My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 295

Episode Date: September 5, 2022

This week’s hometowns include fajita seasoning and another dad named Marty.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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This is the mini-soad. We read you your stuff. You sent it to us, we're reading it to you, and then we're video taping it and putting it on the fan cult. That's right. You want to see our makeup skills? Go to the fan cult and watch the video. I wish I'd done better today. I was very rushed.

Your eyes look great. Thank you. Your eyes look like very sexy. I'll just hide behind the microphone. Hide behind the mic. You want to go first? Okay, I'll go first. Okay.

And I'm not going to read you the subject line. And then it just starts like this. To everyone, all of you, this is an inclusive email story. Love it. Around 2007, my boyfriend, now husband and I discovered we were, what we like to call, surprise pregnant. As in surprise, you're pregnant at 22 with a guy you've only been dating a few months in the middle of a recession while working as a waitress. Oh, I thought you were going to say surprise cousins, first of all. Oh, that's way better. It could be worse, I think, is it something my dad likes to say?

Very true. He's right about that. But I just do like the bravery and the vulnerability of starting with a paragraph like that. Like, tell me every single thing about yourself. And this person was like, sounds good. Here we go. Yeah. Okay, so the next paragraph starts, in true basic B fashion, one of my food cravings was chili.

What's that? Basic B's. Love it. And then it says the restaurant. Oh, Chili's fajitas. So we saved up our pennies and we went for lunch. I usually like to sit in a booth by the window, more padding for my pregnant body, but they seated us in the middle of the restaurant at tables and chairs. Hate it.

Hate it. Get rid of all of them and fill the whole thing with booths. No one wants to be at the center of the fucking restaurant. You know who's done a really great job of that is the Wood Ranch Grill, that one that's at the Grove. Oh, yeah, I've been there. It's all booths. It's like a possibility. Like fucking denies can do it.

You can do it. Come on. Because also restaurant, please just note how many times you have tables and chairs and then for some somehow they get wobbly and you have people shoving napkins under there into eternity. Build the booth and no one will ever think about that again. If you build the booth, they will come. They will come and not wobble. Okay. Right.

Back to this rat email. Okay. So they've set the scene perfectly. Right after we put our order in with the server, I saw out of the corner of my eye, all caps, a car come crashing through the side of the building. It had hit the side of the building with such force that you could see the front bumper of the car inside the building. Oh my God. And it had pushed the table nearly over. It was balancing at about a 45 degree angle.

To make matters worse, there was a family who had been sitting there just before. I'll never forget the site of the baby seat, one of those ones that you attached to the table with clamps just hanging off the table. I made a mental note that when my baby came, we would not be using those baby chairs. Oh my God. So the family had got out right before. Correct. Yes. Oh my God.

Thank God. Yeah. You would think that there would have been a massive commotion, but pretty much everyone just remained calm. Because they want those fajitas. That's why. Yeah. Did she get her fajitas? Everyone remained calm and business went about as usual.

Our food was delivered and we ate our fajitas feeling pretty good about our center of the restaurant seating arrangement. I changed my mind. Turned on a dime. Sometimes I think that I made the story up in my head, which is something that would be very on brand. My friends say I like to season my stories with a little something called Lexi salt. It's fajita seasoning and I love it. Everyone loves it. It's real spicy and it is not entirely the truth.

You know, I have to give a little extra flavor that we get you Lexi. So even after my husband confirmed it was in fact true, I had to Google to make sure. Here's where it gets good. And then again in all caps. There is no record of this happening in Madison, Wisconsin on the internet anywhere. Apparently it just wasn't newsworthy. But turns out cars running into Chili's restaurants are a thing. Did you see how excited I got?

Right. That's one of my biggest fears and like really I do decide where to sit based on where's the car going to come in through. And while I have eyes on it. Why not? Yeah, the big thing for my one of my big anxieties. Sure. Because probably because we've all seen like internet, you know, the CCTV footage or security camera footage. Do you remember the one where the car comes up onto the sidewalk and the dad spins the baby around so that.

