My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 263

Episode Date: January 24, 2022

This week’s hometowns include a quick stop at Stonehenge after almost being murdered and a coroner who appreciates the circle of life.  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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And welcome. To my favorite murder. This is the mini-sode. It's mini. We redo your stories from you, whatever they are. We don't care. You wrote this. Yeah.

Congratulations. Great job. Great job, everyone. You created this. Thank you. You want to go first? Sure. Ready?

This is hometown murder mystery. Hello, murder mates. Sending this again as my 2022 horoscope said, this would be my year. Hell yeah. It's happening. Got it. Get your life. Anyways, allow me to transport you to Oxford, England, smack dab in the middle of the swinging

60s, big hair, short skirts, near-death experiences. My mother, who was just 21 at the time, had traveled from Iceland to work as an au pair for an English family. Every Easter, the family would head down to their villa in Cornwall to spend the holidays. And then in parenthesis, it says la-di-da. La-di-da. La-di-da. La-di-da.

La-di-da. Oh, Cornwall, you say. Oh. Okay. In a tiny seaside village called, they gave me the phonetic, trebidreck, okay. One evening, my mom and her friend, who was visiting, decided to see if there wasn't some fun to be had for a couple of young gals about town and opted for a pint at the local pub. After a pint or so, they decided to head back, but by then it had already gotten dark outside.

Old school countryside fumble with hands pitch black. So as they made their way along, the main road heading home, they heard someone walking behind them, but glancing back, they didn't see anyone. Not until a car approached from a distance, and the headlights revealed a silhouette of a large man with bushy, unkempt hair shadowing them from behind. Just before the car reached them, the man jumped down to the side of the road, disappearing from view, only to reappear as soon as the car had passed them by. Cool, casual.

Fuck. After playing hide and seek with traffic a few times in a row, it became obvious that the man was following them and didn't want to be seen. So they walked a little faster and so did the silhouette man, sensing that they might be in danger. They started running and needless to say, so did he. They ran as fast as they could, or until my mom's friend told her to go on without her as she couldn't go any further.

At this point, my mom recalls hearing the man's heavy breath just a few steps behind them. So she kicked off her flimsy summer sandals and grabbed ahold of her friend. Barefoot, she dragged her onwards until they finally reached the front door of the house. Now for the kicker. At the house, they snuck upstairs without a word to anyone, not wanting to cause trouble. The 60s. But a few minutes later, the old chat my mom was working for, oh, because she's the video pair.

I see came upstairs and wanted to know if someone had accompanied them home. When they told him what had happened, he immediately called the police. It turns out that after the girls had gone upstairs, the couple who were enjoying their evening gin and tonic downstairs had seen movement outside. And then they saw the front door open slightly and a large hairy hand reach inside ever so slowly and grab hold of the key from the keyhole and then carefully close the door without making a sound. Goodbye.

Goodbye. Oh my God. Take an axe and fucking cut that hand off. Take a nail and quickly drive it through the palm of the hand to the wall until the police arrive. That's right. Either one. Pick one.

Four policemen arrived at the house, two stood guard outside and two inside. My mom and her friend were interviewed separately and both gave a description of the man as best they could. It turns out that the year before, a woman had been murdered nearby and the killer was never found. The police guarded the house the whole night and determined it would be best for the girls to leave town for their own safety. So the following morning, they were escorted by the police down to the main road where

the police waved down a lorry, I believe that's a trap, and asked the driver to give them a ride out of Cornwall to the nearest train station towards Oxford. That's right. The police had them hitchhike the fuck out of there. Classic. Classic. Right? That's what he says here.

God, I love the sixties. It really was a simpler time, nay crazier time. On a side note, the lorry driver did take them to see Stonehenge on the way down. So polite. Hey, I'm sorry you had a terrible time. Let me just... Do you like Neolithic monuments? It's your heart-basing.

This will calm you down. See, it turns out that we've been very wise for the eons and we used to put rocks up based on where the stars were. Anyway, sorry, you were traumatized last night. Anyway, her jumps got murdered. Okay. Okay. Near-death experience, silver lining, am I right?

A few days later, someone threw the house key into the yard, but other than that, my mother has never heard more about the Cornwall key-stealing killer. So if anyone knows anything about the silhouette man of Trebedrick, I would sure love to hear more about it. Until then, stay sexy and don't leave the goddamn key in the goddamn door while enjoying your goddamn genitonic. Thank you for being a podcast friend, Edda. And that's a great name.

