True Crime Campfire - Red Weddings: The Crimes of Jill Coit

Episode Date: April 10, 2026

Many of the stories we cover revolve around the disintegration of a marriage. It’s often a deeply traumatic event, upending entire lives and making an imagined future just vanish into nothing. It can drive some people kind of crazy. But other people are just built differently, and can move effortlessly from one marriage to the next as easily as changing a pair of socks. The woman in this week’s case certainly could do that, and she took that same casual attitude into matters of life and death. Join us live at Wet Hot Bad Magic Summer Camp in Equinunk, PA, September 10-13th! Visit ⁠badmagicproductions.com⁠ for more info and to buy tickets. Tickets are on sale now for CrimeWave 2.0! Visit crimewaveatsea.com/CAMPFIRE to get your discount code for $100 off your cabin and a private meet-and-greet with us! The cruise is Feb. 8-12, 2027. Sources: Clifford Linedecker, Poisoned Vows https://www.steamboatpilot.com/news/backus-appeal-rejected/ https://www.coloradohistoricnewspapers.org/?a=d&d=STP19931216-01.2.6&e=-------en-20--1--img-txIN%7CtxCO%7CtxTA--------0------ A&E's "American Justice," interview with Jill Coit 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/TrueCrimeCampfire https://www.truecrimecampfirepod.com/ Facebook: True Crime Campfire Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/truecrimecampfire/?hl=en Twitter: @TCCampfire https://twitter.com/TCCampfire Email: [e-mail] MERCH! https://true-crime-campfire.myspreadshop.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When West Jet first took flight in 1996, the vibes were a bit different. People thought denim on denim was peak fashion, inline skates were everywhere, and two out of three women rocked, the Rachel. While those things stayed in the 90s, one thing that hasn't is that fuzzy feeling you get when WestJet welcomes you on board. Here's to WestJetting since 96. Travel back in time with us and actually travel with us at westjet.com slash 30 years. 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. Many of the stories we cover revolve around the disintegration of a marriage. It's often a deeply traumatic event, upbending entire lives and making an imagined future just vanish into nothing. It can drive some people kind of crazy. But other people are just built differently and can move effortlessly from one marriage to the next as easily is changing a pair of socks.

The woman in this week's case certainly could do that, and she took that same casual attitude into matters of life and death. This is Red Weddings, the crimes of Jill Coit. So, campers, for this one, were in the Colorado Ski Resort Town of Steamboat Springs, October 23, 1993. Douglas Boggs was worried.

His brother, Jerry, hadn't shown up for work at the family business, Boggs Hardware, hadn't called in sick either. In fact, no one had heard from him since he'd left work at about 1 p.m. the previous day. That wasn't like Jerry at all. He was an adventurous outdoorsy type, but he took his work seriously

and he never missed a day without letting somebody know. Douglas couldn't get hold of his brother on the phone, so he drove to his house on Hillside Court West, a quiet cul-de-sac on the edge of town. He found that the back door was open, and inside there was an awful scene. Jerry Boggs lay dead on the floor of the kitchen, a thick pool of blood underneath him, and spatters of blood all across the floor and walls.

Douglas, frantic, called 911, and in the call he made it clear who he thought was responsible for this horrible crime. It was Jill, he said. Jill must have done this. It's probably easiest to describe Jill as Jerry's ex-wife, although in fact their marriage had been legally invalidated due to the minor inconvenience of her already being married at the time. Oops.

Yeah. Jerry Boggs was the latest in a long line of Jill's husbands and was almost certainly not the first one she'd killed. Jill Billio was born in New Orleans in 1944 to blue-collar parents and we don't know a whole

lot about her life there until she was 15 years old and moved to live with her grandparents in rural Indiana. Who knows what prompted the move, but given Jill's later life, I guess it was some kind of drama about a boy. Her new home was just outside of North Manchester, which was one of those small towns you find scattered around the Midwest, mostly a farming community, but with prestigious

little liberal arts college too, and about a quarter of the population were students. But Jill's new high school mostly taught farm kids, and she crashed in among them like a fiery comet. It wasn't that she was prettier than the other girls, but she was new and her Louisiana accent made her stand out in this town where Fort Wayne was considered the wild big city. And Jill was quick and flirty. Her best friend in high school said later, all the boys were attracted to her like a magnet. And of course, most of the girls hated her for that reason.

Come on. Come on, ladies. I hope that's not true. Because we got to do better. We got to, you know, we got to have each other's back. Sisters before misters, ladies. It was probably her terrible personality that they hated her for, to be fair. Yeah, that would be my guess.

She soon settled on Larry Enon, a kind of baby-faced kid in the year ahead of her at school, whose main passions in life were Jill Coit and racing cars. When Jill was 17, she dropped out of high school to get married, and the young couples started their new life together in a trailer home. Larry got a job as an apprentice bricklayer for his stepdad's masonry company, and Jill got a job at the Hackman Bookbinding Factory. A lot of young marriages start in similar circumstances, and a lot of them quickly flame out. Within months, both Jill and Larry were filing for divorce with the same complaint of cruel and inhuman

treatment, and a few weeks before their one-year anniversary, the marriage was officially over. And if it seems like we've given short shrift to Jill and Larry, they weren't together long, and trust me, there's no shortage of husbands in this story, okay? We've got to gloss over some of this shit. and some of them matter more than others. So Jill had just turned 18, was newly divorced, and was sick of Indiana. She headed back to Louisiana and quickly completed the work necessary for a high school diploma, and at the start of the next year started studying at Northwestern State.

College-aged Jill was a hot tamale and was developing her lifelong skills of wrapping men around her little finger, which, you know, might not be all that complicated with college boys, She was really good at it. She caught the eye of Stephen Moore, a good-looking kid from Downstate who pursued her, got her, and almost immediately regretted it. Bless his heart. Jill started at Northwestern at the beginning of 1964. She and Steve were married in May of the same year after only knowing each other for a couple of months.