Yeah. Okay. Yeah. I've seen them all. Unfortunately. It's a true concern. And clearly there's a specific concern about Chili's. Chili's is a magnet for car bumpers.

I think it was because it's always on like a big corner. Totally. For sure. Like thoroughfare based business. Yes. Frank, please. Mommy's recording. Mommy's.

I've never heard you refer to you as mommy. That's so funny. I really stand against it, but I thought it'd be funny. Yeah. Okay. So cars running into Chili's restaurants are a thing. There was a car that ran through a Chili's in Bay Meadows, Jacksonville, Florida in Port Charlotte, Florida in Morgan Park, Chicago in St. George, Utah in St. George, the elderly woman who ran her car through the Chili's and decimated the building said there was no damage to her car because it was, and I quote, built forward tough promo code murder.

Like the responsible journalist I am, I called the Madison, Wisconsin East Side Chili's restaurant. See if I was hallucinating this occurrence. I love you. I love this. And the manager did indeed say that a car had run through the building, although she didn't have any idea why or how it had happened. It was before her time there. She did mention that when they replaced the windows, they didn't do it correctly. And now whenever it rains, it floods inside that area.

No. When I asked her why there was no mention about it on the internet, she flatly responded, they say what happens in Madison's case in Madison. Oh my God. We've been to Madison. It's a rad fucking town. It's rad. To show there. And that waitress is absolutely correct.

That's not a saying, but okay. But we can make it. We might as well bend the rules. So stay sexy, fact check your stories and always make sure to be seated in the center of the restaurant at Chili's. Yours truly, Lexia. Lexia, great job. I mean, great fucking job. Just A plus, just out of the gate.

A plus. You know, I don't think I've ever been to a Chili's. Are you serious? Yeah. Not on principle. We just didn't have like, we had Mimi's cafe, we had islands, we had claim jumper in our town. Oh, right. But then when I moved to LA, like they don't have those very, there's like, they're few and far between you're like, they're out.

And Culver City or whatever. Yeah. I wonder if it's a NorCal thing because Chili's was kind of like the place to go. Huh. But then they had good mixed drinks. Yeah. That's why people drive their fucking cars through the goddamn walls because they're drinking those Chili's fucking mixed drinks. They get out into that parking lot and they're just like, those Midori Margaritas were a huge mistake.

Gas break. Reverse. Okay. This one is kind of a really, it's long, but it's good because this is like, you know, one of those lessons we always talk about. It's called cops, man. Hi, fabulous all jumping right in. I'm from a very small town in the middle of Illinois.

Picture it. 5,000 people, 30 minutes from any nearest town, cornfields as far as the eye can see and home to one of the smallest Super Walmart's in the country. Huh. They still fit one in there. At the time, maybe 10 years ago, I don't want to count because it will make me sad. I was a senior in high school and still dating one of my high school sweethearts who was a year older and attending college in a larger town about an hour drive away. The route was mostly highway. So one would think it was safer than a one lane country road.

I was accustomed to one night at school night. I was driving home from visiting said boyfriend around 839 o'clock p.m. I exited on the highway and had noticed a cop following me when I stopped to grab McDonald's. Then it says brain fuel back in town. Oh man, that on the road McDonald's hits hits. It works. It's what works. Just like a hot bag of fucking nuggets next to you.

You just like snack it on them like they're potato chips. It's like, hey, salt and fat, get me home. That's right. Please country road, take me home. To McDonald's. But it's McDonald's. I freaked for a second wondering if I still had that bottle of rum chata in my trunk that I stole from my parents. Then it says what a fucking cliche because I wasn't sure and was certain I'd go to jail for life for possession of booze as a minor.

I obeyed all traffic laws to avoid getting pulled over. The cop exited with me and continued to follow me on the highway. The route started to become really remote and eventually there were no more street lamps and hardly any other cars. That's when he flipped his lights on. What the fuck I thought. Did he somehow know I was potentially trafficking contraband? At this moment, I remember my mom telling me that I should never pull over on a highway when I'm alone because quote, men, as she put it. So when this cop flips his lights on, I called 911 and then she was I'm positive there was a better number to call.