Wow. It is a monumental name for a monumental Stonehenge adjacent email. That was excellent. Wow, that's true. Yeah, right? I mean, I was hoping they'd be like... And then the guy turned out to be just like, hey, you forgot your sweater at the pub or like, hey, I was following you guys home because there's a killer and they want to make sure

you're okay. But I also drunk and I jump into the ditch. Yeah. And then the visual of them being lit by the silhouette as it drives. That's horror movie. It's truly like you couldn't write it better. And also, yes, it's also... There's got to be a follow-up to this story.

Anyone has it. 60s Cornwall. Please let us know. Yes. All right. My first one is called school bus driver brings questionable character along for the ride. Uh-uh. Hello, ladies.

Stephen and everyone else. I'm from a small town in southeastern Connecticut. When I was in third or fourth grade, I used to go to art classes after school every Tuesday. On these days, I would go home on a different bus with a friend whose mom would bring us to art class. One of these fateful Tuesdays, my regular bus was completing its route and bringing all of the kids who lived in my neighborhood home. The bus driver was driving down the long, connecting road that led to my neighborhood

when a man ran out of the road clutching his bleeding neck. The bus driver pulled over and the man started pounding on the doors to let him in. So naturally, and then this is a question mark in parentheses, the bus driver opens the door and all caps lets the bleeding man on the bus filled with six to 10-year-olds. She proceeds to drop all of the traumatized children as they squeeze by the injured man sitting on the steps by the door. Of course, the kids told their parents what happened through tears of horror. The next day, I heard all about it from my friends who were on the bus.

All of us who were on this bus route were called into the cafeteria and received profuse apologies from the administration and informed that the bus driver had been fired. The worst part of it all was that the bus driver's daughter was one of the passengers and my classmate and her mom was forever known as the bus driver who potentially put dozens of kids' lives in danger. Or saved a bleeding man. Yeah. Maybe.

Yes. Apparently, this man was at a friend's house on that connecting road leading to my neighborhood when an argument broke out and his friend proceeded to slash his neck. Oh my God. I'm not sure what ended up happening to the man, but I'm pretty sure he survived his injuries and hopefully broke off that friendship. Needless to say, my nine-year-old self had never been so disappointed to miss this debacle. On the one day a week, I happen to not take the regular bus home.

So finally something happens. Food. Yeah. Stay sexy and don't let stabbing victims onto your school bus just call an ambulance like a normal person. Hanna, Rhymes was sauna. Hanna, Rhymes was sauna. Hanna, I don't know, but what if you're out there just bleeding to death?

What if it's, if you're bleeding from the neck, that's a time issue. Yeah. But there's also like, hey, I'm not taking you straight to the hospital. First I have to drop these kids off, then I'll take you to the hospital. Also please don't have weapons on you. Right. Blind faith. Truly.

Truly blind faith. Yeah. It's a no. It's a, I'll get to the next phone and call the cops. Let's wait here. Yeah. Also, was it presale phone era? I doubt it.

Well, maybe. I mean, I just assume everyone's our age. She's like, I don't want to waste my minutes. Right. I'll call after 9 p.m. Remember this. Yeah. 10, 10, 220.

Okay. That's right. Okay. The subject line of this is July Mountain Dew. Karen, Georgia, Stephen and other friends, Furry and Non, do I have a story for you? Yeah. This happened about four years ago on a family trip out west on this particular one, we rented a VRBO in promo code murder in Canada, Utah, which is right on the Utah, Arizona line.

A super small town surrounded by red mountains in empruntly seas. It was gorgeous. One grocery store and the small liquor store connected to the local police station. My favorite detail. That's fucking hilarious. That's good. That's so hilarious. What if you grew up there, like people grew up there?

Yeah. Whatever. They think the liquor stations and police are the perfect combination. That's right. Okay. Our place was a small development backed up to the mountains. One day, my ever adventurous brothers and dad decided to go for a quick hike. They said, we'll be back before dinner, go shop or do whatever to my mom and me.

They walked out the back door and we watched them fade into specs climbing up this ridge. Planning on a short hike, they did not bring extra food, packs, rope or water. My one brother who was about 21 at the time did grab his phone, which might have been what saved their lives. For a little background, my family is the most wannabe granola type you can find in Richmond, Virginia. We hike all the time mountain bike occasionally and about 99% of our decor is pictures of mountains and that's how you know, but what's that 1% just hills, baby mountains, just porn.

