My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 167

Episode Date: March 23, 2020

This week’s hometowns include serial killers and a Tulsa race massacre survivor story.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This is exactly right. We at Wondery live, breathe, and downright obsess over true crime. And now we're launching the ultimate true crime fan experience, Exhibit C. Join now by following Wondery, Exhibit C, on Facebook and listen to true crime on Wondery and Amazon Music. Exhibit C, it's truly criminal. Hello and welcome to my favorite murder, the mini-soad, remote edition. That's right.

First time we're not recording face to face, we're now Skype to Skype. We're Skype to Skype, but there's an energy loss, there's an energy crevasse that is what we're all dealing with in this here global pandemic. That's right. I'm sitting in my haunted closet right now, surrounded by my beautiful clothes that I'm not going to wear outside for who knows how long. Not anytime soon. No.

That's fine. You can steam every single blouse that you own. That's right. From the 50s. It's okay. Everyone has it worse than you. So no complaining. No, you know what?

You can complain, but you have to step into this closet to complain. You have to sit under that bizarre hat box that you're wearing. That's it. It looks like you work at Hot Dog on a Stick. The colors are off, but it's very colorful. It's insane. Okay. This is the complaint closet.

George is in the complaint closet. I'm at the office with Stephen, because Stephen and I just recorded, Do You Need a Ride? So we're rolling the dice and staying together for the moment, but I'm going to then have- I'm obviously a lot more scared than you. Well, no, no, no. That's not true. I think the cautiousness is the way to go from all the scientific stuff that we're all reading.

Here's what I love. It's when people are like, they're the experts. Like, look, we're all reading the same article, so calm the fuck down. It's we're all stuck to our phones in the same way. Unless you have a best friend that's a doctor or one step away, I don't want to fucking hear it. No. What's the-

Just stay in your house. Who gives a shit? No one. You don't need to do stuff. If you're some weird workout person and lay on the ground and do some planks, shut up. You're fine. You're not better than us. We did this by necessity because we had to record that podcast in the car and then I

was like, can we just roll in and sneak in a couple before? I love it. But the full episode that we do this week of My Favorite Murder is going to be full on from each other's houses. That's right. We're doing it. Send us your fucking hurrays for the week. Oh, yes, please.

Like quarantine week. Let us know how it's going. What are the positive things that you've been coming across? Tips and tricks. I tweeted the one today, which is I washed all the windows in my house today and it felt amazing. I saw that. It was the best.

I've never done that. It really makes a huge difference because you don't realize, especially after the rain. Oh shit, it just rained. Well, anyway. It's raining right now. Anyway. But at least it's not all dirty. But then once you get, because you don't realize there's always this like coating of dust

on everything and when you make your windows clean, it feels good. We're figuring out so much about ourselves right now. I feel like. We're diving so deep. Yeah. We'll go deeper on the real episode. For now, we're going to do, you know, good old hometown, like nothing is wrong. Yeah.

And, you know, rest assured, there's stuff wrong. We'll tell you. These stories will remind you of that. That's right. Let's focus on what's wrong in other ways. Yeah. Okay. Oh, you want me to go first?

Of course. As per. Yep. This is, the subject line of this is, I survived a date with exclusively red flags. That's. Oh, my God. Okay. So it says, hi from Canada with no prompting.

I want to tell you about my worst date because it's basically an I survived story. I met a guy, Mike was it at a concert through mutual friends. I was deeply intoxicated and remember thinking he was very attractive. All caps for sure. He definitely smelled good and that helps. It really does. It does. A guy that smells good.

Man. It's not common. Those guys stink. Well, it's just that when they get cologne right, like, you know, anyway, Pontificate on that. It's just a lonely pandemic. That's all I'm saying. We exchanged numbers and a few days later set up a date via text.

I was going to his house for dinner. That's the first red flag right there. Oh yeah. That's not a good, don't do that. No, no. Public place, neutral space. I was going to his house for dinner and we were going to use the shooting range. Wow.

Wow. Listen, we're not trying to tell you that you're doing anything wrong by going, you know, we all make these choices. Sure. Best to follow. Listen to your friends. Yeah. Yeah.

Who did you consult on this date? Yeah. Pull the girls in for stuff like this. That's right. So her next sentence is now this is Canada and we really don't have a lot of guns. I've never even seen a gun in person, but new adventures, right? New adventures. Okay.