By July, Jill was pregnant, but she wasn't going to let minor inconveniences like being married and pregnant get in the way of being a woman. party girl. She was too wild and restless for Steve, and by the time her first and favorite son, Seth, was born in March, the couple had already been separated for months. Sometime between the bookbinding factory and the end of her failed college romance, Jill had come to realize what her true love in life was. It was money, and her next conquest would have to be someone with deep pockets. Clark Coyt was 35 years old, 14 years older than Jill, a bachelor who worked for the Tennessee gas company. He was currently in charge of all the company's construction in the south of Louisiana,

which would eventually build hundreds of miles of pipe through the swampy landscape. He'd worked for the company for a decade, moving from one job to another all around the country, and hadn't had much chance to settle down. He hadn't exactly had a burning desire to settle down either. He'd had a few short-term relationships, but he was a long way from being a player. He was a quiet guy with a good sense of humor, and so far he'd been pretty content to concentrate on work. But now he was 35, and the solitary life was starting to grate on him. He was lonely. He also made excellent money, and was on the fast track at Tennessee Gas.

And he was a decent looking guy, looked kind of like a tall, blonde cowboy. Oh, yes, thank you. Yeah. All of that added up to exactly what Jill was looking for. And when they met over French Quarter Martini's one night, he was so comfortable. completely bowled over. Jill was funny and smart and gave him all her attention. She was also sexy as hell. In a couple of years, she'd have a brief career as a model of the tiny bikini variety. Clark couldn't believe his luck. Tennessee Gas considered Clark's job so important

that they'd assigned him his own float plane and pilot so he could zip all around the swamps and rivers for hundreds of miles. On Sunday, the day after he'd met Jill, he asked if she wanted to go flying, then called up his pilot. The pilot didn't have to take him up. It was Sunday, and although this was notionally an inspection flight, it was clear Clark just wanted to give Jill some fun. But everyone Clark worked with liked him, so the pilot did him a favor and took him and Jill swooping through the skies. Not a bad first date. No kidding. Clark fell for Jill so hard that by the time she got around telling him she had an infant son and was kind of sort of still married, it didn't matter.

Jill filed for divorce from husband number two, Stephen Moore, and she and Little Seth moved into Clark's French Quarter apartment. Jill started school again, taking classes at Tulane. Between there and Northwestern State, she studied English, lit, business, acting, U.S. history, public address, and astronomy. She would always be someone who knew a little about a lot of things. A jackass of all trades, you might say. Exactly, exactly.

Clark had grown up in Cleveland, but although he was close to this family, his work usually kept him far away. He took Jill home with him for Thanksgiving, where she turned up the charm to full power. Both Clark's parents and his older brother liked her a lot. Neither Clark nor Jill happened to mention Little Seth, who they'd left back in New Orleans with Jill's parents. And maybe family's blessing was what Clark had been waiting for, because a couple of months later, he called up his brother, Charles, and said, we're married. He and Jill skipped across the border into Texas and gotten hitched in a simple ceremony, which was how Jill preferred things. She liked getting married, but had little interest in all the surrounding hoopla.

She also had a tendency to get married in states other than the one she was living in. She and Stephen Moore had gone over to Mississippi to tie the knot. When couples do this, it's often because the paperwork in their own states will take too long to process. But with Jill's marriage to Clark, I suspect she just didn't want anybody cross-checking records that might show, for example, that she was still legally married to Stephen. The divorce wouldn't be finalized until 14 months after she'd married Clark, but hey, what's a little light bigamy in the grand scheme of things, right? Not long after they were married, the couple moved to Houston, where Tennessee Gas had its headquarters, and got a nice house in the southwestern suburbs.

Clark's good friends, Beebe and Jenny McCurdy lived nearby, and at least at first they were happy for Clark because he was so obviously delighted with his pretty new wife. Beebe was also an engineer for Tennessee gas, and another thing he and Clark shared was a love of 1957 Ford Thunderbirds. Clark had one, and Beebe had two. The same year they were married, Jill's second son, William Andrew, was born. A couple years later, her third and final child was born. Clark's full name was William Clark Coit Jr., and this latest edition was William Clark Coit the third, or more conveniently, just Billy. Jill then had a partial hysterectomy, although she would later claim the operation was just to remove

some cancerous cells. She was no longer able to give birth, but as we'll see later, she wanted to be able to claim that she could. For the first couple of years, their marriage was nothing but sunny skies and smooth sailing. Clark continued to excel at his job, and Jill found a new career in modeling and advertising. But things soon started. to go sour. Jill was always a huge flirt, which was just part of the package when Clark had married her, but it didn't stop at flirting. One summer, Clark's work took them up to Lexington, Kentucky for a little while, and Jill took writing lessons. She was a natural, and soon she and her instructor decided that they didn't actually need horses to go riding together. When Clark worked in Syracuse,

she had an affair with her kid's doctor. Back home in Houston, Jill took scuba. diving lessons and again was quickly having an affair with her instructor. That at least was the company gossip, but any doubts B.B. McCurdy might have had were dispelled one Christmas. Clark and Jill were throwing a Christmas party for some Tennessee gas people, although Jill had suddenly vanished. McCurdy was making himself a drink in the kitchen when Jill came in the back door, mad enough to spit nails, too mad to keep her mouth shut about the guy she called that son of a bitch I'm taking scuba lessons from. She'd called him earlier and something in his manner let her know he wasn't alone.

I just went over there and caught him shacking up with somebody, she told McCurdy, that sorry son of a bitch. This is your husband's friend, ma'am. And this is a common feature of so many of the narcissists we've covered, cheaters who just get absolutely furious if they get cheated on. you know, it's a total double standard. Jill didn't make much effort, if any, to hide her affairs. In fact, she seemed to enjoy the attention and gossip.

She even gave Clark's best friend, Beebe, a blatant invitation, bragging about how good she was in the sack and saying, if he was only blonde, she'd have already gotten him into bed. You know, as a brunette, I find that very offensive, Jill. Freckin' hose bag. When he told her to cool it and back off, she said, well, that's too bad, because I give just about the best blowjob on earth. Oh, my God. This story, by the way, is from the book Poisoned Vowes by Clifford Linedecker, who spoke to Beebe,

and it had a lot more about Jill than we could ever fit in here. She has had a busy life, so highly recommend to read that book. All of this was both heartbreaking and humiliating for Clark Coyt. He started drinking a lot, which only further loosened his connection with Jill, who was practically a teetotaler. They separated once in 1971, but quickly got back together, then separated again in 1972, although separated makes it sound a lot neater than it actually was. Clark just came home from work one day and found the boys alone with their maid.