I just didn't know it to inform someone that a cop was trying to pull me over and that I would pull over at the nearest gas station, 10-ish miles away. The dispatcher, super annoyed by the lack of emergency, asked for my info and then instructed me to slow down so I could get a glimpse of the cop's plate number. This motherfucker got right on my bumper so I actually could make out the number through his headlights. Bad move on his part and here's why. When I told the dispatcher the plate number, she told me to hold on while she contacted the cop or something. I was on hold for a second. When she came back on and instead of annoyed, she was very concerned. She told me to stay on the line and by no means should I pull over.

She had me confirm what gas station I was driving to and in what town. Shout out Casey's General Store, the best donuts in the Midwest. Wow. Naturally, I'm panicking and damn near forgot how to drive, but I was close to my exit. Thank God. This Casey's is right off the highway and it was lit up to which I saw three state trooper vehicles waiting. Fuck, I thought for sure they knew about the Ramchata and that this was it for me. Still not onto it.

As I went to make my exit, the cop following me, lights still on, excessive, went to exit with me, but suddenly he sharply veered back to the left and sped off down the highway. Okay, nevertheless, I pulled into the Casey's to turn myself in for my crimes. When I pulled over, the cop's waiting got out of their cars and rushed over to me asking to confirm the info I gave the dispatcher, who insisted I put the phone on speaker, by the way, like, okay, nosy. Then I noticed that one trooper had left the Casey's heading in the direction of the cop that was following me. The vibes were not it, to say the least. To sum it up, apparently the cop following me was not on duty.

I was informed by the troopers that there was a series of women, aka teenage girls like me, who had been stopped by a cop in the area for the last few months and were sexually harassed or assaulted. The victims that came forward described a similar situation that I just went through. Dark, alone, a cop followed them, pulled them over, and proceeded to be a fucking predator. I'm not sure if this is true, but I'd like to give myself some credit that I actually clocked this prick's license plate, considering he was using his goddamn cop car, uniform, and badge to coerce girls. Not sure whatever happened to the cop, but I hope my ID was helpful in taking him down. I was still 30 minutes away from home, so one of the troopers escorted me all the way back to my house and then told my parents,

of course, Si. My mom still gloats to this day. Like mother, like daughter, we both love to take credit where credit is not due. Love you all so much. Your show's got me listening to podcasts and is still my favorite to listen to. I just graduated from law school and am now studying for the bar. Your show has always provided much needed humor on my study breaks. Stay sexy and never allow yourself to be alone with, quote, men. Be she, her.

That is such a good plan that if some cop is pulling you over in a weird, remote place compared to where they could have pulled you over, then you call 911 and say, I'm not going to pull over until I get somewhere where other people are. Yeah, especially if she was, like, purposely being a safe driver because of some other reason. Like, she's like, I know I didn't break any law. There's no reason for this cop to be pulling me over right now. This is weird. Looking for a better cooking routine? With meal planning, shopping, and prepping handled, Hello Fresh has you covered.

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It gives you everything, everything you need. 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. Hey, I'm Mike Corey, the host of Wondery's podcast against the odds. In our next season, three masked men hijack a school bus full of children in the sleepy farm town of Chowchilla, California. They bury the children and their bus driver deep underground, planning to hold them for ransom. Local police and the FBI marshal a search effort, but the trail quickly runs dry.

As the air supply for the trapped children dwindles, a pair of unlikely heroes emerges. Follow against the odds wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad free on the Amazon music or Wondery app. Okay. The subject line is when my dad threw me off a train. Hi team. I'm going to keep this short, hopefully. I grew up in Northern Canada and my dad was a train engineer.

We lived in a very small town in the middle of nowhere, Manitoba. We only had one vehicle and often my mom would drive to a nearby highway intersection to pick up my dad from work and I'd always join her. The thing was that there were two engineers on every trip and if he jumped off the train before it actually got back to the train station, then the other guy had to do the paperwork. I'd sometimes go with my dad to work and just hang out on the train. On this particular day, I was with him and he wanted to ditch out on work. So we walked through the train to the caboose and got out on the outside platform. I could see the intersection coming and my mom was sitting in the truck waiting. Oh, by the way, I was approximately five years old.

