastards had stolen cash, some CDs, and a handgun. As it happens, the very handgun he'd been meaning to give back to his friend Peyton Donald that night. Wow. What are the odds?

The MP who responded to John's call didn't know anything about John's possible involvement in Marty Thier's death, but he knew something was hanky from an one. He'd seen plenty of cars broken into, and the thieves usually spread broken glass all over the inside of the car, but John's firebird just had glass on the passenger side. It looked like the car door had been open when the window was smashed. But that was a matter for another time. Under military law, John had just admitted to a crime, having a privately owned gun on the base, so the MP frisked, cuffed, and arrested him. And it didn't take long for the investigators on the Marty Fear case to take over the interview.

John was in a lot of trouble, especially when another piece of evidence came to light. Michelle's paranoia was not entirely without merit. Investigators had set up military-grade video surveillance equipment in her across-the-street neighbor's garage. That neighbor, for the princely sum of $150 and a 12-pack of beer, had agreed to change the tapes every night at 9 p.m. which is just I love that detail because it's a very much a well so you want me to change the tapes for for free I'm going to need a 12 pack and some cash man I love it I love this neighbor I love his attitude and just before John had dialed Peyton Donald promising to return his gun

those tapes showed Michelle and John arriving in their separate cars from their weekend and Florida. They talked for a little while through open windows, then Michelle pulled into her driveway and John drove off, in his entirely undamaged blue firebird, which he would shortly claim to have left at Fort Bragg all weekend. Whomp! Womp! The evidence against John Diamond was mostly circumstantial, but the military thought they had enough for a court-martial on four counts. In May, John was charged with bringing a private weapon onto base, adultery, which is still a crime in the military. Terry, conspiracy to murder and murder.

Michelle, for the moment, was his freeze a bird, although it was no secret that she remained under investigation. The conspiracy charge named her as the other party involved. And the evidence kept stacking up. Forensic computer technicians were starting to get all those juicy messages from Michelle's computers, which wouldn't do either her or John any favors. It had also come out that Michelle had a $500,000 life insurance policy on Marty. Now, that's a big chunk of motive, both for her and for the man to do.

who could imagine himself sharing her life and her money. At the start of his court-martial, John seemed his usual brash, cocky self, joking around with reporters, grinning with his lawyers. He seemed totally sure of an acquittal. Michelle was called to testify, but just asserted her Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination, which was really the only smart move she could make. But it was a different woman of Johns who would take center stage for the moment, Lourdes, his now ex-wife. They'd finally gotten divorced in January. In fact, John had served, her with divorce papers on December 18th, the day after Marty Thier was murdered, which holy

moly. For months, Lords had stuck to John's alibi that he'd been watching a movie with her and her mom when Marty was killed. Maybe that was why he seemed so confident. But as the trial approach, Lords was struggling, both with her conscience and her fear of the unknown. She didn't know a lot about U.S. law, so she called a friend who'd been here longer and asked, what could happen to her if she lied under oath? Well, they told her it could be bad. She could be arrested, She could be deported. She might even have her son taken away. And that was it for Lords. She still loved John. God knows why, but she realized she loved her little boy a whole lot more. Just before the court-martial began, she went to the MP office in Fort Bragg and said she decided to tell the truth.

The truth, as she testified at John's court-martial, was that after they all started watching the Patriot, John had gotten a call on his cell phone and went into another room. When he came back, he was dressed for the cold weather and told Lords he was going out. Lord's was a heavy sleeper, and she didn't see or hear him come back, but in the morning he was there on the couch. Her mom, a lighter sleeper, had heard John come back, though. It had been real late, but John had started a load of laundry. Now, why the hell would he be washing his clothes in the middle of the night? As Lords testified to all this, the air went out of John like an old balloon. His goose was cooked, and he knew it.

This, despite the efforts of his defense, to pull the old co-conspirator two-step, namely, blaming the whole thing on Michelle. The prosecution's theory was that John and Michelle had arranged to get Marty onto the stairs outside Michelle's office, where he was boxed in by railings and had no chance of escape. Once he was there, John had shot him five times, eliminating his romantic rival. The jury went with the prosecution's theory. Why would John go through all those shenanigans with the gun and the firing range if he wasn't the shooter? They found him guilty on all counts, and he was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

And what about Michelle? Well, as John Diamond awaited his court-martial, Michelle left town. She went to Florida first, to house sit for an old professor of hers. There, she started dating a guy named Darren. Darren had a buddy named Nelson who thought Michelle seemed, in his words, shady. Nelson apparently has good radar, because she was, of course, shady as shit. He looked her up online and warned both Darren and Darren's parents about what he found. I mean, you don't want your friend dating a woman suspected of killing her husband, right?

