My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 278

Episode Date: May 9, 2022

This week’s hometowns include awful camp counselors and a glitch in the matrix.  See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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 Menacea. You know how it goes, you send us your emails and then we read them to you quietly and then we do ASMR and you relax finally. Chill. Why don't you chill out a little bit? Can you just chill out? Calm down, go first, you go first. This first email that I will read to you today. I will not read you the subject line. Okay. Okay, it starts Heidi Ho. Oh, that's fun. Heidi Ho, murderinos. Heidi Ho. Here's a lesson on how not to introduce

yourself to your new neighbor. Here we go. My now husband and I bought our first home together in a funky neighborhood in Baltimore back in 2013. Cut to a nice spring day. I was outside doing some yard work when all of a sudden I hear, hey, I look up and I can just see who I hope to God is my new neighbor peering over our tall fence, Mr. Wilson style. I look up and after exchanging pleasantries, he says, so what do you know about the people who you bought this house from? We had bought from a house flipper, so very little. I told him, hoping this would put an end to the stop and chat. But alas, it did not. He continued, darn, I really wanted to know if I was right. He then launched into this following story. Okay. Keep in mind, this is my first interaction ever with this man.

He goes on to tell me that previously a mother and daughter had lived in our home, and that one day he stopped seeing the mom. He thought nothing of it as she was older until about a month later when he decided to put in a new fence that divided our yards. Cut to the daughter running out of her home, screaming at him for disturbing her yard without prior notice and making a fuss until the work was stopped for the day. Before work could resume the next day, it was held up again by the same woman getting a concrete pad laid in the backyard. Okay. Right? Shortly thereafter, she sold the house. He wrapped up the story with, quote, I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I'd wager she buried her mom right about where you're standing. So

if you ever tear up that concrete, let me know. Oh my God. And then he turned and went back inside his own home. Goodbye. Oh my God. Yeah. And then it just says, what the actual fuck? Who just drops that story and leaves? We didn't even exchange names. Just a casual, hi, I think there's a body in your yard. Bye. I immediately called my husband who was away at the time and related this tale. We never did dig up the pad, but I did let our potential disgruntled spirit know that we were cool and she could hang out if she wanted to. We sold the house two years ago. And I still wonder if there truly was a body in my backyard. It wouldn't be the first body hidden in our neighborhood. She's going to tell us. Okay. A popular cocktail bar found a body in their

floor while renovating. And then in parentheses it says rumor has it it's still there. And then three doors down another body was found in the floor that was uncovered for renovations there as well. But those stories are all stories for another time. Holy shit. That's our new podcast Baltimore stories. Stay sexy and make sure to at least exchange names before discussing dead bodies with your neighbors, Jackie. Oh my goodness. It's so much to deal with. I thought it was going to have an end like they found a body. Not it might still be there. Goodbye. Well, because if it were you, I believe or I, we would absolutely dig up that cement pad the next day. And just just the phone calls would just start rolling the second. Yeah. Or at least call the police and be like,

is there a missing person that used to live? Whatever. I mean, I don't know. Listen, live your life. Look, Baltimore. You're doing great. Baltimore is a world of its own. If you have any Baltimore stories, please get at us. We need all the Baltimore stories, the stories of those people who got found under floors. If you know any renovation to reveal a unknown body in the wall, any of it. Okay. This is called, look, my daughter is creepy. Sup, spicy intro. Greetings. Cool. I have a seven year old daughter that I'm pretty sure is either a demon or had made a deal with one. Don't get me wrong. She's great. She's smart, sweet, funny, and everything. Here's what I mean. My cousin passed away unexpectedly at 23 years old one morning.

Before any of us knew, my daughter too at the time was talking to her in the corner of the room. She claimed my cousin taught her how to dance and she had been a dance instructor even though they had never met. She pointed her out in a picture and everything. She also had an imaginary friend that she called Dawn that ended up having a first and last name that matched her paternal great grandfather that I never knew about. Oh, she described him down to the last detail, even while no pictures of him exist, thanks to a house fire where his wife killed herself. Oh, God. I know. My favorite one she's done so far was about three years ago. I was on a video call with a coworker while my angel child was drawing a picture. It was a picture

of a lady with a pattern dress and what looked like vine circling her. I asked her what she was drawing and she showed me and my coworker and said to my coworker, it's you in the hospital, but you have a mystery illness. The pattern dress was a hospital gown and the quote vines were ER life support. Two weeks later, she was in the hospital. Oh, my. She stopped breathing and ended up in the ICU for almost a month and they never found out why. Mystery illness. She's freaked out by this child. It's just her heart stopped because of the creepiest child in the world. She's scared of a child. She's fine now, but every time she's being annoying, I tell her, I'm going to have my daughter draw her again. My daughter does this stuff all the time, but these