Kind of. I got to his house, an isolated bungalow in the woods in the middle of nowhere. No. Yeah. And as I shut my car door, I immediately realized I had locked my purse, keys and phone into the car. Oh fuck. Oh my God.

And he walked outside to meet me and I realized how thick my beer goggles had been. He was definitely not my type. That fucking cologne got me again. Oh, trick you. Yeah. I tell him that I just like my keys in the car and need to call CAA parentheses like you're AAA, which is hilarious, not the agency, not the high powered agency. And he just carries on as if I'd said nothing.

We're literally at our ninth red flag and it's, yeah, it's amazing. Yes. Three paragraphs in. Okay. We go to the quote gun range. It is all caps. A huge heap of toilets in the woods. Where did the toilets come from?

Is this what gun ranges are? Holy shit. At one point he mentioned how he could kill me out here and no one would hear anything. Oh God. You know, typical first date sexy banter. He did. Flirting. I mean, just growth.

He does not end up killing me in the toilet heap. However, he didn't really teach me how to use a gun and the recoil on his monster gun smashed my shoulder badly. We walk back to his house. I again say I need to call CAA and talk to my agent. He says definitely later he will call. I don't even pretend to enjoy myself and just alternate between sweating, nursing my shoulder and asking about a tow truck.

While he prepares dinner parentheses, which to be honest was actually very delicious. Oh, okay. So not all red flags. Yeah, plus one. He tells me about his abusive relationship with his mother and that the last time he saw her, he was holding a knife to her throat. I'm like. Oh my God.

I know. I'm like, haha. Wow. Sounds rough. Will you call that tow truck now? Many, many hours later, he finally lets me use his phone to call a tow truck. I raced. Wow.

Yeah. I raced the fuck out of there and despite the appeal of the toilet heap, racism and proudly violent attitude towards women declined a second date. I survived. You guys were right about staying out of the forest. Dating sucks and I'm so happy I'm now married to a dude who has never even suggested he may kill me in a toilet heap. As we say in Canada, bye, Megan.

Oh my God, thank God for Megan because we got the term toilet heap. Toilet heap. Thank you. Toilet heap. H-E-A-P. Yeah. Yeah. That's our new.

That's our new mascot. It's the toilet heap. As we say in Canada. Bye, guys. Bye. Megan, you killed it. That was a harrowing. Also here's the thing.

There's got to be some, yeah, this second, like it's such an unfortunate combination of things. I've locked my keys in my car so many times, but. That's awful. That guy had you. That's the worst part. He had you. That sucks.

Okay. I don't know anything. That totally sucks. Okay. I'm adjusting my levels even though I don't really know what that means. Okay. Okay. Thank you to Steven for dropping equipment off at my house without touching anything.

Right. Well, you don't know that. What, you don't know what he touched on that, on that equipment. Oh God. Oh, I mean, I don't tell him, but I fucking wiped everything down again. So we're good. You can absolutely hear you. Oh, shit.

Okay. Um, this one's just called hometown story. Okay. Greetings. Oh. In the late nineties to early 2000s, I was a young teen living in the outskirts of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. There was also a serial killer running loose at this time.

Yeah. The paranoid murder Reno that I was and still am was convinced he was stalking me and I was going to die. My mom worked in a bar. So I was a latchkey kid. So anytime I heard strange noises outside, I would call her freaked out. Do you remember how often you used to call your mom at work? Oh, yes.

When you were a latchkey kid? Yeah. In the mental hospital. Me and my sister be like, Laura won't give me the brush. She's like, I have other problems to deal with. I will kill you both when I get home. Um, the Baton Rouge serial killer was named Derek Todd Lee. He killed seven women between 1992 and 2003, although there are many others that are not

confirmed. This case was the first in history to use DNA to determine an unknown person's race. The details are quite interesting, but we will, we won't go down that rabbit hole. Lee was arrested in 2003. Wouldn't you know it? My mom recognized him, he used to come in and play $100 in her bars poker machine once a week. Oh, shit.

Uh-huh. Those barflies. Later in life, I also read a book called I've Been Watching You, which taught me that Lee was raised in the house in front of my family's small private cemetery. Your family has a fucking few of your own cemetery. Oh, bougie. Okay. Okay.

So, who's the royalty of, who's true crime royalty now? Your own cemetery. That's right. Yep. You guessed it. He played in our cemetery and climbed his trees, etc. Well, that's what I have. Stay sexy and keeping open about mental health.

I dig it. Love y'all, Tiff. Tiff with the private cemetery. Tiff. Tiff. The heiress to the gravestone fortune. Who, who is she? Okay.