Train platforms are higher than you think and the ditches next to the tracks are deep. My dad tells me to jump and I can't. No, because you're five. Because you're five and it's a moving train. I had seen him do it so many times, but now it was so high and the train was going so fast. He tells me I need to jump because we're missing the intersection. I still don't jump, so he picks me up and in my head, I thought, oh, good. He's going to jump with me. I feel safe now.

But no, he picked me up and chucked me off the train without hesitation. No, no, no, no, no. You can't do that. You can't throw children. It's like a rule of life that like you shouldn't need parenting glasses to know that you shouldn't fucking chuck children off of moving. Chuck children just chuck her over there. Oh my God. I tucked and rolled into the ditch and he followed close behind.

The moral of the story is I think my dad really hated paperwork. Okay. I thought that would be shorter. Sorry. Love from Canada. Kimber. Oh my God. No. That's a good one. That kid, that five-year-old got chucked.

Chucked. I love that. Okay, I have a dad one. Hello, fellow murderinos. I don't know what took me so long to write this story into you guys. I guess you didn't ask for it, but I know you'll love it anyway. My dad grew up in the suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts. In his early 20s, one of his buddies introduced him to his pal Tom Randell. Tom was a few years older than most of their friends,

but he played a great game of golf and could hold his own. So he quickly became really close with the group. My dad and he became extremely close for a time. And when my mom and dad started dating, they set up Tom with a couple of my mom's friends so they could double date. None of those relationships worked out, but they had a great time. Tom even lived with my grandmother for a short time when he was in between places. Tom was a great guy.

He had lost his parents and only sibling in a car accident when he was in college. So sometimes he stuck around with my family for holidays, and it was a really big part of their lives. He was a groomsman in my parents' wedding, went on many vacations with them, and always had a good time. After the car accident, he had received a lot of family money and insurance money, so he was very well off. My parents said going out with Tom was always a very high-end event,

but they enjoyed being with him. Not but they enjoyed being with him and they enjoyed being with him. Your friends like a fucking high roller? And that's why they enjoyed being with him. Right, he was actually quite boring. After he got married and my parents moved to Washington, D.C., they were never quite as close, but still caught up with visits from time to time and phone calls as well.

Fast forward to December 2021, and my dad gets a call from his old buddy, Marty, and then it says, not George's dad. Thank you for clearing that up. Yeah, it's important. Marty says, are you ready? Sit down. He asked him, do you know anyone named Ted Conrad? My dad says no, and impatiently tells Marty to shut the fuck up and tell him what this is all about.

Marty tells him, you do know someone named Ted Conrad. Ted Conrad is Tom Randall. Marty then proceeds to tell him how in 1969, I remember when the story came out, 1969, Ted Conrad, a 20-year-old bank teller in Cleveland, Ohio, walked out of work on a Friday afternoon with $215,000, the equivalent of $1.6 million today, and was never heard from again.

That is, until 2021, he confessed to his wife of 40 years before he passed away, so his wife didn't even fucking know about it. It sounds like nobody knew. Nobody knew. He moved to Massachusetts and never looked back, made contact with anyone from his past life, or really made any mistakes. To this day, my dad can't even think about his younger days

without thinking about Tom and feeling a little sad, but also really impressed that he pulled it all off. I am too. My dad likes to talk about how they always give Tom shit for being a few years older than they were when in reality, Ted Conrad was younger than all of them. This is a 20-year-old guy who pulled this off. Holy shit.

Yeah. It's a wild story. That's all. Stay sexy and don't steal money from a bank, but if you do, keep it a secret for 52 years. Yeah. Jessica. I mean, the bank's ensured you can argue that that is a victimless crime, and then you can celebrate the fact that he got away with...