Without telling Clark anything, Jill just run off back to New Orleans, where she was taking flying lessons, and, of course, sleeping with her instructor. her. There was like a five-year period where if Jill hired a guy to teach her something, they were almost guaranteed to end up naked together. It's like solicitation with more steps. I do not understand it. Well, she's getting something extra out of it. She's learning how to do stuff. I guess. She's picking up all kinds of new skills. Do you think she was actually picking up any kind of new skills or just sex skills? I don't, I mean, I think she was probably doing both, you know,

like she probably did learn how to scuba in addition to. the other activities that they were getting up to. A few months later, Jill, along with her mom, came back to Houston while Clark was at work and loaded up a truck with a big chunk of their furniture. Clark just came home and found a mostly empty house. He heard crying and soon found little four-year-old Billy. Jill had taken her other kids,

but I guess there hadn't been enough room for them all, so she'd just left Billy alone in the house. Unbelievable. and she'd already left him for months. Like, it's just absolutely awful. She came back two days later and took the rest of the furniture and this time took Billy too. She also almost cleaned out their bank account, surprise, surprise.

Clark filed for divorce seeking custody of the kids. A couple of weeks later, Jill filed her own suit. Clark was not in a good place. He lived alone in an empty house that had almost no furniture other than a cot and a 12-inch TV. When he wasn't working, he was usually drinking. On March 28, 1973, four weeks after he'd filed for divorce, he went drinking with people from Tennessee Gas.

He told them he'd just taken out $10,000 in cash from the company credit union to keep Jill from getting hold of it. At least he won't get this away from me, he told them. It was by no means an all-nighter at the bar. Around 10 p.m., Bebeam. Bebe McCurdy called his friend at home to see if he was all right. Yep, everything's fine, Clark said. Going to take a little nap and I'll see you in the morning. But Clark wasn't at work in the morning. And that wasn't like him at all. He was one of those guys who would crawl to work on bloody stumps if he had to. Bebe McCurdy called his wife, Ginny, and asked her to go

check on Clark. When she got to his house, Clark's station wagon was still in the driveway. She rang the doorbell but got no response. Ginny went around to knock on the back door and found it unlocked. She cracked the door and called out Clark's name. Again, there was no response, but she could hear the sound of a TV. She went inside and found him lying in the hallway in a t-shirt and boxer shorts, with blood pooling underneath him. She rushed to the phone and called her husband at work. He told her to call for an ambulance in the police and said he'd get there as fast as he could. Clark Coyt was dead. The medical examiner found that he'd been shot three times with 22-caliber rounds. one on both sides of his back

and one in his temple. Damn. In the house, the sheets in his cot were rumpled in the TV still on when Ginny and the police had arrived. Investigators theorized that Clark had been watching TV in bed when someone knocked on the back door. He'd opened the door to let them in,

then he turned around and was shot from behind. This suggested he'd known his attacker. The $10,000 he's just taken out from the credit union was nowhere to be seen, and his wallet was missing too. He usually kept around $500 in there. The empty wallet was found in a ditch near the airport a couple of days later. B.B. McCurdy called Jill in New Orleans to let her know what happened,

and she gave every appearance of being distraught. In the early 1970s, the Houston PD did not exactly have a glowing reputation, and in talking to Jill, B.B. went one step further than they did. She was apparently so shaken up by Clark's death that she was, she checked herself into a mental institution, and her lawyer told police she was unable to answer questions. Oh, it's convenient. Mm-hmm. And by the time she checked herself out, the Houston PD seemed to have just forgotten about the case.

They never interviewed Jill, and no one was ever charged in Clark Quaid's death. What in the fine? Oh, my God. It's insane. They just didn't give a shit, apparently. I've seen infants with better object permanence. I guess in Houston all perps had to do is play peekaboo with the cop chasing them. They'd start giggling and clapping and forget what they were doing.

Oh, Lord. I'm pretty sure this is not the first time we've seen this from Houston PD on this show. I feel like there have been at least like one or two other cases, so yikes. Yeah. Jill's lawyer was a guy called Louis DeRosa, who called B.B. McCurdy a couple of days after Clark's death. B.B., as it happened, was the employee beneficiary. manager for Tennessee Gas, and Jill's lawyer wanted to know what she had coming to her now that Clark was dead. Between his retirement plan, a double indemnity insurance policy and a company

savings plan, Jill eventually wound up with around $150,000, which today would be worth over a million. From the hospital, she kept calling B.B. McCurdy and trying to insist he should have Clark's Thunderbird as a gift. B.B. said, sure, he'd like the car, but only if he could buy it. at a fair price. They went back and forth like this for a while until Beebe finally realized that Jill was just trying to get someone who'd give her a good character reference

in Houston if she ever needed one. He cut off contact with her, and Jill kept the Thunderbird for herself, getting a personalized license plate that read QT Bird. Lord have mercy. The war is over and both sides lost.

Kingdoms were reduced. to cinders, an army scattered like bones in the dust. Now the survivors claw to what's left of a broken world, praying the darkness chooses someone else tonight. But in the shadow dark, the darkness always wins. This is old school adventuring at its most cruel. Your torch ticks down in real time, and when that flame dies, something else rises to finish the job.

This is a brutal rules-light nightmare with a story that emerges organically based on the decisions that the characters make. This is what it felt like to play RPGs in the 80s, and man, it is so good to be back. Join the Glass Cannon podcast as we plunge into the Shadow Dark every Thursday night at 8 p.m. Eastern on YouTube.com slash the Glass Cannon with the podcast version dropping the next day. See what everybody's talking about, and join us in the dark.

Do you love hair-raising allegedly true stories about the paranormal? Then you should summon the podcast scared today. death. It's the popular horror series with more than 60 million downloads to its name, and is co-hosted by me, Dan Cummins. And me, Lindsay, co-host, and also Dan's wife. Each week on Scared to Death, we share bone-chilling tales from old books and creepy corners of the web, and even some submitted by our listeners, all designed to make you want to sleep with the lights on. Think you can handle the horror? Tune in to Scared to Death every Tuesday at the stroke of midnight to find out. As soon as she released herself from the hospital, Jill packed up and headed west with the boys.