Good job, Tiff. Uh, let's see. My name is Amish Schoolhouse Murders. Oh, yeah. Two, two, like two and from, two, you find people, really good introduction. Very good. Okay. My neighbor is a former Pennsylvania state trooper and detective.

He was called out to the nickel mines Amish Schoolhouse in October of 2006, when there was a call in for him over a hostage situation. British people are generally very peace-loving and prefer to stay to themselves, so my very veteran neighbor had a super weird look on his face when he zipped off. The News at Lunchtime reported that a milk truck driver had driven his own pickup into the schoolyard and had asked the boys to take in supplies from his pickup bed. They carried in boards, nails, and a hammer because the driver had a gun. The teacher somehow got away and called the authorities while the milk truck driver had

ordered the boys out of the school and nailed the door shut. He lined the girls up in front of the school and proceeded to call his wife. He told her he had molested girls when he was young and now he wanted to do this again. He hung up as police arrived and his wife found four suicide notes that he had left with her and their three children. My neighbor said it was the most horrible feeling as shots began. When they reached the doors and the shots stopped since the driver had killed himself. We found out later after the girls were interviewed that two sisters asked to be shot first so

the others would live. Oh my god. One died and the other was injured. The police found rope and oh this is horrible, KY jelly in the truck. Oh god. Five girls died that day. Oh my god. My neighbor said that there was not one service untouched by blood or glass or evil and he

asked shortly afterwards to move to a new position. Famously the Amish families directly affected forgave the milk truck driver but my mother famously said that quote, if that man had killed you and not himself, the police would not have had anything left to arrest. I'm sure that's how every family reacted when they heard about that. The Amish community destroyed the site and built a new school nearby and there's no signature on that email. Holy shit.

Horrible. Okay. This one's called great grandma Betty. Okay. Hey, hey ladies. Georgia, you are a hilarious Jewish queen with a K and Karen, you kill me. I wish you were my aunt, Nora is so lucky. Oh.

I have been a murderer now since I was 12 when my grandma gave me my first Stephen King book and my other grandma had me watch CSI Miami with her every night when she lived with us. Quick shout out to Horatio Cain. Yeah. Wow. And then we do that, the part of the who song where he puts his sunglasses on. Yeah, but ours are like the googly eyes glasses.

Yeah. Okay. Main story. After listening to a hometown episode one day, I was at lunch with my 80 year old grandparents who are from Wichita, Kansas. I asked them if they had any crazy stories about crime. My grandma casually goes, well, my mom stayed at a house right next to the BTK Strangler. And then all the caps says, oh, okay, sure, Yvonne.

So of course my mom and I were like, what? Tell us more. Betty, my great grandma, saw on the news that the BTK Strangler had attacked again in the area near her house and when Butch, her husband, was out of town for work. She got scared and asked her friend if she could stay with her while Butch was gone so she wouldn't be alone. Little did she know that her friend's house she was staying at was right next door to Dennis Rader's house and the ministry he worked at.

He was right there. Oh, shit. She went into the eye of the storm. She took herself right there. Nothing dramatic or crazy happens after this, but I thought it was insane how close she was to him. Yeah. Anyway, thanks for giving me a reason to write again.

And for every story you tell, SSDGM, Casey. You know, it would be an interesting TV show for me to write is because we've also had the story of the guy when Dennis Rader took his dog and wouldn't give his dog back and he lived on the same block. And he yelled at Dennis Rader about his dog. He punched him. Remember, he got into a fist fight and took his dog back from Dennis Rader. That guy, I wonder if that guy, I picture him being down to the right of Dennis Rader's

house and then this lady lives to the left. There's a whole neighborhood happening. Maybe that's going to be the next season of Mindhunter. It's just that street. Oh my God. What's going on on Dennis Rader Street? Or maybe you should just have a show where you interview people who lived a couple doors down from murder.

Yes. And they'd always be like, yeah, we didn't know what was going on. We didn't really say, he seemed nice. Seemed fine. He was very quiet. He seemed fine. Sometimes he would yell in the middle of the night. Looking for a better cooking routine?

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You can listen ad free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. Okay, this one, I'm blown away at this one. I'm so excited that I get to read it. Listen to this shit. Oh my God. Listen to this line. My badass great-grandmother and grandmother were survivors of the Tulsa race massacre. Listen to this.

