Freeway Phantom - Introducing The Estate

Episode Date: September 14, 2023

In the early evening on New Year’s Eve, in 1973, a 34 year old man was found bleeding to death on a downtown street in Stockton, California. In his dying moments, he named the men behind his murder: Calvin Jones and Rosalio Estrada. 50 years later, Rosalio’s son, Alex Estrada sets off to find out if his father was actually involved in the murder.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The system's broken. I said something's wrong here, you know, whenever a woman is allowed to kill my two kids. Unrestorable is a new true crime podcast that investigates the case of Catherine Hoggel, a mother accused of murder. Despite signs that Catherine Hoggel took her tiny children one by one into the night, never to come home again. She has yet to stand trial. Listen to Unrestorable on the I Heart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. 13 days of Halloween pennants. Season four of the award-winning horror fiction

podcast presented in immersive 3D audio. If I am under arrest, you have to tell me what I'm charged with. Starring Natalie Morales of Parks and Recreation and Dead To Me. Please, spend some kind of mistake. I'm not supposed to be here. How do you know? I'm innocent. Are any of us truly innocent?

From earring October 19th, ending Halloween. Listen to 13 Days of Halloween on the I Heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hello. You have found this episode here because we want to introduce you to our new series. I heart radio app Apple podcasts over ever you get your podcasts. Hello, you have found this episode here because we want to introduce you to our new series, the estate from Sonoro and Tinderfoot TV. My name is Alex Estrada, and this is the story of my family. The estate is a true crime documentary podcast series about a burning question that has haunted me for the past 20 years.

Was my father involved in the murder of his business partner? A murder mystery, political conspiracy, and family memoir, touching on race, the justice system, and a pain that moves from one generation to the next. Listen to the first episode now. If you enjoy it, look for the estate wherever you get your podcasts. In the early evening on New Year's Eve, in 1973, a 34-year-old man was found leading to death on the street, with multiple bullet wounds to his chest, stomach, and leg. He was rushed to Malnorth, the St. Joseph's hospital, but died hours later in surgery. This man was Anthony Virgilio, Tony to his friends.

He was found in Fremont Square, a park in downtown Stockton, which at the time was a busy place. in downtown Stockton, which at the time was a busy place. Blocked away from the waterfront promenade, downtown was the heart of Stockton's business in entertainment. At rush hour, you'd often see people in suits, carrying briefcases, walking to work, and call office buildings. But that night, three months' square was vacant. It was rainy, and offices and restaurants were closed. Nobody does business on New Year's Eve.

Nobody except Tony Virgilio. According to Stockton Police, in his dying moments, Tony told them that he had come downtown for a meeting with his former business partner, Calvin Jones. Calvin Jones would spend 30 years in prison for Tony's murder, and for 30 years Calvin Jones would call my, and talk to Calvin for hours. And I always wondered, what was happening in there? What were they talking about? What did my dad have to say to a convicted murderer? From Sonoro and partnership with Tinderfoot TV, I'm Alex Astrada and this is The Estate. I'll never forget giving the eulogy at my dad's funeral.

The servicetic place at the Annunciation Cathedral. It's a big, gothic Catholic church on Rose Street in Stockton, California. Just four blocks away from the house where I grew up. I'd been to this church before, but this was my first time in the front queue, which, for this occasion, was reserved for a close family. The folks who were truly grieving. And that's where I was, along with my mom and my six siblings. My dad, Rosalio Estrada, Rosie to his friends, came from a huge Mexican family.

So his brothers and sisters, their kids and grandkids all showed up. The place was packed. It was like a midnight mass in the middle of a summer day. I could feel myself sweating through my suit as I waited to go up to the pulpit. In true strata fashion, my dad wasn't even at his own funeral. His remains didn't get cremated on time. They arrived a week later and set my sister's Honda for six months after that. So there I was, giving the last words for a guy who wasn't even there.

But I did my best to capture who he was. Dad called himself the Maestro, the boss. Because that's what he considered himself, the conductor, the guy calling the shots, the one with a vision. And although the Maestro is no longer with us, I concluded. He certainly left his mark on the world, his city, and his family. I made it back to the pew, trying to catch my breath between heaving sobs. I still have the eulogy, but when I read it now, it makes me cringe. Not because it was poorly written or badly delivered, but because I didn't really like my dad.