She told them that Clark had died of a heart attack. They settled in Los Angeles, and Jill got busy. There are other ways of seducing someone than the purely romantic or sexual route. A couple of years previously, Jill had met a wealthy old Californian named Edwin Bruce Johansson, and now she reconnected with him. They got along so well that in July, just a couple of months after Jill had traveled West, Edwin signed paperwork to adopt Jill as his daughter, with her lawyer, Louis DeRosa, handling things. Now, Edwin was 89 years old. His wife had died five years before, and he was quite

probably suffering from dementia. But just three months later, Edwin wrote a new will, leaving his estate to his accountant's wife, Anne Schwartz. Anne and her husband had apparently convinced Edwin that he and she had known each other in a previous life. with Edwin a slave and Anne a queen, but a queen who treated him kindly. And so therefore, he was now in her debt, hence the generous will. Good God. And two months after that, he wrote yet another will. This one, leaving his estate to Jill. So one pair of asshole scammers got hold of him, and then another one. Awful. God help you, you know, if you're old and suffering from dementia and you don't have anybody looking out for your interests. It's just

like vultures. It's horrible. Because I happen so much. It's just so gross. After Edwin died the following year, various nieces and nephews would crawl out of the woodwork and the case was contested well into the 90s. But even though the estate was contested,

Jill somehow wound up getting about 60 grand and three houses out of the whole business. Three houses. About the time she was persuading Edwin Johansson to put his shaky signature on that last will and testament, Jill got married for the fourth time, to Donald Brody, a 33-year-old major in the Marine Corps. On the marriage license, Jill said she'd been married once before,

and her husband had died. She also decided to bump her date of birth up a couple years, so she could be 27 instead of 29, and stave off turning 30 for an extra couple years. Brody was very much the kind of guy who wanted to be the man of the house, making all the financial decisions, and having his wife at his beck and call. And that was not going to fly with Ms. Jill. Before the marriage was a year old, she packed up the boys once again and headed back to New Orleans,

with her lawyer handling a quick divorce. Damn, girl, you can blink and miss these marriages. I do have to wonder if, like, personality was even considered in her decision-making process for, like, marriage because it seems like the answer is for sure no. Like, no, no. The traditional marriage value seems like something you talk about in dating. Like, of course she wouldn't prep with a man ordering her around.

That's her job. She's the one in charge. Yeah. Yeah, it didn't come up. You know, mostly I think what they talked about was his bank balance. And blow jobs, probably. Yeah, blowjobs, obviously. According to Jill, she was pregnant when she left California.

And the next year she gave birth to Thaddeus John Brody at her. home. There was a birth certificate and everything. In fact, a birth certificate was all there was, because Thaddeus John Brody didn't exist. This would not be the last ghost baby that Jill would have, and it's not entirely clear why she did it. There wasn't really a direct scam involved. Maybe she just wanted to keep some kind of leverage in her pocket. It's also worth mentioning that as she got older, Jill got weirder. Like she was still charming and energetic, but every now and again,

there were just flashes of pure crazy, as you will soon see. You know, what Jill's life really needed at this point was more drama. At the end of 1974, Marie DeRosa, the wife of Jill's lawyer, Lewis, filed for divorce, claiming that he'd been having an affair

with his client for the past four years. Now that, if you've been following the time, line stretched from Jill's first separation from Clark all the way through his death, Jill's dubious adoption, and her marriage to Donald Brody. Marie had extensive private investigator files to support her accusations, and she and Lewis were quickly divorced. They'd used aliases throughout their affair, and Jill had been the more careful of the two. She'd been Sandra Kelly. But Lewis DeRosa had just gone with Ladd Derosa. Well played, sir.

They'll never figure that one out, like when they would check into hotels and stuff. Oh, brother. Larry De Rosa instead of Lewis De Rosa. Brilliant. 18 months after his divorce, Lewis and Jill slipped across the border to Mississippi and tied the knot. Lewis was 50 years old and a wealthy, successful man, and he knew Jill as well as anybody did, which meant he probably should have known better. No shit.

Like, you've seen the madness. What are you doing, Lewis? She must have really liked the blowjump. She wasn't lying, obviously. Yeah. He was special, Whitney. He could change her. He could fix her.

I'm sure he thought that. He's not like the other boys. He's smart. He's smart, unlike all those other men that she conned. Eleven months after their Mississippi wedding, they got married again in New Orleans. Apparently, because Jill just enjoyed getting married. And we're not talking just a renewal of vows. they got a new wedding certificate and everything.

But just four months after that, Jill decided things weren't working out and just hit the road once more, this time heading back to North Manchester, Indiana. Sweeping back into town with her bright red tea bird and expensive clothes, Jill made even more of a splash than she had in high school. She bought a farm just outside of town and a few animals for the boys to play with and set about finding a new man. The man she found was a guy named Eldon Metzger's, an auctioneer and realtor.

Eldon was a 37-year-old bachelor, and much like Clark Coyt, he was lonely as well as successful, a combination that encouraged Jill to throw herself at him with the full force of her personality. I suspect for reasons of general deviousness, Jill still preferred to get married in a state other than where she was living, and in March of 1978, the couple exchanged vows in Lima, Ohio. Hello, destination wedding. Eldon was husband number six. After they'd been married for eight months, Jill decided she'd better get around to actually getting divorced from husband number five. She and Louis De Rosa flew to Porto Prince and got a quick Haitian divorce, which carried dubious legal weight in the States, which, pause.

Hold on. You marry your newest husband in scenic, Ohio, and then travel to a Caribbean island nation to get a divorce. This woman has it bass hackwards. I do not understand her. I'm kidding. Jill was busy, wheeling and dealing in all kinds of businesses and buying multiple properties. She traveled a lot, and whenever she stayed somewhere for more than a week or so, she tried to get a driver's license there under one of her ever-expanding roster of married names. In addition to her Louisiana, Texas, and Indiana licenses, she got ones for Arizona, California,

California, Georgia, Kentucky, New York, New Mexico, and North Carolina. Good crazy. Things were going well for Jill, and another bright spot was when she got pregnant again. She fixed up a room as a nursery and showed off baby clothes to her friends, but she didn't seem to gain much weight. She told everyone that was normal for her. She never showed. As it happened, she was home in New Orleans when the baby was delivered, but poor little Tinley Metzger was born with serious congenital defects and didn't survive long. Or at all, in fact, because he never existed. Yeah, there was that.

The reasons for this fake pregnancy are probably just Jill's weird brain and a desire for attention and sympathy. What Eldon thought about the whole thing? Who knows? When a local reporter ran into him on the street and told him how sorry he was, Eldon just gave him a blank stare. So bizarre. Two years after they got married, Jill and Eldon separated.

She briefly moved in with a local farmer, but her romantic attention soon moved west to the lakeside town of Culver. Jill's maternal instincts were kind of hit or miss. After marrying Eldon, she'd basically turned his basement into a separate bedroom where the boys could live by themselves and not bother her too much, and she'd recently stashed the two younger boys away at Culver Military Academies. She visited them sometimes and visited them more often after she met the commandant of the academy, Carl Victor Steeley, an athletic and recently divorced former Marine Corps colonel. Long discussions about her son's education soon turned into more important things, like Jill figuring out whether this dude was a good prospect for husband number seven. Oh, no. No, this bitch is like evil Liz Taylor.