But it's mountain porn. Yeah. Yeah. My dad was in his mid-granty tons. Sorry. I had to do it. My dad was in his mid fifties and has always tried to keep up with my brothers, both in their twenties, no matter what the adventure.

They left for their hike and my mom and I commenced to the aforementioned shopping fancy. We came back just before the sun went down and I promptly fell asleep on the couch. I woke up to the house dark and my mom shaking me awake in a panic. I haven't heard from them and it's getting dark. What should we do? That's what the mom saying. Yeah. We hop in the car and we try to go look for them as far as the car can take us.

My mom and I try calling them as often as we can and we could only get a response every couple of calls and we tell them to call the police and stay where they are. From there on, the police and my brothers are in contact trying to find each other. At this point, it's dark, cold and they're running out of battery. They see headlights and assume it's the police and hang up the phone. The car pulls up after being flagged down and out hops three dudes with huge guns. Like huge, huh? I don't think she means muscles.

My brothers, it's a gun show. My brothers ask if they're police and they immediately turn suspicious. No, we're up here doing some hunting. What are y'all doing up here? My dad then explains that they were hiking and they got lost. The other guys jump in their car and they drive a way, leaving, leaving them behind. Chill as fuck. Thanks guys.

Eventually, the police find their way up to them and rescue them. The only thing they had in their car to drink was some warm Mountain Dew. You can bet your sweet Bippy they drank that shit down. My dad and brothers had unknowingly hiked 10 miles away from our house and ended up on an ATV trail in Arizona. Wow. We later found out that the guys with the guns were illegal deer poachers when my brothers explain the stitch to the cops.

Safe to say my mom never lets the boys leave without a fully charged phone or extra water when it comes to hiking. Stay sexy and just stay home. M. E.M. A.M.N. E.M. A.M. E.M.

Stay home. Go to the liquor store slash police station and just show them what you bought at the shopping street. Right. Donuts. Crumb donuts. Look, I got to dress with a donut pattern. You love it.

Let's drink some spritzers. Yeah, stay home. Okay. I was called that time my family almost left me for dead. Mmm. Just starts back in the 90s when I was seven years old. My family and I went to Greece on vacation. My little sister and I loved playing at the beach and on our first day befriended a group

of boys who introduced us to the art of scorpion hunting. One of the boys had spotted a giant black one the day before, so now we were all climbing around on the rocks looking for it. The fact that the boys waved around real harpoons didn't seem to bother our parents who were pretending to sleep to avoid having to talk to the other parents. Mmm. That's so my parents. So my parents.

As you might have suspected, we didn't find a scorpion and our parents later told us that the boys must have been lying because there were actually no big black scorpions in Greece. Oh. And it just says, well, well. On our last night, we went to a little tavern on the beach to have dinner. Afterwards, we strolled down the beach. It was dark and I was walking a little bit behind my family when suddenly I heard a weird wrestling noise behind me.

I stopped in my tracks. The noise was suddenly gone. So I started to walk on and the noise was back right behind me in the sand. It was so dark, I couldn't see anything. But of course, I jumped to the only possible conclusion and scream whispered, mom, dad, there's a scorpion following me. Mom and dad laughed. No, there isn't.

But when I kept on walking towards them, they heard the wrestling too. And their demeanor changed immediately. Oh my God. What is that? My parents were freaked out. And so they did what any parent in that situation would do. They ran. They grabbed my little sister's arms who was walking between them and rushed to our car

leaving me behind, oh my God, I remember to this day, there are three silhouettes in front of me. At least I had the decency to wait at the car and hold the door open for me. When I climbed into the brightly lit interior, a beam of light fell on the scorpion and it was revealed in its true form. It was a plastic bag, a white plastic bag that had somehow caught onto my sandal. So I was like, every time she'd stop, I would stop. I love it.

My parents laughed and then it says, now you're laughing, huh? Yes. And I was relieved, of course, but to this day, I keep reminding them of how little it took for them to basically leave me for dead. Yeah, that's right. Am I joking? Of course. Or am I?

Nope. Nope. Thanks for all you do and greetings from Germany. Stay sexy and don't get killed by a bag. And then it's signed a devoted listener. Yes. Yay. Beautiful job, a devoted listener.

Oh, that is such a beautiful story. And also, like, yeah, that person's birthday presents must have been amazing every year after, like the guilt factor. Very better. Yes. The three silhouettes. Jesus Christ. It's like, now I know who your favorite is.