are some of the ones I can explain the easiest. Stay sexy and don't let my daughter draw you. Carl, she, her. Oh, man. Don't let my daughter draw you. I was trying to try to subtly find it super quick, but there was an amazing thread on Twitter that was basically people telling a series of stories like that where it was the person said it was some story and it was all this where it was like little kids going before you were my mommy, my mommy had long blonde hair and all. Did you see that thread? No, but I love those stories. Oh, it was, it was really funny because like the first, the initial one was super creepy and good and then the first say 30 responses are super sincere and like my two-year-old touched my face

and said, be careful, but you know, like there's all these stories. Then people start responding and doing jokes that were so funny. Some dude wrote something like my two-year-old walked out into the stairs landing and said, my name is Joey. It was like some Italian mafia name or whatever. People were being hilarious. So it's like, there's, some people are like, this is total bullshit. And, but a majority of people are just like, oh, no, no, no, this, like, this is common. Kids know things. They fucking know things. Yeah. There's a lot of like, before I lived with you, I was with my other parents, but they died or whatever. Looking for a better cooking routine? With meal planning, shopping and prepping handled, Hello Fresh has you covered.

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So get up to 20 free meals with purchase plus free shipping on your first box at hellofresh.ca slash murder20 with code murder20. That's up to 20 free meals plus free shipping on your first box when you go to hellofresh.ca slash murder20 and use code murder20. Goodbye. Hi. What makes a person a murderer? Are they born to kill or are they made to kill? I'm Candace DeLong and on my new podcast, Killer Psyche Daily, I share a quick 10-minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of the criminal masterminds, psychopaths and cold-blooded killers you hear about in the news. I have decades of experience as a psychiatric nurse, FBI agent and criminal profiler. On Killer Psyche Daily, I'll give you

insight into cases like Ryan Grantham and the newly arrested Stockton serial killer. I'll also bring on expert guests to dive deeper into the details, share what it's like to work with a behavioral assessment unit at Quantico, answer some killer trivia and even host virtual Q&As where I'll answer your burning questions. Hey, Prime members, listen to the Amazon Music exclusive podcast, Killer Psyche Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today. Here's a super creepy follow-up. Great. Hey, party people. Love it. I hope you're all doing well. I'm an 18-year-old listener from Kansas City, Missouri, but I've been listening since I was 15. Oh, hey, little kid. Hey, we grew up with you. My story comes from a local church camp that I

attended for several years when I was in elementary school. The land the camp is on contains a historical protected cemetery with graves dating back to the 1700s. Whoa. The camp. Creepy. I love it. It's built on an ancient burial ground. Essentially, an ancient burial ground. Who does this planning? Okay. I don't think there was anyone taking care of the cemetery. And because of this, it looked quite decrepit. The children in the camp program I was in were ages seven to 11. So this was the first time being away from our parents for a week straight for most of us. After we had already been there for a couple of days, getting emotionally manipulated by young adults, probably not fit to watch that many children under the guise of teaching the love of

God. And then it says nothing against Christianity. This camp just had a lot of issues. The counselors would take us all on a quote unquote field trip to the rundown cemetery. Fun. In the middle, there was a small headstone with the name Mabel on it for a seven year old girl who had died in the early 1800s. Every memory I have of being in the cemetery was a rainy, dreary day. And the counselors always put on a spooky story voice. They would tell us how Mabel had been riding a horse on her family's farm and had accidentally fallen off and gotten kicked in the head by the horse. And then in parentheses, but also in all caps, it says also interesting how this was always told on the day before we went horse riding. Yeah, that's not cool. Anyway, Mabel's parents

heartbroken buried their child in the cemetery without realizing that they had buried her with a valuable piece of her mother's jewelry. Ding, ding, ding. That's where the problem in the story that's where you can tell 14 year olds made the story up. Exactly. Oh, wait, I left my bracelet in the casket. I forgot to check her wrist. Yeah, no, no. So without realizing they'd buried her with a valuable piece of her mother's jewelry. So they dug her casket up. When they opened the casket, there was scratch marks on the sides and lid and Mabel's fingers were full of splinters. Oh, no, I hate these stories. Right. After we, in parentheses, small children, had just been told this graphic story of a child our age being buried alive after being quote unquote killed