Oh my God. Yeah. Hello, rad people and pets, longtime listener and big fan of All You Do. I just listened to your episode where Karen covered the Tulsa race massacre and I knew I had to write in to share the story of my badass grandmother and great-grandmother who were both survivors of this insane event. It's a bit lengthy, but it's worth it. My grandmother was about 10 or 11 at the time and living in Tulsa with my great-grandmother,

Mali, an African American single mother. That morning, the mobs were forming in front of the Tulsa courthouse. My grandmother began complaining of a sore stomach. Mali didn't pay too much attention at the time, assuming it was an ordinary stomach ache and her attention was obviously divided by the turmoil brewing in the town. As the day continued and the riots erupted in Tulsa, Mali found herself fleeing her home on foot with my grandmother in tow. As they ran through Tulsa, my grandmother suddenly collapsed.

It turns out that the stomach ache that she complained of earlier was an undiagnosed case of appendicitis. Her appendix had burst. Holy shit. Oh, it's the worst-case scenario. Yeah. With no car or other options, my Mali carried her daughter out of the chaos in Greenwood to the first house she found on the outskirts of town.

The house was owned by a white couple and Mali explained that my grandmother was very sick and begged the couple to watch her so she could return to town to find somebody with a car to drive them to the hospital. The couple refused to allow my grandmother into their house, but agreed that she could lay on the porch and wait for my great-grandmother to return. Mali looked at my grandmother and said, if I don't come back, it's because I'm dead. Then turned to an 11-year-old girl, then turned to head back into town. As she left, she heard the owner of the house say, quote, that N-word is never coming back.

By the time Mali returned to Tulsa, the National Guard had arrived. They had blocked access to the neighborhood where she lived and intended to look for help. She explained her situation to the National Guardsmen and begged for entry to her neighborhood. The explaining turned into arguing, however, and the Guardsmen ended the dispute by stabbing Mali in the back with his bayonet, leaving her bleeding on the street. Mali laid in the street, playing dead until the Guardsmen moved on. By the grace of I Don't Know What, she managed to pick herself up, continue into town, and find the ride she needed.

She picked my grandmother up from the porch of the white couple and sped to a nearby hospital. When they arrived at the hospital, the hospital refused to admit my grandmother and Mali because they were black. Eventually, they agreed to admit my grandmother because she was a child and in acute distress. They would do nothing to help my Mali, who was bleeding seriously from her stab wound. She had to leave my grandmother at the hospital during her appendix surgery so she could find help for her wounds elsewhere. Eventually, she found the help she needed and both she and my grandmother healed from

their injuries. My mom has told me this story about my grandmother and my great-grandmother countless times, and I was always impressed and inspired by their bravery and determination. It was not until I was an adult and I learned about the Tulsa Race Massacre that I was able to put this story into its historical context and realize what an insane feat of survival it truly was. I'm so proud to be a part of a long lineage of badass and brave women who refuse to let a damn thing stop them.

Stay sexy and don't let the world's injustices get in your way, Tiana. I mean, oh my god. Uh-huh. Yeah. There's a real survival story for you. That's not a creepy dating survival story. That's a fucking straight up, I survived and made history. Unbelievable.

Shit. Unbelievable. It's speechless. That's incredible. Yeah. Thank you, Tiana. That's a really beautiful thing to share with us. Yeah.

We really appreciate it. I'm going to save mine, my last one for next week, because I can't follow that with grandmas and condoms and shit, which doesn't have my stories about. Okay. We'll refuse to go next. Let's have this inspirational. It's such a good, you know what? It's also nice.

People have survived horrible things in this world. Very scary things have happened to lots of people. We're all going through a scary thing together right now. We will make it. We will survive. Everybody be strong. Send us your hometowns at my favorite murder at Gmail. I think we're going to read a lot in the next couple of weeks.

What else do we have going? Yeah, exactly. Everybody really get creative. Sit down. Take the time. Sit at your computer. Yeah. Write us an email.

Yeah. Really do it. Write us an email. Think of your fucking hooray, what it really means to you. We'll read a bunch of those too. And also go ahead and reach out, call your grandmothers, your aunts, your great grandmothers if you are lucky enough to have them. All the people, call people in your family.

Get these, get awesome historical stories of survival out of them if you can. Yeah. Ask them now. The bar's been set. Now's the time. Tiana has set the bar. But you might as... Have a couple cans of wine and call your grandma.

Yeah. You have the time. Stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, you want cookie? That's all for today. Mix?

Yes? That's all for today. Fine. Bye.