You know that happened to me one night walking to, we were doing a benefit show for Nithya and Raman at the L. Ray. And I had to park, you know, parking down there is so impossible. And I had to park, like, in the grocery store parking lot and then walk. And I had a new pair of flats on. And so I was trying to walk fast because, of course, I was late. And then I realized someone was following me. And I was like, it was the same thing where I would speed up and they would speed up.

And then finally I realized it was my new shoes. It was like one extra squeak that sounded like it was a shoe sound behind me, but it was just double shoe sounds from my shoes. I love it. Okay. But at least I wasn't a child. And at least my parents didn't leave me fucking behind. That's right.

That's whatever scary sound that they did not know what it was. They didn't know what it was. You're on your own. Guess what? This is the cold world. Looking for a better cooking routine? With meal planning, shopping and prepping handled, hello fresh has you covered. Hello fresh makes home cooking easy and affordable so you can stay on track and on budget in

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.ca slash murder 20 and use code murder 20. Goodbye. Hey, I'm Arisha and I'm Brooke and we're the hosts of wonderies 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 will 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. This is long lost stuff in walls with a bonus attic story. My brother and I grew up in the same small farmhouse that my mom grew up in. That's cool.

We spent our childhood days playing with animals climbing mulberry trees and building forts. One of our favorite fascinations was buried treasure. We would hide trinkets around the farm and draw elaborate maps to their location. We'd hide the maps to of course and not necessarily in the safest spots. Alas, much of our plunder remained buried and forgotten when our family moved off the farm in 1988 and renters moved in. Last year, mom told us that the old farmhouse was going to be remodeled and did we want to go back and take a look at things before the work started.

It was like stepping back in time. Dad's barnwood office was exactly the same. Mom's recipe for cinnamon rolls was still taped inside the cupboard. Oh, it's getting me. My brother and I checked the particular spot in the house's outside foundation because 35 years ago there had been a loose brick that we would pull out and hide things behind. We were a little bummed to see that the mortar had been repaired. We were all sitting in a tiny back bedroom telling my nieces and nephews about sneaking

kitties in through the window as kids when one of them pointed to a wooden square in the ceiling and asked, what's up there? Mom explained that it was the attic but that it was empty except for old insulation. Of course, they wanted to look so we dragged in the tallest ladder we could find and my nephew crawled up and pushed back the wood covered opening. We heard him exclaim, eesh, it's hot up here and dirty and there's boxes too. So excitedly we helped him hand what he had found. Hand down what he had found, maybe?

I love that they have the little kid go up into the potentially haltergeist attic. See if there's any demons up there. Inside, oh, like, oh, hand down the boxes. Inside were my mom's childhood toys. Oh, there were tiny dishes, a small piano, plastic animals, a lone ranger holster set, baby dolls and clothes that she had sewn for them, watching my 76 year old mom holding these things again and saying, I remember this is something I will always cherish, right? I can't believe my brother and I never opened the attic in the 15 years we lived there.

I also can't believe what 60 years of Nebraska heat and freezing attic temperatures does to a doll's face. And then in parentheses it says, that's some serious nightmare material there. Oh my God. A couple of weeks later, I received a message from my brother with a picture of my nieces and nephews holding a beat up lemon lime chapstick container. His text read, they're moving the house off its foundation. Guess what was behind that brick?

Oh my. Stuffed inside the tube was a note that dated 1986 and had our names, our parents' names, and the message. We live here. Is that a threat? Yep. We fucking live here, not you. A sincere thanks to you, Karen and Georgia, for cultivating something that so many of

us connect with and look forward to Sherry. That was a fun ride. Appreciate you. You know what it reminds me of? I don't know if you saw this. I posted on Twitter, but my sister gave me this thing on Christmas morning this year that was from our house, like our old first house growing up. And it was this little ceramic lady that was a bell, but it was like brown ceramic.

It was so 70s looking and we forgot it existed. And my dad made my sister clean out the cupboard underneath like this weird wet bar that's in the corner no one ever uses or looks at. And when she cleaned it out, it was like old cans of seven up. And then the very back, this little bell lady was sitting there like the only thing left over from our childhoods. And so she wrapped it up and gave it to me and I fucking, I opened the box and just started balling it.

It was truly like a comp like an artifact from 1974 that brings you back immediately immediately. She was always right on the mantle. That's amazing. Yeah. I was real good. Okay. This is called remember when you asked for stories about baby squirrels. I feel like you could write in remember when you asked for and then you just say anything

and we would either believe you, but that's even if not, we still want to hear it. We believe you. We'd have to believe you. Right. At this point. Right. Okay. This starts.