by the very animal we were, we would be forced to ride the very next day. Most of us were very upset and crying. We always said a prayer and sang a camp song over the grave after hearing the story. Looking back, I imagine it was very comical for the counselors to make 15 eight-year-olds sing a shanty camp song while crying and stand in the middle of grief. These counselors were fucked up. Evil, evil. I haven't been back to the camp in many years, but I'm sure that young kids are still getting traumatized there every summer. I've Googled the cemetery and Mabel and haven't found anything about it. If the story was true, my guess is probably not. I'm going to go ahead and confirm that guess. I don't think it's true. It's not true. Side note, the camp program

was called Crusaders. Seems like an interesting part of the Bible to want to recreate a summer camp. Anyways, thank you ladies for all you do. Your podcasts have played in my ears for many, many hours of studying as I work on my nursing degree. How do you read and study and listen to this bullshit? No idea. No offense, your story wasn't bullshit. I hope someday to be able to help survive as survivors of similar crimes as the ones you talk about. Also, because of you, I carry pepper spray, a sharp rod to stab the attackers, and a loud alarm with me at all times. Stay sexy and don't go to church camps with cemeteries included. Bella, she, her. Wow. Wow. Fuck. Why would they do that? Because then you're going to be screaming and crying in the middle of the night and they

have to deal with you. It's such a mismanaged, like clearly one of those counselors was reading some kind of like this used to happen back in the, you know, back in the, whenever Victorian times or whenever that was common made that up. And then they're just like, they combined everything in one, one super story. And I love that it becomes an annual thing. Like you have to, and then probably adding to it and adding to it. Oh my God. Yeah. Okay. So this one actually is from friend of the family, Brent Sullivan, the hilarious comedian, because he and I were at a party hanging out and we were talking about like glitch in the matrix stories, like crazy coincidences that don't even seem real and people don't believe it's real, but they are.

And so he told me his and I was like, well, you just write that in GA. So good seeing you Friday as requested. Here's my coincidence story. Back in 2010, I was living in Brooklyn one evening after finishing a show in the West Village. I left the venue and started walking towards the subway. Almost immediately I noticed someone walking in front of me who looked abnormally hot, even from behind, but he didn't just look hot. He looked familiar. I slowly started to realize this guy, at least from behind, looked a lot like an actual runway slash underwear model, Ryan, who I'd clear throat masturbated to like a hundred times. In an attempt to confirm the sighting, I speed walked ahead of this guy until I was maybe 20 feet in front. Then I pulled over to the side

and pretended to be lost so I could get a good glimpse of his face as he walked by was my heart racing. Yes, was I planning on saying anything to him? Probably not, but maybe much to my surprise as I turned around and got a good look at the dude. He was not, in fact, Ryan the model. I was actually bummed, but it was a nice night out. So I decided to take a stroll and walk it off. Immediately I meandered my way back to the L train, which was about a mile from where I'd been. I got on the train, put my head down and zoned out. Just before my stop, I lifted my head up and in what remains the single most surreal moment of my life, sitting directly across from me on the subway was Ryan, the real Ryan. Oh my God. As in the guy I thought I saw 30 minutes ago,

but didn't, was now actually sitting directly across from me. Every time I tell this story, I still have to fight the urge to think I hallucinated the train sighting, but I know I didn't and I wasn't even drunk. And in case you're wondering if I said anything, the answer is no, but I did join his only fans a few months back. Loll Brent. Brent Sullivan is one of those people where you see him at a party and you're like, thank fucking God, this guy, he was there when we met the night at the Halloween party. Oh, yeah, yeah. He's the greatest. And he's totally into true crime. One of the best comics. Yes. Right. The best jokes. Yes. So I was thinking it'd be cool to

have people write in their like coincidence, like glitch in the matrix. See stories just to add on the topic. What about extraordinary coincidences? Because his story is great. Yeah. So what do people send in these extraordinary coincidences that have happened in their life that are almost unbelievable that people don't think you're telling the truth? I have one of those two. And every time I say it, I'm like, this sounds, I sound like a liar. It's impossible. Why? What's yours? I was on AIM or AIM chatting with someone in like an emo fucking group early in the 2000s, obviously. And it basically, it turned out that he was sitting in my old apartment and lived in my old room with my old roommate. Whoa. At the moment we were chatting, they kept