I don't think he was a great person. Maybe not even a good person. I also don't know very much about his life. And it feels like those are two rules for giving you eulogy. You know the person, and you have good things to say about them. And what I didn't tell people, as I stood at the pulpit of that gothic cathedral, looking out at everyone who would love my father, was that for a long time I had a sinking feeling that my dad had someone killed. When I was a kid, my parents taught me to answer the phone the same way most people learned.

Phone rings, you pick it up, ask who's calling, then you take a message or you hand it to the person they want to talk to. Pretty simple stuff. But there was one phone call that we had to answer differently. I have a collect call from... Calvin Jones. An inmate at a San Bernardino County detention facility. When Calvin Jones called, you were going to take the phone straight to dad.

Calvin called about once a month, sometimes once a week. My dad would always accept the charges and usually take the call in another room. One day, when I was about 10, I was walking up to the house and I heard the phone and talked to him. The call was short. I said Dad wasn't home,

but that I'd let him know Calvin called. He thanked me and hung up. But by that time, the answering machine had already started recording and caught everything. That evening, my dad called me into the living room and played the message, and I got a sinking feeling in my stomach in the sense that I had messed up big time. Dad looked at me with cold eyes and then told me in a low, stern voice that if he wasn't

home when Calvin called, I was to hang up. Do not talk to the man who was calling. He told me. My dad was an imposing guy, especially to me, a 10-year-old kid. He loomed over me and had a face like granite. He was born with a hair-lip, and his nose was crooked from being broken a few times. Dad used to brag to me in my siblings about fights he had gotten into as the younger guy. I remember him telling me once

that there was no greater satisfaction than the feeling of a guy's mouth collapsing when you hit him in the jaw. He had no qualms about being threatening or violent, even with his own kids. So I did what dad told me, and that's the way it went for many years. But the calls never stopped. I still had questions.

Who was Calvin Jones? How did he know my father? Why was he calling our house from prison? I didn't get any answers until I was 15. I asked my old sister, who is this guy who keeps calling? She gave me the clip notes. Calvin was dad's best friend. And before I was born, he and dad were put on trial for killing their business partner, Tony Virgilio, the man who was found in Fremont Square on New Year's Eve 1973, and Calvin was convicted. My dad accused of murder. For 15-year-old me, this was the definition of an O-shit moment. On the one hand, the idea of my father being a killer never occurred to me.

Even with my complicated feelings towards him, it seemed impossible. But once the shock wore off, I thought, maybe it wasn't so crazy. Either way, I had to know more. So that night at dinner, I straight up asked my dad about the case. And he didn't seem entirely phased by the question. I mean, he probably figured that one day, his kids would want to know more about the strange phone calls from prison. So he took a breath and talked for what felt like an hour. By the time he finished, my mom and siblings had cleared the plates from the table. There were no pauses. No room for questions, just the story of what

he said happened. As Dad explained it, he and Calvin were partners in a construction business with this guy, Tony, who died under mysterious circumstances. Calvin and my dad were the immediate suspects, but according to my dad, it had less to do with the evidence and more to do with what they represented to the powerful people in Stockton. Dad said the police had no evidence, except for an insurance policy, which he didn't want to begin with.

There was no murder weapon, no eyewitnesses, no direct evidence tying him or Calvin to Tony's death. Calvin had been convicted by rumors. The whole thing was a racially motivated witch hunt. According to Dad, they were innocent. That night at dinner, I remember being spellbound. I came away both awestruck and afraid. And all that something so insane could have happened to someone so close to me, and

afraid because it felt, well, like my dad was dangerous. As an adult, I kept coming back to my dad's story and comparing it to what I knew about him. A guy who was violent, a guy who held grudges, a guy who kept secrets, who stayed in bed until noon, didn't have a job, and drove junky cars. Honestly, he wasn't important enough to be framed for murder. So each time I thought back on his side of the story, I grew more suspicious. To the point where, for most of my life, I believed that he got away with murder, which brings us back to the eulogy.

And this feeling that my dad was not a good guy, that the impression others had of him was a sham. And there I was, in a church in front of everyone, contributing to that lie. And although the Maestro is no longer with us, he certainly left his mark on the world, his city, and his family. My dad died nearly a decade ago, but questions about the case have stuck with me. And at a certain point, I realized I needed to put my suspicions to rest, along with my dad. And the only way I can do that is by getting to the truth of what happened on New Year's Eve, 1973.

