My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 239 - The Survivors: Part II

Episode Date: August 9, 2021

This week's minisode is a compilation of hometowns that feature survivor stories.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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Welcome. This is my favorite murder. The mini-a-soat. Where we read mini-a-soats. Your emails. Our mouths. What a combination. Ready for the first one?

Do it. My grandparents survived the Hyatt Regency Collapse. Oh, shit. It was in the middle of my pile. And when I got to that subject line, I was like, what? This is it. You buried the lead. Okay.

Ladies, I was so surprised to hear Karen share the story of the Hyatt Regency Collapse. It was a tragic event that even here in Kansas City seems almost forgotten. My grandparents were at the Hyatt that night and survived the disaster. My grandmother passed away when I was a baby. But my grandfather used to tell the story quite often. I remember when I was a little girl and would go downtown on school trips or with friends, I would proudly point out the Hyatt to my friends and tell the story of how the hotel collapsed on my grandparents.

The way my grandpa told it was this. He and my grandmother went to the dance with two other couples. So there was a tea dance that they were having there when that happened that day. So they were there. They were standing near the bar waiting to order drinks when a special song came on. One of the other women said it was her and her husband's song. So she dragged her husband to the dance floor with her. My grandfather told the second couple to go on ahead that he and my grandmother would

get the drinks for everyone. So the second couple left for the dance floor. My grandfather was at the bar ordering drinks when they heard the crash. And afterwards they couldn't see anything but dust. Someone grabbed them and helped them out of the building and they survived with minor injuries. It wasn't until the next day that they learned the four friends who had been with them had all perished and they collapsed. My grandfather is certain that they would have been killed if they hadn't stayed behind to get drinks.

In retrospect, he likely had a great deal of survivor's guilt. But as a hardened WW2 veteran, he was conditioned to downplay tragedy. Hey, who isn't? He said he still knows exactly what song was playing when the ceiling collapsed. But for the life of me, I can't remember what song he told me it was. Come on. My grandfather passed away a few years ago at the age of 94. And I regret not keeping better track of his stories.

Lady in red is dance. That's it, right? I just thought of any song from the 80s. Lady in red. That's perfect. There it is. And also just the perfect song to haunt you terribly. Despite hearing this story from my grandpa many times over the years,

it wasn't until I heard Karen's telling of the story that I gave any thought to the first responders that night. As a first responder myself, it's humbling to think that I might not be here if not for the first responders who saved my grandparents. Maybe I'll catch you sometime. You're in KC, SSDGM Sabrina. Wow. Yeah. That's a good one.

I love those ones. I mean, we hate it. We love it. Okay. We love the background information. We love the personal firsthand telling of, oh my God, it was there when that thing came down. That's right. Because these are real people that the shit happens to.

And we know it. Okay. This one, I mean, this is like a heavy hitters episode, I feel like. This is called creepy van, nail file and my badass mom. Hey y'all. What? Amazing. Hey y'all.

Y'all is my favorite word. Okay. My fiance and I were on a road trip when he introduced me to your podcast. It obviously went good because we listened to it there and back seven hour trip. And here I am writing to you. Hi. When my mom was 16, which would have been back in the 70s, she was walking down town in a very small town when a van pulled up next to her and two men in the front seat asked

her for directions. And then it says how fucking common, right? She stepped closer to the van to point on the map when a man jumped out of the back and pulled her into the van. She was in the van with two men in the front and two men on both sides of her in the back. The driver told her how they were going to kill her. My mom somehow managed to hold onto her purse when the man pulled her into the van. She reached into her purse when the driver asked what she was doing.

She replied, getting a cigarette out. Is that a fucking issue? But instead she pulled out a nail file, the ones with the pointy stab and stab the driver in the back of the neck. Fuck yeah, girl. Fought the guys next to her and managed to open the van door and jump out of the moving vehicle. Yes.