Yes. ...a pretty high-level crime, D.B. Cooper-style, but stayed under the radar for the whole 50 years. Yeah, and just had a great life. Maybe he didn't want contact with his family anymore to begin with. Maybe they were toxic, and he's like, if I'm going to cut them out, I'm not going to dilly-dally in therapy for years, like we all do,

and if I can learn boundaries, I'm out with a million dollars. If it was the late 60s when he did that, therapy was not only not an option, but therapy was basically being locked away. You went from basically going, I don't know, I don't feel great. I might need help. Yeah.

It was so much more extreme. It's like lobotomies for everyone. Yes, for real, like so extreme. Yeah, all right. Well, steal money and run away, and still be a great guy. Still be a great guy. Ted Conrad, you took that money, and you built a life for yourself.

Perhaps something you couldn't have done before? Yeah, I'm sure he was a bank teller. I mean, he's just had a normal job. Maybe, can I say, should we put a call out for any deathbed confession you've ever heard? Oh, wait, if you have a deathbed confession and you haven't written it in yet, you're dead to us. In your fam, and it doesn't even have to be

like the craziest thing you've ever heard. Right. I mean, everybody loves a secret family. That's great. Oh, for sure. But just any kind of like, hey, can I just put my chip in to say how weird my family is? Because that's what we really love the most.

Yeah, we want to know what your weird... We want to know the thing that makes your family like, either talk about this thing on the holidays or not talk about this thing at the holidays. Like, we want to know one of those two. Yes. So I'm not going to read you the subject line, and it just...

No greeting. It just starts in the Hermetic Lifestyles episode. You wondered aloud to your millions of listeners what would happen to the contents of a safety deposit box if someone died and had no family. Well, do I have a vaguely related answer for you guys? Love it. Love it.

That's what we love. We love it. I'm an estate probate lawyer in Washington State. When the medical examiner finds an individual who has passed away owning property, but they can't locate any family to assist with passing the assets, they have a list of estate attorneys

to call to handle the case. The attorney gets authority from the court to enter the property, secure the valuables, and search for estate planning documents and paperwork to try to locate any family. This is what... This is fascinating.

This is what kind of what we did want to know, or at least I love learning it. Sure. Because then, what's at the end of that series, and this is me talking in my opinion, not the email, in a state sale. I was literally just going to say that.

I was like, don't interrupt her, but oh my God, a motherfucking estate sale. Next time you can put your hand up. Okay. We should have things you can rig in, like Jeopardy. Oh, like a clicker, like, but I have that thing to say. I know what it is, it's a statement.

I know, I know, I know. Me and Chris Fairbanks had the longest conversation about that where he was like, I don't mean to interrupt, it's just that I really want to make sure that you know I know the thing. I'm like, I know. Right.

It's the human condition. Okay. My very first one of these cases is my favorite. The guy owned a house in rural northeastern Washington. This is 45 minutes from the Canadian border in a small town full of firearms and government mistrust. There was a renter who would not return my calls on the property. Later provided lease was real suspect, but shrug.

So my six four husband tagged along. We pull up to the property, chain link fence, multiple broken down vehicles, garbage scattered in the yard, barking dogs, shanty buildings. We knock on the door and the gruff bearded flannel clad renter answers the door. He shows us the trailer where the decedent was found and we don't find much. Then he takes us to the cement shed where the renter claims

the decedent stored all of his possessions, opened the door and it is just full of bags of marijuana. Oh, that's a good outcome. I was really worried about what was going on. Right. Anything was possible when you walked up to a cement shed. Yeah. That was like handmade.

Okay. Now with the proximity to the Canadian border, it is not uncommon that people in that area grow their own weed and sell it across the border. At the time marijuana was legal in Washington, but you were not allowed to grow or sell without a permit. And this cash greatly exceeded the allowable personal possession limit. So I do the only thing I can think of and call the cops.

So now there's this is like a little playlist with lines. So it says me, me explain background and what we found officer. It's legal in Washington. Me, uh, not in this quantity. Officer. Well, we aren't going to come all the way up there just so just do whatever you want with it. Me.

Dot, dot, dot. Okay. Officer. And that's how I became a drug dealer. Officer. Yeah. This is the beginning of Breaking Bad. Officer.