Of course, that's daunting. I'm an attorney and a television writer. I've lived in New York City for the past two decades and haven't spent much time in Stockton since my parents died. So when it came to piecing together my dad's part in a 50-year-old homicide, I had no idea where to begin. So I hired a journalist, Angelina Mosher Salazar, an investigative reporter with experience and podcasting

in Roots and Stockton, just like me. I needed someone to track down the people involved in my dad's case, and Angelina had an act for that. All right, so right now, what I have from you is Randy, of course Calvin, Calvin's lawyer, Brian, Calvin's son, Francesca. For months we met through Zoom and talked about my dad's story, about the key players and where to find them.

After a couple of weeks, we were ready to start interviewing. We decided to meet at the place where this all started, my hometown. So, in the middle of summer, I packed my bags and left the comfort of my Brooklyn apartment for my sister's spare bedroom in Northern California, where she lives with her dog, Scrappy, who I found out the hard way was not supposed to go outside. Hello. Hello. How's it going? You know the dog. You know, Shaddo. Hi, sweetie. Oh, Shrappy.

Is that bad? That's crappy right now. That's not a good. OK, you go get Shrappy. I'll hold that shadow. Don't worry. Shrappy was safely recovered, though he did bite me when I caught him.

We started by laying out everything I knew about the case, which wasn't much. So we turned to my siblings. Surely one of them would know something about Dad's involvement in this whole mess. There's just like this shroud of mystery over like Dad and his dealings and like, even what he did every day, you know. But his trial, we were very sheltered. We never talked to him really about it.

It's been this thing that's been like hanging over our family for a long time in a sort of weird way. Not much to go on there either. Clearly, dad wasn't an open book with any of us. And even though no one in the family had information to go on, they all agreed on the one person who would. The man at the center of the story. The voice on the other end of those calls from prison, Calvin Jones. So we went to see him.

This is exciting, I love being in the field. I love it. There's like nothing that gives me more joy than being in the field. Did I have the same level of enthusiasm? It's being investigating a murder in my hometown in the middle of a heat wave in August? Get me the fuck out of this county.

The answer is no. But if this is what it takes to get answers about my dad and his past, what choice did I have? Calvin Jones lives in South Stockton, not far from where he and my dad opened their first door. The sun is baking the sidewalk as we step out of the car

towards an Adobe house behind a chain-link fence. We sat down to talk to the man who served 30 years in prison for crime he says he didn't do, but whose answers left us wanting more. Who is Calvin Jones and what's his side of the story? That's after the break. I noticed Jacob is not in his crib, so I look in and say, if she's not there, I'm like, okay, they're not there. Unrestorable is a new true crime podcast that investigates the case of Catherine Hoggel,

a mother accused of murder. I'm thinking, you know, like, what's going on? Like, this is insane. Like, where are my kids? But despite signs that Catherine Hoggel took her tiny children one by one into the night, never to come home again, She has yet to stand trial. Because soon after her children went missing, she was declared incompetent to stand trial.

You know, when I would ask her her engagement was up in the bodies of remaining confidence. And then I would say, well, who advised you should throw you know, I can't tell you that. In Maryland, if the defendant is found incompetent and can't be restored to competency, their felony charges are dismissed after five years. So as the clock counts down, Catherine's charges on the verge of being dismissed will or wherever you get your podcasts. What is this place?

Wait, why my handcuffed? What am I doing here? 13 days of Halloween, Penance. Season 4 of the award-winning horror fiction podcast presented in immersive 3D audio. Where am I? Why, this is the Pendleton. All residents, please return to your habitations. Lights up! On your feet! You're new here, so I'll say it once.

No talking. Starring Natalie Morales of Parks and Recreation and Dead to Me. Am I under arrest? We don't like to use that word. Can I leave of my own free will? Not at this time. So this is a prison then? No, it's a rehabilitation center.

Premiering October 19th, ending Halloween. I'm gonna get out. And how may I ask, or are you going to do that? Escape. Listen to 13 days of Halloween on the I Heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. For the last 20 years, I thought about Calvin Jones, the man who called my house regularly from prison, my father's best friend and former business partner, and the man who says he spent 30 years behind bars for a crime he didn't commit.