Amazing. Stab everybody and get out. Stab them and fucking run. Filed their fucking jugular vein down to a nub and get out. I'll give you a neck a manicure bitch. Luckily, they were still in town and she jumped out in front of a bar where a few men were able to get her inside and calm her down. They called the police and she was able to describe the men and the van, but the men

were never caught. She has always taught me to have something in my purse at all times to be able to save my life. And I hope I can pass that advice along as well because without that nail file, I'm not sure if my mom would be here today or shit me either. Stay sexy and nail file, save lives, Samantha in North Carolina. Yes. Samantha, say hi to your mom for us, please.

Yes, man. And then high five her for being a badass. That's right. Because also, yeah, she had to think of it, do it, and then act, do a little Meryl Streep act day of like, I'm trying to smoke you fucking asshole. Is that okay with you? Yeah. Which I actually recommend.

It went in doubt if you take the bitch route, it at least kind of dazzles people a little bit. I love all of it. It's a good way to like re-channel your fear because you can channel fear right into aggressive, like bitchy aggressiveness. That's a good acting style. You can take one and it seems like the other. This subject line of this one is my mother-in-law escapes murder twice.

All inclusive hello. So good. Perfection. My fiance is from Oregon, AKA the Pacific Northwest, AKA murder corner of the US growing up his mom, Cindy, C-Y-N-D-I-E. What about the girl at the meet and greet this past weekend who I said, what's your name? And she goes, Cindy, and I couldn't hear her the first time.

And I asked again. Then she goes, Cindy from the 70s. Remember that? Here's a group girl. I'm still laughing about that, Cindy. Okay. So this is the mother-in-law, Cindy C-Y-N-D-I. Growing up, his mom, Cindy, narrowly escaped being murdered twice.

So I'm lucky he's even here. Young Cindy used to hitchhike around town during the 70s despite being warned by friends and family that this was a terrible idea. Not in the Pacific Northwest. No, God, no. One day a VW bug stopped to pick her up. She glanced at the driver, skinny white guy, and thought he looks harmless. And hopped in.

As soon as she was in the car with the door closed, the driver lunged at her. Cindy reached for the door handle to get the fuck out of there, but she was shocked to find there was no passenger side. Oh. Dude had removed it to create his own little murder mobile. She was fighting him off when she felt the door open and someone grabbed her from behind. She thought, oh shit, there's two of them. But it turned out to be a friend of hers.

He'd been driving by, seen her hitchhiking, and circled around to pick her up. But when he saw the VW bug parked in the same spot, he stopped to check it out after the friend dragged Cindy out of the car the driver sped off. Oh my God. Hero. But she's going to, this goes into a second story, because it's escaping twice. But nowhere in that is mentioned that this was 1000% the Ted Bundy M.O. Or more frequently, that was just a regular thing guys did back then.

Oh no. Yeah. That was Ted Bundy's M.O. For sure. That sounds like such a Ted Bundy experience. Right. Okay. Also up in those mountains.

Oh. He would hide those women's bodies. Oh, that's right. Cindy was also there the night of the Oregon Museum Tavern shooting. If you're not familiar, on May 7, 1981, a 25-year-old man named Lawrence William Moore walked into the Oregon Museum Tavern in Salem, Oregon, and started shooting into the crowd. Didn't he do this one too? No.

This is the one that happened to me. Berkeley years was Berkeley. Cindy was there with friends, one of whom has served in Vietnam. So as soon as he heard the first shots, Cindy's friend turned their table over and he, Cindy, and the others hid behind him. Amazing. Jesus. People eventually tackled the gunman, and he's currently serving life in prison.

Sad but interesting twist, one of the victims, Dennis Sharf, was wounded during this shooting and paralyzed. He lived until January 2013, but died from complications from his injury, bringing Moore's murder tally up to from four to five people over 30 years after the fact. Luckily, Cindy lived through it all, and she'll be there to dance at our wedding this October. I bought the fuck you, I married sweatpants as soon as they came out, and I can't wait to change into them the minute the reception is over. Yay.

Oh, that's awesome. Some brides buy lingerie, buy, buy, murder pants, stay sexy, and always check for door handles, Val. Amazing. So good. Oh, Cindy with a Y. Cindy with a Y-I-E. Cindy with a Y-I-Otta.