Good good. Like, it just keeps going and going seven. Number seven. It wasn't quite cut and dried. He was a good candidate in some ways, but after his divorce and a business failure in Florida, Steeley was not in great financial shape. In Florida, he'd been part owner of a flight school, but a new federal law gave the DEA wide-reaching authority

to seize property and cash related to drug trafficking. Small planes were a common vehicle in drug. running and it would take just one instructor trying to make some extra money on the side for the whole operation to be lost. The flight school was folded at a loss. Steeley did have one thing that Jill liked, though, an elderly mother in poor health who had a valuable home in Louisville. Carl Steeley was her only heir. In addition to the Marines, Steeley had previously been a Southern Baptist minister. Jill wasn't particularly religious, but she'd grown up in the church and she could fake it as well as anybody. All her old charm, along with long talks about God, were too much for

Steeley to resist. They got married in January of 1983. A month earlier, and Jill knew this perfectly well, a judge in New Orleans had declared that her Haitian divorce to Louis DeRosa was invalid. It's also kind of murky when, or even if, Jill ever legally divorced from Eldon Metzger, so she might have actually been married to three men at the same time at this point. Boy, like, what would you even call that trigamy? I guess so. Jill moved to Culver, but still had business interests in North Manchester, which included a state farm insurance office. All her life, Jill would study and qualify for things that grabbed her interest, and she was a licensed insurance agent.

She liked to have a finger in a lot of different pies. According to Jill, around 7 p.m. one evening, a man she didn't know had come into her little office, stole 1,600. and a ring from her, then threw her down, kicked her several times, and tied her up with rope. After she managed to free herself, she went to Wabash County Hospital to be treated for a bruised rib and a bump on the head. The local police didn't exactly get out of breath investigating the incident because they didn't think it ever happened. Jill had faked the whole thing and got what she wanted, a monthly disability payment from State Farm and Social Security, thanks to her head injury, which I can only assume she gave herself, which is just her bonkers.

The marriage with Carl Steely lasted longer than most Jill had. They were an active couple, going on lots of hiking and skiing vacations and traveling the world. By 1990, Carl was 59, and Jill was 47. And Carl wanted to slow down a little bit. They went on a trip to the Colorado ski resort town of Steamboat Springs, both to hit the slopes and to scout out houses to settle down in. Jill, though, always had to be hustling. She bought a 12-unit bed and breakfast on Oak Street. Her oldest son, Seth, would actually end up running the place, but Jill always considered herself welcome to just waltz in and take whatever cash she wanted from the register. I'm sure her accountants loved her. I'm sure her son was thrilled about that too. Thank you for just blatantly

stealing from me, mother. She and Carl agreed that he would finish out the semester back at the Culver academies before retiring and joining Jill in Colorado. Their furniture headed west in a truck, and he moved into an apartment temporarily. Or so he thought. Their seven years together had been smooth and easy, but after he headed back to Indiana, Jill decided she was done with him as easy as you might turn off a light. She started suggesting he should stay on at Culver for a whole extra year instead of one semester. She hardly ever answered his phone calls. Confused, Carl flew up to Colorado in the summer, and it was not a happy reunion. His time with Jill was suddenly chilly and weird. And he was furious to discover he wasn't a co-owner of the B&B, despite putting up a fifth of the purchase price. It was all in Jill

and Seth's names. After just a few days, Carl Steely headed back to Culver and filed for divorce. It would be a messy extended affair, with both sides throw in accusations of fraud and deception. At the end of 1991, a judge finalized their divorce. Jill got the B&B, but she now owed Carl 100 grand, and if she didn't pay up, a lien would be placed on her property. Jill had been comfortable, bordering on wealthy, ever since her marriage to Clark Coyt back in the 60s, but a lot of that had gone into buying and renovating this B&B,

so now she was in a crunch. Jill hadn't turned cold on Carl Steely completely out of the blue. Not long after he'd first headed back to Indiana, she had a new man in her life. Get out. Her renovations often took her to Boggs Hardware, just a couple of blocks away from the B&B, and one of the owners, Jerry Boggs, soon made a point of being the one to serve her whenever he could.

Jerry was a tall, mustached man, a Vietnam vet who'd won the Bronze Star. He was an active guy who spent a lot of time outdoors. He'd learned to fly and scuba dive and was an excellent nature photographer. He also loved to learn. Even after graduating from the University of Colorado, he kept taking classes there, and he was known as a skilled amateur archaeologist. He was well-liked in Steamboat Springs, but he could be painfully shy, especially around women.

He was 48 and had barely any serious dating experience. This guy sounds like such a sweetheart, and somebody I'd probably be interested to talk to at a dinner party. Like, amateur archaeology, that's just freaking awesome. Who does that? I love that. Yeah, that's just cool. Well-to-do, lonely, middle-aged bachelors had been Jill's bread and butter since she was 21 years old.

When she saw Jerry admiring her Red Thunderbird, she suggested he'd take her for a ride in it, and they were soon dating. By the end of the year, Jill had moved in with him, and in April of 1991, they got married. eight months before her divorce from Carl Steely was finalized. Jill and Jerry's marriage started off idyllically, with them driving all around the state to discover new restaurants and have outdoorsy fun.

Within a couple of months, though, Jill had decided to take classes at the University of Northern Colorado, a three-and-a-half-hour drive away in Greeley. She continued her normal scattershot approach to education, taking classes in psychology, education, Asian history, geography, and U.S. history. She stayed in Greeley during the week, with her and Jerry taking turns every weekend to make the long drive one way or the other, which is kind of a weird setup for a newly married couple. These weren't classes Jill had to take. School for her was just a hobby. A little while before they got married, Jill had told Jerry she was preggers. He was

thrilled. Jerry loved kids, but he thought he'd only ever be an uncle. When Jill, told them their baby was a girl they decided on a name, Lara. Soon, baby Laura was all Jerry wanted to talk about, how they would raise her and what her future would be like. He started up a college fund for her right away. He spent $20,000 on expanding his house, bought books and toys and VHS movies. Jill bought more baby clothes almost every time she left the house. By the time Jill was theoretically seven months pregnant, she hadn't put on any weight at all, and Jerry was getting a little suspicious.

