My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 318

Episode Date: February 13, 2023

This week’s hometowns include finding traysure in a thrift store and a prank gone wrong.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This is actually happening is a podcast that features extraordinary true stories of life-changing events told by the people who live them. In a special five-part series called Point Blank, this is actually happening sheds a light on the forgotten spree killings of Rancho Tejama. So this is actually happening wherever you get your podcasts. Hello! And welcome to my favorite murder. The Minisodes.

That's right. The Minisode period of your life. This is the era where we read you your emails and then this generation where you write them in if you have them. Yeah. It's the season of your life where you should write in a Minisode and we'll read it to you. So many have. We're about to give you some examples.

That's right. You want to go first? Let's do it. The subject line of this email is, How I lost my Murderino card? And then it says, Hi. No witty greetings. Sorry. I work at a large hospital system in Southwest Virginia.

I hate to park in a large parking garage because spaces are too close and assholes can't park. So I was walking in my car which was parked in the nearby overflow gravel lot past the employee parking garage. I have to walk through the bottom level of the parking garage to get there. As I'm approaching the parking level exit where the cars leave from, I would have loved to gone over this email and made some edits. Red line. A couple things.

We all know what an exit means. I spy a large black briefcase sitting in the only empty parking spot in that last row. I think, hmm, somebody must have forgot they set it down and then drove off without it. I'm not in a big hurry so I approach the briefcase. I look it over and unzip the one side pocket. Nothing there. I decide I should call hospital police slash security. I make the call and tell them what I found and then I'll wait for them by the briefcase.

I wait and wait and wait and no one comes. I look over to where my car is in the overflow lot and I see a hospital police car meandering its way through the gravel lot. I grab the briefcase and start running toward the gravel lot as they're approaching the exit because I don't want to miss them. As I'm running and shaking the briefcase in front of me, I'm yelling, hey, hey, hey, officers, hey, I've got it right here. They immediately come to a halt, roll the window down and yell at me, stop.

I'm like, what the hell? But I stop and say out of breath because I'm 50 something. I found this briefcase in the parking spot in the garage and I called it in. The officer looks at me with this, your dumbest shit look on his face and says, did you ever think it might be a bomb? He instructed me to lower the case and not come any closer. I lower the briefcase to the ground. He exited the vehicle talking on his radio, probably explaining that a moron who works

here just ran like a jackass toward their police car with a bomb filled briefcase. I cannot believe that the thought never entered my mind. I listen to true crime all day, every day in my car while I'm cleaning at work. When I can't even listen to my chipper, happy, happy, joy, joy co-worker anymore. How could I have not even remotely thought this could happen? I'm turning in my true crime card and questioning my participation in any more true crime discussions online. By the way, it wasn't a bomb.

Some doctor had failed to place it in his car before driving off. Stay sexy and read the damn situation, Beth. It's never a bomb. It's never a mannequin. I think those are like true crime rules. It's not a bomb. But I feel like a briefcase, especially, that's like from every 80s. I wouldn't go near it.

Yeah. Sitting alone. Totally. A briefcase. I wouldn't go anywhere near it. No. No. I would know it's not a bomb.

However, I would not go fucking near it. No. Beth was like, I'm going to get up close to it. I'm going to look through the pockets. I'm going to give it a hug. I'm going to run around. I'm going to shake it over my head. I'm going to run and jog.

I love it. I'm going to jostle it all around. You could say that you're losing your true crime card with that and I get it. Or did you just earn a gold star? Yeah. Because you dove right in and got involved. Yeah. No fear.

I like it. No fear. Yeah. That's right. All right. This one's called L.D. Sibling, fake kidnapping, tooth loss. Hey.

Well, I know y'all are obsessed with L.D.'s sibling pranks and shenanigans and I'd like to offer myself up as the poster child. Though I am non-binary, I was raised as a girl with two younger brothers. Though they were four and seven years younger than me, they were and are massive. My family's got that crazy Irish blood and an obsession with milk that makes our legs long. I knew you'd like this one. And our heads huge.

An obsession with milk. It's true. It's really true. Is it? Yeah. My youngest brother, Judge, what a cool name, right, was too big to measure on the baby scale when he was first born. Yes, Judge.

Giant babies. Yeah. Anywho, as the eldest, I had to find a way to put these giant jock boys in their place. I've done many things to dampen their egos and make them more considerate young men, but I think this story takes the cake. It was one of those glorious childhood moments when a large appliance is ordered and you get to play with the big cardboard box it arrived in. Nice.

Epic. Ever the Murderino, I decided to use our new toy as a learning opportunity on how to escape if we ever got kidnapped. Both my brothers took turns. First we would bind their hands and ankles with duct tape. We'd throw a strip over their mouth as well. We'd put them in the box, duct tape at shed, and stack blankets and pillows on top. And it says there were holes in the box, of course.