Growing up, I always wanted to learn more about the case and what had happened before I was born. But, as I mentioned before, my dad and I had a pretty strained relationship. I carried a lot of resentment when I left Stockton, and it never really led up. From then on, my dad and I rarely talked, except for holidays, birthdays, that kind of thing. And then he died, which didn't exactly do wonders for our communication. My dad died in 2012, one year before Calvin was released from prison. When I heard he was out, I was shocked. He'd been given a life sentence, but this opened a door.

I had always hoped that one day Calvin and I would talk about the story, He'd been given a life sentence, but this opened a door. I had always hoped that one day Calvin and I would talk about the story, have a real conversation, man to man, about what happened that night. But I put it off for years. And to be honest, I was scared. I was scared to know the answer, scared of what it would bring up in me. But time was slipping away. Dad was gone.

If I waited any longer, I had lost Calvin, too. Talking to Calvin was my only chance at figuring out what happened between him, dad, and Tony almost 50 years ago. Had dad been part of a murder plot, or the victim of an unjust system? So that's what brings me and Angelina to Calvin's house. The first thing I noticed about Calvin is that he's tall, at least 6'3". He's dressed comfortably in a sweatshirt and jeans. Calvin is pushing 80, but he doesn't

give the impression of a guy slowing down. I shake his hand, and it's strong. Despite his large stature, his demeanor is gentle. Grandfatherly, his voice is soft, almost zen-like. We move into the dining room and the interview begins. With Calvin telling us about how we met my dad in the late 1960s. At the time, both of them were in their mid-20s. They had started families and were working sort of dead in jobs. Calvin, at the county housing authority, and dad and an army depot just outside of town. They found each other through their interest in politics and local activism. That's when we started picketing. We used to go picket, farmers out here with Caesar Chavez, the laws were to man-roat that we marched in all those kind of things.

You heard that right. Caesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta, two people at the forefront of California's labor rights movement. Calvin and Rosie were movers and shakers wanting to make a big change for their community, but they also wanted to make money. Lots of it. I just thought it was a delicious black and brown in this valley. That was one of our, you know, I mean, that was one of our goals to achieve something that

other brown and blacks could actually see being done in this because we were the only one doing things at that time. From what Calvin tells me, he and my dad wanted to upset the city's power dynamics. So in the early 1970s, they decided to become business partners. With a loan from the small business administration, they started off with liquor stores. They opened their first one in 1971. Within a year, they opened another location, with plans for a third store. And from there, they decided to go into construction,

which is where they would meet Tony Virgileo. The man Calvin was convicted of murdering. Oh, I met Tony Virgileo from some other people within the construction business and do his reputation as a worker. That's how he came about. That's how he got started. and do his reputation as a worker. That's how he came about. That's how we got started. Calvin says Tony brought the construction experience

to the table, but more importantly, he brought a contractor's license, which they needed to operate the construction business. With Tony's skills, Calvin's business sense and my dad's brain, they were ready to take over Stockton. They had big plans to change the face of the city and make a place for themselves at the head of the table. Calvin and my dad were young and cocky

and they weren't gonna take shit from anyone. And Calvin says, that rub Stockton's wide establishment the wrong way. Well, you gotta understand, during that time, no other blacks and browns, was stand up to these people and say thanks to them. People say we was too uppity high up without order. I should mention here that in the 1970s, Stockton's business class was overwhelmingly white.

My dad being Mexican and Calvin being black, they would have stuck out like sore thumbs. And they weren't shy about letting everybody know they wanted to run things. Their ambition brought them together as friends. We didn't feel able to nothing that we couldn't do. Period. I mean, if they were doing what we could do, I'm better.

As we talk, I notice how every time Calvin mentions my dad, he gets somber. I get the sense that he's saying things that he never could have told my dad and person. Well, he was honest and loyal and he was a person that cared about humanity, I would say. You know, he cared about people who cared about situations. That's what I admired about it. Sitting in Calvin's dining room, caring him to talk about my dad this way, I feel embarrassed. Because my experience was almost totally opposite. I think if I felt half of what Calvin told me was true, about my dad being an honest, loyal man who cared about humanity, I might not have questioned whether my dad was guilty of murder.