Hi, hi, hi. I like you. Then it goes into the store. Nice. Nice. This is a really, I love this one. In 1998, I had recently moved into my first house. It was in an quote, up and coming historic district, which is code for quote, the houses

are incredible, but no one wants to live there. To combat the sketch factor, I got a puppy who I assumed one day would have become a big scary dog. Alas, turns out the only creatures Simon ever scared were the squirrels that ran across the top of the backyard friends. One day he tore outside screaming his regular squirrel alarm, but within moments, his, I will end you scream turned into a soft whining, assuming a squirrel finally somehow turned the tables on him.

I headed to the backyard only to find him standing over a very tiny, furlous little bundle. Apparently a mama squirrel had dropped her baby as she was fleeing. Side note, this is when I realized Simon actually loved the squirrels and was probably screaming, I'm Simon, play with me. No Simon. Yeah. The answer is no Simon. Anyway, with his unintentional assistance, my secret dream of raising a baby squirrel

was being realized. I promptly put the wee one in a towel lined shoebox and named him slugger. His little eyes weren't even open. Oh, it only took about 45 minutes before I realized how seriously dumb this plan was. I was working full time with a one and a half hour commute and had no time to take care of a neonatal squirrel, not to mention no idea how to take care of the little twerp. So I started calling around to vets offices and a rescue center for guidance late nineties, no internet, of course, after a number of times hearing quote, put it back outside and

let nature take its course. And one quote, bring it to us and we'll feed it to the raptors of that assistance finally took pity on me and gave me the phone number for a guy she knew who raised orphan raccoons and opossums. Maybe he'd take the squirrel. Hopefully I dialed the number. A voice answered Montgomery County Coroner's office. I laughed said I imagined I had dialed the wrong number and hung up, redialed Montgomery

County Coroner's office. I laughed again and told the lady on the other end that I think someone had played a joke on me as I was looking for a person named Mark who rescued orphan animals. Oh, no, no joke, she said, that's the coroner. He does it in a spare time. Oh, my God. And that is how I ended up meeting the Montgomery County Coroner on my front porch. He told me that saving orphan baby animals was how he balanced his life.

He strived to give dignity to the dead and care to the most vulnerable. I got a little misty eyed, honestly. Interestingly, like an idiot, I invited him to come into my house as I went to get slugger and he politely declined. Before he left, he asked me to never invite a strange man in my house as he had, quote, seen all too many times how badly that can turn out. Oh, God. This man is an angel.

Mark, I love you. Then he took slugger and went on his merry way. What a legend. Real quick, before I asked SDGM, I too, like so many, am grateful for your fierce advocacy for mental health and therapy. I just want to take this opportunity to thank all the psychologists, counselors, and social workers out there providing therapy. It is an incredibly rewarding job, but it's also draining and hard as hell all the time.

I imagine the last two years when they have been dealing with their own isolation and fear has been even harder. So thank you, therapists, for all you do, you rock. Stay sexy. And don't assume coroners don't love teeny tiny baby animals to a... Ugh. Yes. Isn't that sweet?

It's beautiful. It makes perfect sense. Yeah. It makes perfect sense. Circle of life. Balancing out the, you know, the heart and the sweet. Is that okay? Yeah.

Yeah. Exactly. Bringing things to life. That's right. Nursing them into health. And then also making sure that, you know, the dead have dignity. The sky. Yeah.

The sky. This guy. This guy. Why can't he live near me? Coroner Mark. Coroner Karen and Mark. Call me Mark. Call me Mark.

All right. You have one more? No, I thought that was it. Oh, that was it. Cool. Yeah, I went first. Okay. Good.

I like adding on that one. All right. Yeah, that was great. And each of us, you can by joining the fan cult. And that's all. Yeah. And I'll, oh, wait, there's one more thing. Stay sexy.

Oh, and don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an exactly right production. Our producer is Hannah Kyle Crichton, associate producer Alejandra Keck, engineer and mixer Steven Ray Morris, researchers J. Elias and Hailey Gray, send us your hometowns and your fucking praise at my favorite murder at gmail.com and follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at my favorite murder and Twitter at my fave murder.

And for more information about this podcast, our live shows, merch, or to join the fan cult, go to my favorite murder.com rate review and subscribe.