Okay. So this is called, Hometown I Survived, slash, I might go into labor at your show, Karen Georgia and gang, and then it says, sorry, I suck at intros. Disagree. That was great. I liked it. It was all we wanted. It's all we wanted.

I thought I would share my hometown I survived story that made me a murderer now as just a young preteen. I wish that I could find more details on it, but it was before the internet. I grew up before the internet. Yeah. I grew up going to sporting events for my twin brother, and most of my entertainment came from eavesdropping on the mom's talking gossip. Hell yeah.

That's right. One of the moms had recently been stalked by some guy. One night she was sleeping on the couch waiting for her husband to get off and was awoken by the sound of duct tape being ripped. She came to realize that there was a man in her house. I don't know the details of the fight, except that she ended up grabbing his eyeballs, which sent him running down the street screaming in pain. Good.

She called 911 and the man was arrested. My mom's other friends served on the jury that found him guilty. Evidently, he had been stalking her for a while, had broken into her house when she was alone, turned the TV up and closed the kid's bedroom's doors and was planning to rape her. Who knows what would have happened if she hadn't fought back. That badass survived by grabbing his eyeballs. Hell yeah.

In retrospect, the story may be the reason why I'm always paranoid that I have a stalker. Always looking, anyways, looking forward to your Houston show in May. My husband surprised me with tickets, even though it's a four-hour trip and I will be nine months pregnant. Girl, it's like a contest. We joke about how great of a story it would be to go in the labor at your show, but not really. Baby Link hears your voices every day.

Disagree. So he will be likely to be born a murderino. Yes. A baby Reno. Stay sexy and don't get murdered because you went for the eyeballs, Al. Al, I would just like to point out- It's an Adler AI. AI? Like artificial intelligence?

Maybe. The computer wrote us that hometown. Computer-generated hometowns. It's the way of the future. Here's all the things you like. Eyeballs, fear, defense, self-defense. Babies going into labor. Eyes going everywhere.

That the sound of ripping duct tape is one of the scary- it wasn't until she just stated it. You were like- What a horrifying sound to wake up to. The like opening of duct, the like peeling. Yeah. Peeling off. Because what else would it be?

It's not someone going, oh, I just have to tape down these roof shingles or some shit like that. Hey, I'm in your house while you're sleeping. Yeah. And it's like you can't do it quietly. It's like purposefully allowed to scare the shit out of you. That's right. You can't quietly rip duct tape.

No. I've tried it many times. No. It won't rip that way. You have to go loud and proud chainsaw style with any duct tape. And then you gotta go for the eyeballs. And I also was thinking, because the eyeballs are the most painful, but you know, every once in a while, I don't know if this happens to you, Georgia, but you reach into your nostril

because you just want to scratch or pick or do something and you scratch your inside. Uh-huh. Or you got a zit in there. It's the most painful place to get a zit. I would imagine sticking your finger up someone's nose and scratching the inside would be very effective. How about both your pinkies clonk right in the ear holes? Ooh.

Yeah. Because you're not supposed to put anything in your ear holes, especially other people's pinkies that maybe have very nicely manicured pinkie nails on them and scratching around. Yeah, clonks. Or right under the ear holes. Right in there. All right. And also don't be afraid to just hurt their feelings because that'll stop a guy in his

tracks right quick. Say something rude. Oh, you're not that smart. Oh, you're less smart than I thought. Oh, you don't seem successful to me. Boom. He's down on his knees. Oh, you took the 405 to the 101.

You absolutely should have taken the 25. What? You took the 25 to the 101. You should have taken it to the 10. Are you a fool? Oh, my God. Who does that? Ruin.

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And I'm Brooke. And we're the hosts of Wondery's podcast, Even the Rich, where we bring you absolutely true and absolutely shocking stories about the most famous families and biggest celebrities the world has ever seen. Our newest series is all about the incomparable diva, Whitney Houston. Whitney's voice defined a generation, and even after her death, her talent remains unmatched. But her incredible success hit a deeply private pain. In our series, Whitney Houston, Destiny of a Diva, we'll tell you how she hid her true

self to make everyone around her happy and how the pressure to be all things to all people led her down a dark path. Follow Even the Rich wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. The subject line of this is, I didn't fuck politeness and almost paid the price. Light hearted. Okay. Okay.