I also wonder how one person can be so drastically different to two people. As Calvin spoke, I felt like I was internally fact checking him. He was a person that loves his family. Debatable. He loved his kids. Doubtful. He loved politics. Okay, that one I can agree with.

But the conclusion from all this? He was just a basically a good person. Now that I couldn't get behind. It's obvious at this point that he and I experienced Rosalie Oestrata in vastly different ways. I noticed Jacob is not in his crib. So I look in and say,

oh, she's not there, so I'm like, okay, they're not there. Unrestorable is a new true crime podcast that investigates the case of Catherine Hoggel, a mother accused of murder. I'm thinking, you know, like, what's going on? Like, this is insane. Like, where are my kids? But despite signs that Catherine Hoggel took her tiny children one by one into the night, never to come home again,

she has yet to stand trial. Because soon after her children went missing, she was declared incompetent to stand trial. You know, when I would ask her, her engagement was up in the bodies of remaining confidence. And then I would say, well, who advised you should throw you know, I can't tell you that. In Maryland, if the defendant is found incompetent

and can't be restored to competency, their felony charges are dismissed after five years. So as the clock counts down, Catherine's charges on the verge of being dismissed will a grieving dad ever get justice. Listen to unrestaurable on the I Heart app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. What is this place?

Wait, why my handcuffed? What am I doing here? 13 days of Halloween, Penance. Season 4 of the award-winning horror fiction podcast presented in immersive 3D audio. Where am I? Why, this is the Pendleton. All residents, please return to your habitations. Like stuff on your feet!

You're new here, so I'll say it once. No talking. Starring Natalie Morales of Parks and Recreation and Dead To Me. Am I under arrest? We don't like to use that word. Can I leave of my own free will? Not at this time. So this is a prison then?

No. It's a rehabilitation center. Premiering October 19th, ending Halloween. I'm gonna get out. And how may I ask, or are you going to do that? Escape. Listen to 13 days of Halloween on the I Heart Radio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your

podcasts. Calvin Cs Rosey is the loyal best friend and savvy business partner. I see him as an abusive and violent man, who selfishness hurt his wife and kids. Is it possible that my dad was hiding his true self from Calvin? That he hid those darker aspects of his personality from his best friend? Maybe Calvin only speaks to the good and rosy because that's what rosy showed him. My dad could be charismatic, but it's also possible that Calvin isn't telling me the truth about my father and knows it. Maybe he doesn't want to speak ill of the dead.

Or maybe he thinks revealing the truth would taint his innocence. And another thought. If they were such good friends, why did my dad keep Calvin a secret from us? Calvin's explanation was simple. The murder trial destroyed my dad. I think a lot of that probably came from the fact that his whole persona, his whole desires was killed off when he got charged. His whole demeanor changed changed. I seen a big change in them because when you out and you have notoriety from the community that you work in in the community and doing all this

stuff in the community and he did want to be a big time builder, you know, he had aspirations of doing a lot of good stuff. That stopped all that just to charge himself, stopped that. People got afraid of it. Who used to be so-called friend, but they, once you get charged, everything changes. Bankers stop dealing with you. But before that, I never seen that part of him before. All this happened. Now, he might have had it pinned up in it,

but I doubt it goes with it together a lot. I mean, that makes a big difference in a person's life. When Calvin is staying here here gave me pause. I had this hunch that my dad was involved in murder, that he was guilty of the crime as charged. I thought that because of the dad I knew, the one I grew up with, a man who was quick to anger and violence, but now the person who spent 30 years in prison for the crime is saying no. They were both innocent. And the fact that my dad had to live knowing

his best friend went away for a crime he didn't commit. That destroyed him. It took away his goals, his dreams, his reputation, and his best friend. Is it possible that the man I knew was depressed and angry because of a wrongful conviction for being the victim of a political conspiracy? I tell Calvin my truth that for the majority of my life, I didn't believe my dad's story. I thought my dad was guilty. Dad's story. I thought my dad was guilty. I only had access to the case through my interactions with him that weren't positive. Like my sense was that he had been involved.

I felt that he had orchestrated or been part of a plan to kill Tony Virgileo. The things I experienced and saw, my feeling was that he was a person capable of killing someone else and killing someone else for money. No, I don't think he had a lot of love with Tony Bajillo, but as far as him planning to have him kill now. Calvinism faced.