She'd claimed that a doctor in Greeley, where she spent most of her time, was monitoring her pregnancy. Jerry asked a friend who was a physician's assistant whether he thought Jill was actually pregnant. The friend said he couldn't answer that without examining her, but later on he called the clinic in Greeley that

Jill claimed to be using. No one there had heard of her. Mind you, this is before HIPAA, so they probably would have told them if they had heard of her. Yeah. Then husband number seven, Carl Steely, came to town to meet with his local attorney. Steamboat Springs is a small town, and it just so happened that the lawyer was friends with Jerry Boggs' brother, Douglas, and happened to mention that Jill's husband was in town.

This was big news to Douglas, because Jill had been married to Jerry for months at this point. He was close to his brother and had always thought Jill might be a few Nuggies short of a happy meal. The Boggs brothers happened to have a friend who was a private investigator, and Douglas hired her to dig into Jill's past. The PI quickly learned that Jill was indeed still married to Carl Steely, and it had seven husbands before Jerry. Four of those marriages had been bigamiss. One of them might have been trigamous.

She also found that Jill had multiple aliases, and most worryingly, that Clark Coit had been murdered just weeks after filing for divorce from Jill. For her part, Jill put on her shocked Pikachu face. she claimed she'd honestly thought she was already divorced from Steeley, and for the moment, Jerry went along with that. Their marriage was declared invalid on December 3rd. They told the judge they intended to get married for real once matters back in Indiana were taken care of, but this relationship was not only on the rocks, it had already smashed apart and sunk. Just a few days later, they had a big fight, and Jill stormed out and headed back to Greeley.

On December 22nd, Jill called her. Jerry to let him know that she'd given birth to their daughter the night before, all by herself, in her son William's house in Denver. But she refused to bring the baby girl home so Jerry could see her, you know, for the obvious reason that she did not exist. Jerry was fallen apart, poor guy. He had serious doubts about whether Jill had actually given birth, but, you know, he didn't know for sure, and it was driving him nuts. He didn't sleep much. He made mistakes at work. He was just utterly despondent. Friends tried to get him to see a therapist, but he refused, like a lot of men of his generation probably would have, you know, got to walk it off. Sort out your problems yourself.

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Well, if that's all, I can just dispose of you. Wait, what? All will be revealed in. Sonic the Hedgehog presents the Chaotics Case Files. Listen now, wherever you get your podcasts. When the Chaotics are on the cake. Jill moved her stuff out, but she constantly pestered him over petty little things. She still split her time between Greeley and Steamboat Springs and made it

her mission to bad mouth Jerry whenever she was back in town, saying he'd thrown her out of the house just a week before her due date and forced her to make the arduous drive to Greeley all alone. And then he'd had the nerve to tell people he doubted she was really pregnant at all. How could he say that when her

boobs had gone from 34D to 34E? And her belly was 10 inches bigger. Which certainly would have been a noticeable change and nobody in Steamboat Springs had noticed it. She said Jerry refused to provide any support to her or their new daughter. Sometimes when she was back in town, people saw her with a baby as she walked down the street,

or at least saw her carrying some object wrapped in warm blankets against the Colorado winter. Jerry's PI thought she'd paid someone to borrow their kid. A local reporter suspected she'd just use a doll. Y'all, I absolutely cannot. This woman is walking around with the cabbage patch, kid in a blanket. This is not normal, Jill. It's not normal, honey.

She told everyone she could that Jerry was secretly gay and they'd only ever had sex one time. But that evidently wasn't exciting enough. Her next story was that Jerry was bisexual and got off on watching her have sex with other men before joining in. Oh, wow. She apparently found real joy and delight in all this vicious gossip. Jerry, already in a fragile state, fell even deeper into a funk. People at his stores, I am walking around, shaking his head and muttering, what a fool, what a fool. It just breaks my heart. Honey, you weren't a fool, okay? You just fell victim to a person with zero conscience and Scrooge McDuckian levels of greed. Okay, it can genuinely happen to the best of us, as we've seen many times on this show. Eventually, he got mad.

In the middle of Jill's conflict with her previous husband, Carl Steely, she'd asked Jerry for a $100,000 loan, which she backed by giving him a deed of trust for $100,000 of the value of the bed and breakfast. Their relationship had disintegrated before Jerry had gotten around to giving her the money, but he still had the deed of trust, and Jill wanted it back. Jerry had no interest in screwing Jill over financially. I mean, this was an honest, straightforward dude, but he knew he had some leverage here. Jill was trying to sell the B&B to raise the money she owed to Steeley, but she couldn't until that deed of trust was cleared. Jerry would only give it to her if she provided indisputable legal assurances that he wasn't the father of any child she had.

I don't know why other than stubbornness that Jill didn't just do that, but instead she threw a barrage of lawsuits at Jerry, who responded in kind and a long, bitter legal dispute began. By then, Jill was already married again, because of course she was. Two months after her marriage with Jerry was invalidated, and six weeks after her divorce from Carl Steeley was finalized, Jill got married in Vegas to a dude named Roy Carroll. And here we go again. Roy was 67 years old, a widowed Houston businessman and former Navy officer. For this one, Jill decided to bump a full seven years off her acting. actual age so she could be a girlish

41. Marriage number nine was even more immediately doomed than Jill's other ones because she was already screwing around with a guy 20 years younger than Roy, a well-built telecommunications worker named Michael Backus. Okay, what the hell?

Like, Jill, what is your major malfunction? I need to know. There's, like, it's narrowing. The window is narrowing smaller and smaller between these dudes. She's like a serial killer. Except, like, instead of cereal killing, it's marriage. Yeah.

Her cooling off period is non-existent at this point. Like, I just, it's so, it's so interesting because it's like, get him to the altar and then leave them. Like, it's why. Screw him over as soon as humanly possible. Yeah, it is just wild. Michael had served in the Air Force during Vietnam and then became a well-respected staff sergeant with the Colorado National Guard. The people he worked with at U.S. communications liked him, too. He was recently divorced, and when he moved to Greeley, he'd rented an apartment on the lower floor of Jill's new house there.