Hey, I'm FM Fam. This was one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me, but people really seem to love the story. So I thought you guys would like it too. Thank you. At night, I was waiting for my friend to get out of her shift at the mall. The parking lot had cleared out, and I was waiting in my car by the secret side entrance that employees use.

Out of nowhere, a middle-aged white guy started walking towards my car. Since I was parked by the sidewalk, I assumed he was just going to walk right by, but still had that feeling of, quote, lock your doors. Well, I was worried about what this random ass stranger thought of me by hearing me auto lock my doors. I get it. Yes, I get the same thing. To my horror, Homeboy opens the door and tries to get the fuck in.

I thought to myself, oh, hell no, motherfucker is going to work for this bitch. Oh, hell no. Motherfucker is going to work for this bitch. Got it, got it, got it. And I put my car in drive and started driving with him half in and out of the car, so he was crab walking quickly with one leg in and one leg out. I was going to gun it when he screamed, equally terrified, wrong car, wrong car. I could tell he was genuine, so I stopped my car and we both apologized profusely.

Can you imagine what he was thinking? He was just thinking his sweet wife Debbie is coming to pick him up from his trip to the mall. And before he can even say hi or see who's in the car, you're trying to survive having your legs run over. Well, anyways, he went back to the curb to wait for his ride, and I continued to wait for my friend. And every once in a while, we would make sharp, all-caps, painful eye contact with each other.

Oh, God. Both thinking we were going to die. I'm still kind of proud that I had that reaction. I always thought if I was in that situation, I would just squeeze my boobs and scream. Anyway, stay sexy, always lock your car doors, if anything, to avoid an awkward-ass situation. Mariah. Amazing, Mariah. You should be proud of yourself.

I think so, too. Yeah. I mean, like, sorry, but you got in. Yeah. That's a split-second decision, and now you kind of know going forward that you can trust yourself in your instincts if something happens, which is a really great feeling, I think. For sure. Also, what are the odds that she's driving the car that he knows to get into?

Yeah. No, it's bananas. I've done something similar without those consequences. Because you thought you were getting into a lift? Yeah. Yeah. Which now, you know, they're saying, like, there's this along a lot of campuses, they're saying that you have to make sure, like, check the license plate number before you get

in, because women have been kidnapped or, like, there's people who purposely wait near a lift, so someone gets in. Yes. They kidnap them. They just think, yeah. Well, also, I don't... That's how I identify my lift is the license plate. Yeah.

Usually. Let's just all make sure we do that every time. Okay. We're all fine. Okay. Okay. This is called, I was hit by a car while inside a steak restaurant, light-hearted. Hi, all.

This is my hometown story, and almost surely my claim to fame, I was hit by a car while inside a steak restaurant. My husband, brother, and his girlfriend and I went to our local steak joint, kind of fancy, several years ago to celebrate something or other. I forgot what, and we were seated at a four-top at the far wall underneath a big-screen TV. I had first choice of seats and chose the one under the TV against the wall with a broad view of the room. I ordered an old-fashioned with a double shot of bourbon, my favorite cocktail, and a rib

eye. There we all sat, eating steak, me drinking bourbon, when my brother's eyes grew wide. Suddenly, there was a loud crash. People jumped up and started yelling at me, gesturing and pointing. I turned around to see a car bumper poking through the wall inches from where I was sitting, and looked up to see the big-screen TV dangling by wires right over my head. Oh, shit. You know, I do this.

I sit in the right place so I can see the whole room, but little do you know, the wall behind you is where the fucking car is going to come through. It was from behind her? Yeah, so I think it was the back wall of the restaurant. Oh, shit. So she had her back to that wall, the big-screen TV is above her head. It's almost crashes through the wall. Oh, my God.