We'd turn off the lights and close the door. I'd start the timer. The goal was for them to free themselves from this kidnapping as quickly as possible. Where were my parents? Who knows. Tape over their mouth and blanket. It doesn't matter that there's holes in the box. It doesn't matter.

And I'm surprised. We were getting pretty good at the game and setting new record times. Judge loved this game and on the last game ever played, judge was in the box. He wetted the tape around his mouth, got that off, and began chewing at the tape around his wrists. He then used his hands to get the ankle tape off and burst up through the top of the box with momentum. When it came time to stop the clock, judge emerged with a mouthful of blood.

In the process of chewing through the tape, he had pulled out his first baby tooth. That's how fucking intense it was. Judge had no loose teeth going in the box, but he was sure excited to finally have something for the tooth fairy. My parents were not so thrilled and put a stop to our training, but honestly, I'd never seen judge so happy as to when he emerged bloody and toothless. One thing was for sure, that little guy would raise some hell if he was ever truly kidnapped. After reading and all that you do, Duffy, they, them, Boston.

Shit, Duffy. That was a perfect, perfect email. I mean, the training alone, because look, all of those kids are going to be able to use that training at some point for some reason. Absolutely. If not just as a child, your mouth and hands and feet were duct-taped and you had just to just stay calm enough to get something done and timing it. I love it.

This is how you entertain yourself as children and it's so important. It's so true. This is why screen time is, you know, it should be limited so you can fucking do crazy shit like this. Screen time should be limited and older sibling rules and regulations should be as unfair as the injustice of older siblings, games and regulations should be experienced just so people have that, you know, you come into the world and you're a little jaded. You're like, yeah.

You're a little tougher and a little jaded, a little untrusting. The odds might be against me because there's some real asshole older siblings in this world. That's right. Life is short and it's full of a lot of interesting questions. What does happiness really mean? How do I get the most out of my time here on earth and what really is the best cereal? These are the questions I seek to resolve on my weekly podcast, Life is Short with Justin Long.

If you're looking for the answer to deep philosophical questions like what is the meaning of life, I can't really help you, but I do believe that we really enrich our experience here by learning from others. And that's why in each episode I like to talk with actors, musicians, artists, scientists and many more types of people about how they get the most out of life. We explore how they felt during the highs and sometimes more importantly the lows of their careers. We discuss how they've been able to stay happy during some of the harder times, but if I'm

being honest, it's mostly just fun chats between friends about the important stuff like if you had a sandwich named after you, what would be on it? Follow Life is Short wherever you get your podcasts. You can also listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. First line of this one is Treasure at the Salvation Army. Hello murder queens, millennial tech team and furry beans. Big fan. When I was younger, my cousin and I were really into these interactive Nancy Drew mystery

computer games that we would play in the dark at our Midwest cousin's sleepovers while eating pizza bagels and fruit by the foot. Does that sound familiar to you, a Nancy Drew computer game? I'm too old, I think, I think I'm a little too old for that though. Okay, this sounds like something I would absolutely love. Fast forward 15 years to our yearly Christmas exchange between the two of us, even though we haven't lived in the same state for over a decade, I decided to go with a nostalgic gift and I wanted to get her the last game from the Nancy Drew series.

The game had been out of production for quite a while, making it hard to find any new copies for a reasonable price. In a moment of divine intervention, I was at our local Salvation Army thrifting for gifts when I saw, I kid you not, the very computer game that I had been searching for in the gaming section behind the counter. The risk here was that the games were all sold as is, so you could not see what state the games were in before purchasing them. Thankfully, I consider myself a gambling gal.

When I got home with my $15 treasure, I opened the game to see if the disc was actually there and not cracked in half. The game looked like it was completely fine, but I noticed that there was a bunch of loose papers and junk tucked into the game manual. So when I went to remove the trash, I saw that there was an unmarked envelope tucked into the back of the game manual. Inside of the envelope was $700 of cold, hard cash. Shut the fuck up!

Oh my God! A dream. I couldn't believe it, as a broke college student living in overpriced student housing, this money was life-saving. Needless to say, I pocketed the money real quick. Don't let anyone see it. I was planning on keeping the money in the envelope a secret, but my big-haired, good-story love and mom told everyone at the Christmas party that I had found the cash and a gift

from my cousin. This led to a cold duck, and then it says in parentheses, it's a carbonated red wine available in Michigan for about $4. What? I've never heard of it. Cold duck. Cold duck. I wonder if Vince has tried it.

Carbonated red wine. Yeah. Cold carbonated red wine. For cheap. We have to try that, definitely. So what they're saying is, this led to a cold duck-fueled debate on whether I should share that money with my cousin who I bought the gift for. No.

Long story short, I definitely didn't. No, you didn't. That was not. That's right. Stay sexy and always check your thrifted gifts for treasure, Krista. Wow. That is so cool. This is such a good one.