getting like, oh, where do you live? Hollywood? Oh, what area? This area? Oh, what? And then I was like, is your roommate Janet? And he was like, yes, he was sitting in my fucking room. That's insane. I know. It sounds like I'm lying. It sounds like something a what's the called liar would make up. Confulsive. Confulsive liar would make up, but it's 100% true. Okay. That's amazing. It's totally get it. Okay. Got it. Because also that is insane. Yeah. The glitch in the matrix part is like, oh, this was like a mistake that wasn't supposed to happen. Like, I crossed timelines with myself. And this insane thing happened that doesn't, that means that there's more to the life than just what's supposed to happen. It's like, you know, it's a good example

of this is the, from the last mini-sode, the heart transplant organ donor story. It's a perfect example. Perfect. Okay. Okay. Awesome. We get it. Good. Send those in. My last email is the subject line says, museum visits grandma, where are you? Hello, MFM ladies and MFM nation. You asked for stories about museum visits and oops, mistakes. Finally, I have something to write in about. I grew up as a military brat and lived overseas a few times. In the late 70s, we were stationed in Berlin, Germany for three years. And it's where I graduated from high school. And then parentheses, it says, shout out to all Berlin brats. Shortly after arriving, we did the tourist day trip to see all the historical landmarks,

checkpoint Charlie, the Reichstag, Brandenburg gate, et cetera. Included in the tour was the stop at the Egyptian museum home to the bust of Nefertiti. After being there a couple years, my grandmother came for a visit. I volunteered to accompany her on the tourist tour of all the hot spots. So it was just the two of us. We got to the museum to view the bust. The queen's bust was in a glass case in a darkened room with a guard close by. Please don't think of me as a bad person. I love that. The preemptive line is great and I'm excited to hear it. Also, you can't control what we think of you. Sorry. I was just young, stupid and did one bad thing. I wanted a picture of the bust, but there was a problem. This was the 70s and I could only

afford a 110 film camera, which couldn't take low-light pictures like a fancy 35-millimeter camera. However, my upgraded insta-matic camera did have a built-in flash. I decided I was going to take a picture even after they said no flash photography. I know, super bad and selfish. I situated myself at the corner of the case so the flash wouldn't bounce back and wreck the photo and press the button. All the tourists around the display case parted, clearing a path for the guard who ran at me yelling in German. I pleaded dumb and apologized profusely. Meanwhile, my sweet loving little old grandmother who was standing next to me had backed away and faded into the crowd. Fucking save yourself, dude. Even if you're someone's grandma, save yourself.

She threw me under the bus. We laughed for years about how she acted like she didn't know me and left me to fend for myself. Admittedly, I deserved it. When the film was developed, I found I had not only captured a picture of the bust, but I had included the guard in the background. Oh my god. Somebody's running toward and yelling. Yelling in German, too, is intense. Yeah, that's very intense. Stay sexy and never take flash photos of art exclamation point. Sherry. Sherry, baby. Way to go. So good. Oh my god. I actually have a museum one, too. I could do. This is called Museum faux pas, literally. Hi there. I come from a city in southern Brazil that hosts a big international art biennial. My friends were very active in the art scene and being in my early 20s, I rarely said

no to a vernissage invitation. What is all this fancy shit going on in this email? I don't know. I don't know what that means. Is this some royalty writing in? I went to my first vernissage at the biennial. Like, who are you? At the Biennial International Art Show. So when my good friend invited me to the opening of the 2011 biennial, the thought of an open bar and possibly some cute artsy types from out of town lighted a fire under my tired, underslept ass. Getting there, we realized it was not the cool opening we were expecting, but a formal and uptight pre-opening event for sponsors, politicians, and the press. With the well since we're already here philosophy, we decided to explore the exhibition room while on the lookout for some hors d'oeuvres.

Hors d'oeuvres. The art was quite good, but we were hungry and aware that our stomachs had nothing absorbing the impact of all the spritzers. So when my friend reached in, her person told me, mouth open, eyes closed, I didn't think twice. But when I opened my eyes and saw her giggling like a little evil elf, I knew it was no cereal bar she had given me. It was acid. Okay. Can I just say, if anyone says mouth open, eyes closed to you, the answers get the fuck away from me. Yeah. It's never going to be a nature fucking valley granola bar. You've got to, you've got to be the TSA checkpoint to your own mouth. And I'm sorry to tell you that, party people. Also don't dose your friends. That's not cool. Yeah. As a funny joke. Yeah. She also takes