It didn't take her long to move him in with her upstairs. While Roy Carroll stayed in Texas wrapping up his business there in anticipation of retiring to Colorado with his new wife, Jill was shuttling back and forth between the two states, staying mostly in Colorado to continue her college classes and take care of her own business interests. Her husband didn't actually see much of her. Michael Backus got a lot more of her. Michael wasn't really Jill's usual type, but she saw one particular thing he could be useful for. Almost as soon as they got together,

they started talking about killing Jerry Boggs. Michael's interest was clear. He tried to hire a Vietnam buddy as a hitman and told him once Jerry was out of the picture, Jill could sell the B&B for a million dollars, and Michael would get a big chunk of that. That was optimistic of him. Every man in Jill's life needed more.

multiple lawyers to get any money out of her. And Michael was just a boyfriend. You know, they say, they say get a ring before you go in on any financial decisions with a partner. I'm sure she would have married him. Like, I'm sure she would have. You're right. She would have buried him.

It just had to wait around. Would it have been valid is the question? Probably not. And she's like a quadruple of mist at this point. You know, like, you know that song? standing on the corner in Winslow, Arizona. Yeah. She would have married that guy.

She would have married the guy standing on the corner. Yeah. Just had to drive by once. So Michael's buddy turned him down flat. They tried to talk Jill's son, Seth, into killing Jerry, but he wanted nothing to do with it either. Good. Crazy.

Michael's work took him to a small city in Iowa, and Jill went along with him, with her husband still back in Houston, apparently completely oblivious. And I think you have to put Jill's attempts to acquire an assassin in Iowa down to her becoming increasingly unhinged. There, she presented herself as a bisexual, which as far as we can tell was not true at all. But she went to gay and lesbian meetings and told people she was a psychologist with extensive experience in counseling. I'm sorry, she did what?

She told them she was a psychologist with extensive experiencing counseling at gay and lesbian groups. Wowies, that is absolutely batshit bananas. This woman is one for the books. One of the people who came to her for counseling was a lady named Mo Hanley, and in an early session, Jill fished for a specific reaction. How would you feel if someone raped your daughter, Jill asked. I'd kill him, Mo said. That was the response Jill wanted. And it just goes to show how little Jill knows about humans.

Because that's like the baseline answer for anybody. Yeah, I'd fucking kill him. Oh, my God. But at their next session, she told Mo an awful story. Jill's boyfriend had recently died in a car wreck and his five-year-old daughter was living with an aunt where she was being sexually abused by a male relative. This male relative was a tall mustached hardware store owner in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. With that little preamble, Jill asked Mo to kill him. Mo was like, what the fuck? No.

Then Jill asked if Mo knew where she could get a hold of an untraceable gun, and Mo decided the session was over and all future ones too. Good for her. Good God. And again, like, how disgusting is this? Like she's going to meetings for, you know, a group of people. who tend to be vulnerable to start with and offering counseling services, and this is what she does. Jeez, Louise. So I don't know exactly what Jill was thinking here, but it looks like she'd somehow gotten it into her head that lesbians can be easily goaded into assassination. And when that turned out

not to be the case, she was right back where she'd started. She and Michael had completely failed to find a hitman or woman. Womp, womp, womp. They just, just have to do it themselves. And that just about brings us around to where we started this story. On Thursday, October 21st, Jerry closed his cash register at the hardware store at around 1 p.m. said goodbye to the other people working in the store and left. The next day, he didn't show up, didn't call in. That just didn't happen. Even at his lowest ebb in all the drama with Jill, he never just skipped work. His brother Douglas was worried and tried to call Jerry. When he got no response, he went over to his brother's house and found him beaten bloody and dead on the kitchen floor.

The first detective who responded to the scene was Rick Kroats. Crots had been a cop for 14 years, and the first half of that had been with the San Diego PD, so he was more familiar with violent crime scenes than most officers in sleepy little steamboat springs. He checked to make sure Jerry was dead. He was room temperature cold, had no pulse, and his eyes were glazed. not only was he dead, it looked like he'd been that way for a while. There was a gash on his forehead, maybe caused by a bullet. A hole in the back of Jerry's blue parco looked like another shot.

His hands and face were bruised and cut. A big pool of blood was under Jerry's head and spatter was all over the floor and walls. It's sound familiar, by the way. Remember the first murder? There were burn marks on the side of his head that looked like wounds from a stun gun. Close to the body were a plastic bag, a wooden-handled shovel, and a small caliber slug all smeared with blood. The smears on the shovel handle looked like they'd been made by fingers, but without prints, whoever had made them had worn gloves. Two more gunshot wounds were found on Jerry's body.

He'd been stunned, badly beaten, apparently with the shovel, and had defensive injuries on his hands. His wallet hadn't been stolen and still had two hundred and six. $60 in it. Officers canvassed the neighborhood, and they soon spoke to Jerry's neighbor Debbie. The morning before, she'd seen two weird people walking along Hillside Court West, one short and one tall, bundled up in heavy jackets despite the warm fall weather. The street was a cul-de-sac, and not somewhere people wandered through on their way to somewhere else, but what made this pair really stick out in Debbie's mind was that the shorter one was very obviously a woman, a fake bushy mustache and a fake ponytail under her baseball cap.

She hadn't made much effort beyond that to disguise herself. Even under the heavy jacket, her boobs were obvious and she didn't try to change her walk at all. In fact, as she watched that walk, Debbie noticed that the woman had a noticeably flat ass, something that many people had also happened to notice about Jill Coit. Flat ass. Like, okay, no offense to my little booty queens out there. But if I was identified by my noticeable lack of badonk, I would have to try and drown myself in the hot springs.

I can't. I got to that part of the story. I was speechless. Well, it's like identifying is you like big butts and you cannot lie. Yeah. Yeah. No, I just think it's really, really funny. Because, like, has anyone ever been identified by little boobies?

I don't think so. I think that might be the first time I've ever heard. Somebody being identified by their little flat ass. Are you kidding me? It's so funny. Oh, my God. A bushy mustache. Flat ass.

And a baseball cap. Oh, my God. This woman. Jerry's autopsy showed him. he'd been shot three times with small-caliber ammunition, all the shots on a slight upward trajectory, two in the back and one in the chest. Either Jerry had been taller than his killer, or he'd been shot while lying down with them standing over him. Given that he'd been shot on different sides of his body, he'd have to have been rolled over if he'd been shot on the floor.