Isn't that insane? If the car had been an inch or two farther into the restaurant, that car would have mowed me down and that goddamn TV would have finished me off. I learned that I'm the kind of person who doesn't immediately run away from danger. No. In the middle of all this craziness, I calmly picked up my steak and cocktail and moved to a farther table, sat down, and continued eating. Sorry, can I just add something?

That might be because you were drunk. It says, in hindsight, the bourbon may have had something to do with this. All right. Good. I didn't want to accuse anybody of anything. No, you're not wrong. But that's kind of the joy of alcohol, is that like, there's a little bit of a nice hazy kind of distance.

A buffer. Yes. An ambulance came rolling in, sirens on. The cop made me go to the ambulance where I had to sit to have my blood pressure taken. Et cetera. Et cetera. Well, diner stood around, craning their necks to see the woman who got hit by a car while in a steak restaurant.

All I can think about was my steak getting cold. My Asshab brother stood outside the ambulance, laughing and pointing at me. After having two paramedics examine the scratch on my arm, worriedly, they let me go. My brother, his girlfriend, and my husband had got to go finish their dinners while mine was taken away because all caps. There was too much plaster in it, yes, because all caps. I got hit by a car, after I got hit by a car, my reaction was to continue eating a steak salted with plaster.

You know, priorities. But kindly, Mr. Steak, the owner, comped our meal and made me a new steak complete with a twice-baked potato and the ubiquitous steakhouse iceberg salad. Hell yeah. That's right. An article about the car accident was in the local paper. Yes, I was named as the woman who got hit by a car while inside a goddamn steak restaurant. For weeks after I received advertisements for personal injury lawyers, all I wanted

was a steak. Today, at the fancy steakhouse, there's a drive-up window where the hole in the wall used to be. What? I like to think I had a hand in that window somehow. I haven't been to a steak restaurant since, and I'm vegetarian now. Stay sexy and don't sit under a big screen TV against the back wall of a steak restaurant. Hugs, Sharon.

And then it says, he asked my latest book, Girls on the Verge, was on Cosmo's best books list along with yours, so that makes us book sisters, right? Sharon! Oh my God, congratulations! Sharon Biggs-Waller. And then she writes XO. What's her name? The book again?

The book is Girls on the Verge. It looks really good. Sharon Biggs-Waller. Wow. Check it out. That's amazing. Great ending. Yeah, that was great.

Okay. Are you telling me that somewhere in this country, there is a steak restaurant with a drive-up window that I could go get a twice-baked potato? How have we not gone to this now? Can we? Please go now. Let's have all steakhouses have drive-up windows. What city do you remember?

I don't know. We need to know what city? Yeah. We need to know. I mean, is it like a... She said Mr. Steak. Mr. Steak? Well, she called him Mr. Steak, because she, you know, it sounded fancy, though.

It did sound fancy. Oh, man. Drive-thru. Listen, Ruth's Chris, when you get a fucking drive-thru. Let's do that thing. Let us know. Come on. Oh, well, what a great slew of letters we got this week.

Thank you, everybody, for sending them in. Thanks. Send yours in by going to our website. You can submit one there or just send it to my favorite murderer. And I'd like to do a call-out for just regular old hometowns. What is the crime story from your hometown that happened big or small that made you get into true crime the first time? Because we've gone off on, oh, sorry, on all these tangents, and we get lots of them and

they're great, but we really should be doing, you know, we need the meat and potatoes, Mr. Steak. Yeah. We need the drive-thru so we can drive up and grab our meat and potatoes. And then as well have some plaster. That's right. We're going to go through a version of a steakhouse. Creepy drive-thru stories you'll be good to go.

Yeah. Are there? Do people have creepy drive-thru stories? I'm sure. Well, you know people who've worked in fast food have the worst stories, I'm sure. I didn't love to hear that. I didn't get it from that side of the window. Oh, my God.

Send them in. Both directions, but if you've worked at a fast food restaurant, something creepy has happened to you. Please. That's right. Please tell us about it. I have to know. But also, I'm also asking for regular ones.

Stay sexy. Don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? No, no, no, no, no, no, no.