some and convinces me it's a very mild one, quote, it'll only brighten the colors. She said. No, no, it doesn't exist. Light acid doesn't exist. No, it doesn't. It doesn't be crazy. Acid light, not a thing. One hour later, the colors did get brighter, all right, but also did our foreheads as sweat started to build up also on an empty stomach. They're taking acid and some alcohol. We decided it was best to get out of there and started to make our way back to the museum's main salon, a huge open room where the main event was taking place. Getting there, we bummed into a group of acquaintances standing next to a sculpture of an oversized pickup sticks game made of hollow metal. And I politely took a step back so that the painful small talk circle would

accommodate everyone. My slowly tripping mind realized I must have done something wrong as everyone in the main hall went silent and turned in our direction. Looking over my shoulder, I see that I had accidentally kicked one of the 13 feet long sticks, which started a domino effect that probably lasted only a few seconds, but felt like a lifetime, which is what acid does. Imagine the sound of a 13 feet long metal pipe hitting the perfectly smooth granite floor of 130 feet wide, 200 feet long, and 45 feet high room. Multiply that by four, which is the total number of pipes that went their merry way. All of this while tripping on LSD and being eaten alive by the eyes of at least 100 stuck up art snobs. Next time I'll write about the time my mom almost

got arrested for leaving six year old me and eight year old brother alone in a hotel room in NYC to watch the fan of the opera during a trip to the States. Really not a big deal if you come from an Italian immigrant family that serves children watered wine, or as they call it, wine juice. And drinking coffee as a kid is perfectly normal. Love what you do, stay sexy, and don't drop acid in your big metal sculptures. God damn. That immediately makes me go, how come there's not some sort of barrier, even though I understand that they're probably. You just got to assume me, especially these days, people are high. Can we get a red velvet rope? It reminds me, I went to an art show in the Chinatown Arts District once, and then I was in this room

looking at all this beautiful art, and this girl and guy come in older, and she was laughing so hard, and they had to leave that I could tell she was on mushrooms. It was like that kind of laugh that you can't fucking stop, and you realize everyone's looking at you, and it makes you laugh harder, and then your friend has to walk you out because you can't stop laughing. That's what mushrooms are like, everyone. Yeah. Well, that's like the time we got high before going in to watch The Love Guru, the first morning it played at the Arclight, and so we were just kind of happy to be there, and it was back when I worked on daily television, so you so rarely got any kind of fun ever, and the movie started, and the first joke was so bad and stupid, and Ben Kingsley was

in it, that I just started laughing like, I can't believe this is what this movie is going to be, and then I could not stop laughing, and it was like everyone thought that I loved, like, it was like a Peepie Poopoo joke. It was so embarrassing. She loves those Peepie Poopoo racist jokes. She just loves puns and weird, and also, but I have to say, there was funny parts in that because he kept doing, have you seen that? It's like a visual effect where they make, they put an adult head on a kid's body, so it's Mike Meyers face, but it's like a little boy with like a little boy's school suit. That's top comedy for you. No Peepie Poopoo jokes, but children's head. Hey, write us your crazy drug story. I ate crayons on acid ones. Tell us your stories.

I switched hands with my roommate once when we were just, right as we were coming on to acid, I was like, I don't feel, why do we do this? This is stupid. And we were like sitting next to each other, and then we both looked down and both looked up. It happened at the same time. Holy shit. And I go, did you see that? She's like, holy shit, you have my hand. It was the weirdest like a shared dream. It was so crazy. And then we're like, here we go. Then we had a Christmas party. Oh my God. I want to say, I didn't swallow the crayons. I spit them out to make them pretty. My friend and I spit out crayons. They're all chewed up and it was a beautiful. Oh, like you created a new kind of art. Yeah. Yeah. Amazing. Avant-garde.

Because you know, like crayons, sure they give this color, but there's no moisture. No. So you need to add it with whatever you got. Come on. Texture. Thanks for listening, guys. Yeah. Be a part of this. Send your story in. There's literally pretty much every possible topic that you can write in at this point. That's right. Oh, and also stay sexy and don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an exactly right production. Our senior producer is Hannah Kyle Crichton. Our producer is Alejandra Keck. This episode was engineered and mixed by Stephen Ray Morris. Our researchers are Gemma Harris and Haley Gray. Email your hometowns and fucking arrays to

myfavoritmurder at gmail.com. Follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at myfavoritmurder and Twitter at myfavoritmurder. Listen, follow, and leave us a review on Amazon Music, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. And don't forget you can listen to new episodes one week early on Amazon Music or early and ad free by subscribing to Wondry Plus in the Wondry app. Goodbye.