A shorter killer was more likely. Douglas Boggs told police all about his brother's messy separation from Jill, and they had other reasons to focus on her, too. The next day, the Boggs family lawyer and his wife had just left Douglas's house when a bright red sports car passed them. Jill's car was unmistakable, and as it passed, both the lawyer and his wife saw Jill behind the wheel, quote, wearing a big, fat, bushy mustache, and wearing a baseball cap turned backwards. Now, y'all, this is the day after the murder. And she's just tolling around in this, small town where everybody knew her still in her disguise. Not only are you a skank, my girl, but you are a dumb skank at that. Are we sure she wasn't

in Mensa? Because I feel like she's the time to be in Mensa. Jill and Michael had a dubious alibi. On the night of Jerry's murder, they were camping in the mountains at Kelly Flats about halfway between Steamboat Springs and Greeley. They didn't actually have much in the way of proof of that, and the alibi became essentially worthless when forensic analysis of Jerry's stomach revealed he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He'd been killed not long after he'd left the hardware store, giving his killers plenty of time to run up to the mountains afterwards. Jill didn't exactly make herself less suspicious when she ran off to Mexico in the middle of the investigation,

but they knew exactly when she was on her way back because her youngest son, Billy, told them. Jill's youngest two sons were shocked when they realized their mom was the prime suspect, Jerry's murder, and Billy started questioning the death of his own father, Clark Coyt. Jill had always stuck to the story that Billy's dad had died of a heart attack. Now Billy called his uncle, Clark's brother, and got the truth out of him, that Clark had been shot to death in an unsolved murder. My mom did it, didn't she? Billy said. So he didn't have many qualms about ratting her out. Damn, poor kid, I cannot even imagine. And it's interesting how often and we see this in the cases we cover,

where the kids will absolutely believe their parent is guilty. Somewhere in his mind, either consciously or unconsciously, he knew what his mother was. Hmm. Mm-hmm. On December 23rd, two months after Jerry Boggs' murder, Michael and Jill pulled up in a rental car in front of her house in Greeley. They were immediately sworn by police, and in moments had their hands on the roof of the car,

like spread as the cops patted them down. Then they were handcuffed on first-degree murder charges and taken away. Jill and Michael were both found guilty of first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit first-degree murder. All three of Jill's sons testified against her. The testimony of Seth, who Jill and Michael had repeatedly tried to hire as a hitman, was especially brutal. On the afternoon of Jerry's death at around four, Seth said his mom had called him and said, hey baby, it's over and it's messy. Oh my.

Seth told her not to talk to him and slam down the receiver. Jill and Michael were both sentenced to life without parole. Jill has never been prosecuted for the murder of her husband, Clark Coyt, whose name she always kept for some reason. You want to know why? Because the Houston PD lost the murder file. Just lost it. Yeah.

All the evidence gone. Mm-hmm. So there was no way to investigate her any further or bring her to trial, but a lot of people believe she's guilty of that murder, too. Yeah, I agree with them. There's an old episode of American Justice about Jill's case, and they actually got to interview her in prison, where she told the producer she was having a tough time in prison. She was lonely, she said. And then she spoke what might be the most astonishing sentence ever spoken in human history. She said, quote, all of a sudden, quote, I'm this bad person because I committed a murder. It's embarrassing and humiliating. I don't even know what to say to that except, oh my God, shut your pie hole, you unhinged bitch.

You commit a brutal murder, too, in my opinion, and that's your takeaway. Everybody's just making such a big deal about this. It's embarrassing. Yeah, brave opinion time. I think murder is one of the crimes that makes you a bad person if you do it. I've just put it in it out there. I know. Strong take. It's a bold stand, but you're sticking to it. Yeah, yeah. I think more than anything else in this story, and there's a lot to choose from, this tells us what we need to know about Jill Coit.

And tells us that she needs to stay right where she is in an 8 by 10 cell with no chance to mingle with the rest of us. Now, before we go, don't forget about our two amazing live shows coming up. First we've got summer camp, September 10th through 13th, an amazing four-day festival in Equinunk, Pennsylvania, hosted by Dan and Lindsay Cummins of Time Suck and Scared to Death. Both of those podcasts are amazing. We'll be performing live alongside them and the podcast, Astonishing Legends, in addition to a roster of awesome stand-up comedians and local bands. Go to Bad Magic Productions.com for more info and to buy tickets. Then we've got our True Crime Cruise, Crime Wave 2.0, 5.5.5.

February 8th through 12th, 2027. If you want to come on vacation with us and some of the biggest true crime and paranormal podcasts in the world, like case file, true crime garage, last podcast on the left and scared to death, here's what you got to do. Tickets are on sale now and they're going fast. So if you want to go, make sure you get over to crime wave at c.com slash campfire and book your cabin ASAP. You'll get $100 off plus a private meet and greet with us. The great thing is you can pay all at once or set up a payment plan and pay it off over time. So get on it, Jall. That's CrimeWaveatC.com slash campfire. 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 as always, we want to send a grateful shout out to a few of our lovely Patreon supporters. Thank you so much to Jen, Chelsea, Michael, Scarlett, Chrissy and Jelly. We appreciate y'all to the moon and back. And if you're not yet a patron, you are missing out. Patrons of our show get every episode ad free, at least a day early, sometimes more, plus tons of extra content, like patrons-only episodes and hilarious post-show discussions. And once you join the $5 and up categories, you get even more cool stuff. A free sticker, a rat enamel pin or fridge magnet while supplies last, virtual events with Katie and me, and we're always looking for new stuff to do for you. So if you can, come join us at patreon.com slash true crime campfire.

Goodbye, Kyle. Did the sound of those words call to you like Pavlov's dog? Then you might enjoy our podcast, Turtle Time. Every week you can join me, Riley Hamilton, and my co-host, Amy Scarletta, as we cover the most pressing Bravo news and dig into the new episodes to answer important questions like, who the hell is Adrian Maloof in this world? Listen to Turtle Time on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Wednesday and Friday. There are names that echo in the world of true crime, names that carry unanswered questions. Oakley Carlson, a five-year-old girl who deserved safety, protection, in love. Yet the system built to protect her failed, and Oakley disappeared. Her community still calls her name.

Or Ellen Greenberg found in her locked apartment with 20 stab wounds. A case declared a suicide. But how does a locked apartment tell two different stories at once? These are not just cases we have covered. They are people. They were loved and they mattered. Their stories deserve to be told with care, with depth, with truth. I'm Ashley. And I'm Ricky.

We are the husband and white duo behind crime salad. Every week we uncover stories of the missing, the silence, the misunderstood. We ask the questions that were left behind. We refuse to let these stories before. forgotten. Because behind every case is a family holding on a community seeking answers and a story that deserves to be heard. We invite you to listen to Crime Salad. Your healthy portion of true crime wherever you get your podcasts.