Burn it. Me. In the middle of the forest. Yeah. Officer. I don't know. Do whatever. Bye.

Oh my God. I just put that lock back on the shed and sold the property as is major bonus for that buyer. Oh my God. I love this. I love it. And then it just says stay sexy and remember you can die anytime and someone will have to go through all of your possessions.

So make sure to have something that will make a good story. See. And then it says she her amazing. See that that got me thinking of like, what's the weirdest thing someone would find if they like went through, you know, besides the normal dumb stuff, like, is there something they'd find and be like, what was she up to? I've expressed this to you multiple times.

I'm, I keep like diaries and sometimes do kind of like minor creative writing in it. Yeah. Like in a, in a notebook just to like to do morning pages. Someone's got burn those please. See what I went ahead and did, this was my solution as I made it public in a blog. So I have no fucking, there are no private diaries.

Did you ever write like poetry or anything on that blog? No, I've never written poetry in my fucking life, but I have done like short stories that I didn't publish, but I. Yeah. So I guess not those on my computer, but I'm not like whatever. Yeah. Fine. All right.

There's just a ton that are not finished. Maybe that's what's embarrassing is I don't finish anything. I fucking start. All right. It's hard. My last one's called the pool table incident. And it says a lighthearted, stupid kid story. Love it.

Live for it. Hi all. Insert witticisms here about all that you do. You rock, et cetera. This story concerns me at the time 13, my younger sisters and a pack of my cousins at our bi annual family reunion. We were at the home of one of my older relatives who had a very nice vintage pool table in his basement.

We have the younger set all played down there. Well, everyone else drank and hung out outside. Somehow all of the balls got lost in the depth of the pool table. I being the oldest, but definitely not the wisest told my youngest sister nine ish to stick her arm into the hole where I thought the spares were and fish them out. Before I go, I go on. Can I say that I was the youngest of the cousins and definitely got my head

stuck in the banisters on the stairs at a Hanukkah party. Scarred. Scarred. Because someone asked you to try. Definitely. My brother, I'm sure. Yeah. She wedged her arm into the table and then couldn't pull it out.

As my sister began to wail, I beat a hasty retreat outside in the hopes that the situation would somehow resolve itself without me. The end result was that the entire bottom of the very fancy vintage pool table needed to be removed to free my sister. I don't know whether all my relatives were tipsy at this point, but they all found it hilarious. Thank God for the softening. Yes.

For the softening, you know. Yes. For real. It has lived on to this day in my family lore as quote, the pool table incident. And I am pretty sure that after more than 20 years, my sister has forgiven me. Question mark. I think my grandfather passed away recently and literally every time he

saw me, he would bring this up. Stay sexy and don't listen to your older sister when pool tables are solved, Ashley, she, her. It is a classic ruse where when you are the youngest and older cousins or siblings are like, no, no, do this thing because they present it to you. Like if you do it, you'll suddenly be wanted, welcomed and liked. Yeah. You're the only one we can have do this.

Yeah. Suddenly you don't, you're not being pushed out of the room anymore. You're the key ingredient. And therefore you can get a, the littlest one to do anything under those circumstances. We need you now. This is your time Karen and Georgia to shine. Fuck you.

I'll ride that horse bear back or whatever I'm being asked to do. No problem. If you have any stories about how your older siblings used you terribly to do stuff and then got you in trouble. Yeah. Destroyed property, whatever. Do some morning pages about it and then send them to us at myfavoritmurdergmail.com. Thanks so much for listening.

You guys are the fucking best. You rule. Stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an exactly right production.

Our senior producer is Hannah Kyle Creighton. Our producer is Alejandra Keck. This episode was engineered and mixed by Steven Ray Morris. Our researchers are Marin McLashen and Gemma Harris. Email your hometowns and fucking hurrays to myfavoritmurder at gmail.com. Follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at myfavoritmurder and Twitter at myfavemurder. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Listen, follow, leave us a review on Amazon Music, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, Prime members, did you know that you can listen to my favorite murder early and ad free on Amazon Music? Download the Amazon Music app today. You can support my favorite murder by filling out a survey at Wondery.com.