That's not going anywhere good. And when she found out, Michelle was furious. And when she ran into Nelson at a nightclub one night, she freaking went off on him. She screamed, I'll have you killed too. Wow. Way to stay off the radar, Michelle. I know. It's so stupid.

It's so stupid. I think this just proves my theory that, like, murderers are just kind of dumb. Like, we can talk all day about, like, oh, there's some killers that have I kind of IQs but like having an IQ doesn't preclude you from being dumb right like I think the IQ goes right out the window I think that she is an intelligent person I think that when when they're doing this stuff it's just all emotion and ego and that just goes right out the window you can preach to me all you want about how smart Ed Kemper is but I think he's a dumb shit like I think Ed Kemper's dumb I think Michelle's stupid like I'll have you killed too and that's IQ and intelligence doesn't

have anything to do with, like, being smart. It's not about that. And you can put that on a t-shirt campers. Katie says that intelligence doesn't have anything to do with being smart. The Nelson incident shook her up and she moved to her grandmother's place in New Orleans where she went by her maiden, Amforcer. In the hopes of staying anonymous, she also cut her hair short and died it blonde. And she developed a handy little shopping addiction that started to really worry her mom

and grandma. But she was just waiting for the hammer to fall, sure that she'd be indicted for murder soon. Michelle was always trying to get more information about the investigation, and she wasn't satisfied with the reports that she was getting from her attorneys. One time, she called John's sister Deborah, putting on a fake English accent and asking questions about the case. Deborah, who'd known Michelle since she was 15 and had a functioning human brain, just said, I'm not stupid, Michelle, I know it's you. After a brief pause, the line went dead. This is my favorite trick when I'm trying to make you tell me secret.

It's like, hello, is that Katie then? O'i, governor, you know that Whitney girl who are you friends with? What are you getting it for a birthday then? Works every time. I am pretty stupid, though. So that goes back to my, like, I'm, I'm in. intelligent person, but I am dumb as shit. So, yeah.

In late April 2002, Michelle's attorney called her to let her know an indictment was likely coming soon. And when it did come a month later, and the investigators set out to put the habeas gravis on our girl, she was nowhere to be found. Michelle had left New Orleans in the middle of the night, and none of her family knew where she was, believing that she'd probably cross. state lines, investigators brought in the U.S. Marshals to help track her down. Like, how long could she stay ahead of the law? Well, two and a half months, it turns out. But she sure was busy

during that time. It took about a week to get to Lauderdale by the sea in Florida, a coastal town, a little north of Miami, which, what is it with, what is it with, like, fugitives in Florida? Like, Bundy went to Florida, too. It's always Florida. It's always Florida. I don't know what. Maybe it's because they're like, maybe I can swim away from the feds. Well, I say Michelle, but the woman who rented a one-bedroom pink and white cottage in the regal apartments went by the name of Liza Pendragon. Which is totally a real name and not suspicious at all. Good job, Liza. Best on the lamb name ever. Liza tried to keep a low profile telling her new land. lady that her abusive husband was a California cop and asking her not to tell anybody that she was

there. She befriended another tenant, but for this one, she expanded her name a little, Eliza. And at this time, the abusive husband got downgraded to an abusive boyfriend, but she also upgraded him from cop to federal agents, so maybe it balances out. Oh, and she told somebody else she was friends with an Egyptian prince who gave her expensive jewelry. This, remember, was Michelle trying to keep a low profile. With a name that sounds like she's the main character of a young adult fantasy novel where a teenage girl has to save the world from her evil boyfriend or something. Like, Liza Pendragon, like, you know that's a name that she came up with when she was like 14

and it just stuck with her. Like everyone has that kind of name like in their brains. Like, oh, what if I was named this? Shut up. Celeste moon. That's mine. Yeah, mine was, um, It's Corey something, like with a K, Corey with a K. I don't remember the last name. That's cute. Yeah, see, everyone has one. Tell, campers, take to social media. What's your fantasy, young adult novel name?

What's your name for you, when you're on the lamb? On her computer, Michelle wrote out a detailed plan to create several fake identities, a procedure she'd been reading up on. The cost of later find books about it. And she had even bigger changes planned. Michelle had never had any trouble finding men, and almost as soon as she rolled into town, she picked up a guy named Dana Horton. She met him at a bar where he was celebrating his 25th birthday.

They went for a walk on the beach, she took him back to her place to spend the night, and bada bing, bada boom, they were dating. Happy birthday, I guess. Poor bastard never knew what hit him. Dana flew back to Nebraska to spend time with his family around the 4th of July, and Eliza told him she was going down to Orlando while he was away to visit with a girlfriend. Now, probably because she thought it sounded cool, Michelle had told Dana that the 4th of July was her birthday, so he called her that night.