He is unwavering in his and my dad's innocence. My father had a saying that he would repeat to me in my siblings. Protect yourself at all times. It's the advice referees give to boxers at the beginning of every fight. Be alert. Keep your guard up. Don't open yourself up to getting hurt. I must have heard those words 10,000 times growing up, and I repeat them to myself still,

even today. So I thought to myself, would I be making a mistake in trusting Calvin's version? By accepting this view of my dad as an honest and loyal person, was I opening myself up to getting hurt. If Calvin and my dad maintained their innocence, exactly how did they end up being charged for the murder? What was the actual evidence against them? How is it that Dad went home and Calvin went to jail? For that, we needed the police reports, the facts of what happened. And though Calvin himself didn't offer up a ton of new information about the case, he did give us something we hadn't seen yet.

If you want to go to a whole lot of police reports, I mean that would be a lot of fun. Actually if there's a time that works, where are they? That's Stagg right there. Stagg on the floor. Oh my god. Yeah, I think we can, we can take them with us. I don't have anything that I have work, but other than that, yeah sure I'd love to. Do you have like a little box or something

that I can take them out? A shoebox or a bag or something, even? I just want to keep them all together. We've packed hundreds of documents into a plastic box, sealed the lid, instead of good buys to Calvin. Ugh. Man. All right, well, I walked away with a big pile of documents.

That's always fun. I honestly was like, maybe the most exciting part I walked away with a big pile of documents. That's always fun. I honestly was like, maybe the most exciting part is getting these. In a way, just having more stuff to sort of pour through, things that I haven't read before. When a parent dies, they always leave something behind to their kids. Often it's money, a house, or some kind of heirloom. Sometimes it's bills or debts. Other times it's just a body.

Literally, their remains. But when my dad died, he left behind a question. Was he responsible for killing Tony Virgilio? The box of documents we got from Calvin seemed like the best place to start. I began pouring through volumes of police reports and court transcripts, and stumbled upon the first big discovery of our investigation. The last words of Tony Virgilio, who, in his dying moments, named the men behind his murder,

Calvin Jones and Rosalio Estrada. But that's next time, on the estate. The estate was produced by Sonoro and partnership with Tinderfoot TV, hosted by me, Alex Estrada and Angelina Mosier Salazar. Reported by Angelina Mosier Salazar. Investigated by Angelina Mosier Salazar, Alex Estrada and Evelyn Urbay. Written by Angelina Mosier Salazar and Alex Estrada. With help from Evelyn Urbay and Carlos Aeronado. Edited by Ross Tarell and Jasmine Romero.

Fact check by Sarah Moda and Evelyn Uribe. Mixed in sound design by Manuel Paura and Daniel Padilla. Engineering by Josh Hahn, Sam Bear and Brett Tuban at the Relic Room in New York City. Original music by Ernesto Aguire. Our theme song is by Marcus Bagala. Executive produced by Alex Estrada. by Ernesto Aguire. Our theme song is by Marcus Bagala, executive produced by Alex Estrada.

From Sonoro, executive producers are Joshua Weinstein and Camila Victoriano. From Tinderfoot TV, executive producers are Donald Albright and Payne Lindsay. Special thanks to Lisa Pollock, Sarah Boannon, Christian Yatar, Rodrigo Crespo, Carmen Grathedro and Adriana Broger. The system's broken. I said something's wrong here, you know, whenever a woman is allowed to kill my two kids. Unrestorable is a new true crime podcast that investigates the case of Catherine Hoggel,

a mother accused of murder. Despite signs that Catherine Hoggel took her tiny children one by one into the night, never to come home again. She has yet to stand trial. Listen to Unrestorable on the I Heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. 13 days of Halloween Penance Season 4 of the award-winning horror fiction podcast presented in immersive 3D audio.

If I am under arrest, you have to tell me what I'm charged with. Starring Natalie Morales of Parks and Recreation and Dead To Me. Please, you've been some kind of mistake. I'm not supposed to be here. How do you know? I'm innocent. Are any of us truly innocent? Primering October 19th, ending Halloween. Listen to 13 Days of Halloween on the IHART Radio App, Apple podcasts, or wherever you

get your podcasts.