What she told him was a shock. She'd been in the car accident and hurt her face. When he got back to Florida, Dana found her all bruised and bandaged up from her accident. There was no accident, of course. Michelle slash Eliza had visited a Fort Lauderdale plastic surgeon under yet another alias, Alexandra Solomon, wanting some major work on her face. Living out all her John Travolta Nicholas Cage movie dreams with about 15 grands worth of plastic surgery. I don't know whether she was doing all this stuff to give herself a brand new face that the U.S. Marshals wouldn't recognize,

or if she was just vain enough to obsess over her schnaws weeks after her husband was murdered. but I do know she could not afford $15,000 worth of anything at that time. She was living off credit cards by this point. But she paid it off without batten and I and went under the knife on July 3rd. She was supposed to come back in about a month for some more work, but right now she was a mess, with cuts around her eyes, chin bandage, nose broken and changed and splinted and bruises and swelling everywhere. While Michelle was reinventing herself, Marshals were interviewing her family and studying their phone records. They had no leads at the moment, but that was about to do.

change. Later in July, Dana was headed to Nebraska again for a funeral. Michelle asked him to call her dad and pass on a cryptic message, but to use a public phone so the call couldn't be traced. Dana tried from the airport, but he couldn't get through, so he just called later from his mom's house. What could be the harm in that? Six days later, back in Florida, he parked outside of Michelle's apartment complex and a bunch of guys swarmed out of an SUV. Where is she? They demanded. Dana said he didn't know what they were talking about. Then they identified themselves as federal agents and told him that Liza's real name was Michelle Thier

and she was wanted for murdering her husband. Dana took all this in, blinked a couple times, then pointed to one of the cottages. She's right over there, he told them, apartment one. Good for you, man. He's like, nope. The marshals had tracked some pay phone calls made to Michelle's family from Fort Lauderdale.

A little later, they tracked a call made to Michelle's dad from the home of Dana's mom in Nebraska. A little digging revealed that a Dana Horton used to live there and now worked in Fort Lauderdale. Figuring Dana must be the new boyfriend, the marshals tailed him from work and boo-yab. Michelle Thier was in custody. Michelle was cool enough when they put the cuffs on her, but lost her complete shit at the city jail. She was yelling at one of the staff like, You sure know how to push my fucking buttons.

You're sure a motherfucker. You're a motherfucker. Like, all right, take it easy. now, Dr. Thier? Jeez, have some decorum. So, she was soon back in Fayetteville, charged with first-degree murder, and held without bail. In 2004, she went on trial. She didn't have to. Michelle had been offered a plea deal that would have imprisoned her for 10 years. With time already served, that would have had her walking free a little after her 40th birthday with a whole lot of her life left before her. And she turned down the deal, which is just baffling at first glance,

but if you think about it actually makes perfect sense for a narcissist like Michelle. I'm sure she was confident she could beat the charges. But of course, John Diamond had already been convicted on much the same evidence as she was about to face, add in her flight from justice, and Michelle was in a whole mess of trouble. Unless, of course, her defense could reverse the trick John's legal team had tried and blamed the whole thing on him, an obsessed, jealous lover who acted on his own to get his rival out of the picture. But it wasn't hard for the prosecution to paint a picture of conspiracy. Why had Michelle called John Diamond on the night of the murder? Why had he abruptly left Lord's place right afterwards, just a few minutes before Marty ended up shot dead. In the parking lot of a

place Michelle had just taken him to. I mean, come on. Michelle was either guilty as shit or she was the unluckiest woman on earth, and these were all just awful coincidences. The trial went on for 11 weeks, but the jury only deliberated for three hours. They found Michelle guilty of first-degree murder, and having turned down the chance to serve a measly 10 years in prison, she was sentenced to life without parole. Ooh, who. Ouch. Michelle, honey, as a great man once said, you've got a no one to hold him, no one to fold them.

Advice that's probably still useful to you in the prison laundry. So at least there's that. Now, Michelle Thier and John Diamond are both such extravagant shit shows that Marty Thier, whose main fault was being kind of a neat freak, can get lost in the shuffle. But the kid who wanted to be an astronaut grew into a man proud to serve his country, a good guy who just wanted a normal, happy life with the woman he loved. He was worth ten of the assholes who worked together to end his life.

We hope he's resting in peace. So that was a wild one, right campers? You know, we'll have another one for you next week. But for now, lock your doors, light your lights, and stay safe until we get together again around the true crime campfire. And we want to send a special shout out this week to our friend Heather Lewis, who helped us with the research on this one and had some great insights on life as a military spouse too. Thanks, darling. We appreciate it. And as always, we want to send a grateful shout out to a few of our lovely patrons. so much to Sharon, Hope, Drew, Amber, Tianti, Eileen, Katie, Robin, and Sandra. We appreciate y'all

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