Yeah, I love those stories, like things found. Also when you're shopping at Salvation Army, $700 is make or break. I mean, that is like, that is the dream right there. Totally. That's like, yeah, my God, that's rent. I'm not going to read you the title of this one. Hello, my favorites. I love you all.

I'll skip the intro for the sake of keeping it short. Back when I was in college, the biology building was having a huge plant sale. For about a week, you could see students walking around campus ambitiously carrying their new plants to their inevitable dorm room deaths. One day, I looked out my dorm room window to the window at the building opposite mine. I noticed that a new potted banana tree had been placed in the hallway for sunlight. I kind of giggled to myself and suggested to my roommate that we sneak over to the other building, take the tree, and put it in our window as a silly college tree hostage prank.

She quickly agreed, and in no time, we had heaved this tree down three flights of stairs and then back up to be placed in our window with a large sign that said, mmm, bananas. We laughed at our cleverness, locked up, and left for class thinking that someone would get a giggle. We'd return it and that'd be that, wrong. When we returned a good three hours later, the girl who lived in the next room to us was frantic. She proceeds to tell us that shortly after we left, the owner of this tree showed up

with about 12 members of her family that were apparently visiting from Japan. Oh no. They were all crying and dressed in black. Apparently she had purchased this tree in memory of her brother who had just died and they were all going to gather together and plant it at his memorial. No. But when they went to retrieve the tree, they looked up and saw it in my window, taunting them with a sign that says in all caps, mmm, bananas.

Are you okay? Oh no. It's so bad. It's so bad. So we have essentially stolen and held hostage the tree that this entire Japanese family was gathering together to plant as a peaceful memorial of their beloved family members' life. No. This did not go as planned.

It's the opposite of what you were trying to do in a prank. That's right. Mortified, I go and return the tree immediately. I knock on the girl's door, dragging this big-ass tree. She yanks it inside while I awkwardly attempt to tumble apologies. She says nothing and slammed the door in my face. Deserved. No.

What a dick move on my part. Stay sexy and avoid kidnapping horticulture. A, she, her. Oh. A. Imagine. But they're in college and the whole idea and the vibe was like fun times. You could make a friend.

It's basically kind of taunting someone to say, come and prank me back. Yeah. Let's start something. It's just for fun only. And that is absolute furthest. It's chaos. It's chaos. Absolutely.

So worst case scenario. I know. You seem like mortified for them. I would have hidden behind the door. I mean, like, oh my God. Just left it on the doorstep, knocked and ran. Yeah, exactly. Also, I would have absolutely been the person who stole it thinking I was being so funny

and that idea that the next door neighbor is the one that basically had to take the real hit of like, get that tree back over here. Oh my God. So bad. Oh, I can feel that one. I know. I can feel the heat rising from my face. Yeah, it's just.

It's dumb fun for dumb fun sake. That is then the most offensive, hurtful, like, last thing you would want. Yeah. How about a new topic? Pranks gone wrong. Let's get some pranks gone wrong stories. Oh. Yeah.

Oh. Sorry. Sorry, everyone. That's why I didn't say it for last because it's so fucking horrible. It's like, yeah. Yeah. And also, mm, bananas. Like, bananas, like, shoving it in your face.

Oh, man, hard drugs. It's like, this is a very specifically American kind of, you're supposed to like this. Yeah. You're supposed to think it's funny. Get a kick out of it. The subject line of this email is suspicious iced tea. Hi, everyone. After dry heaving while listening to the hometown about the kid who drank her brother's pee.

I remember that one. I recalled the time I visited my sister for lunch. During our college years, my aunt and uncle allowed us cousins to live in a little beach shack that they owned and work summer jobs on Long Island Beach, New Jersey. My sister had been living there one summer and I would make weekend trips back and forth between LBI and Philly. My aunt and uncle lived a few blocks from the shack, so we would often go over while we work to eat snacks and take some rolls of toilet paper, et cetera.

Those are cool aunt and uncle. Yes. Very understanding. Yeah. It says, you know, college things. Yeah. And that immediately cuts to me in San Francisco, drunk in a bar, stealing rolls of toilet paper in the bathroom, like going pee and then going like, oh, we're out of toilet paper.

I better see. Yeah. And I can't afford toilet paper. I'm stealing it. Yeah. I'm going to get some of those gigantic sized, industrial sized toilet paper. One fly toilet paper. Yeah.

My sister and I were sitting down to some cheese and crackers when she offered us to get us each a glass of IC. She poured big pint glasses full. I took a big swig, held it in my mouth for a beat, and then ran to the sink. My sister, thoroughly confused, stared at me while I simultaneously laughed until I cried and tried to gasp out the words, it's beef. That's right. My uncle had made an entire picture of Aju.

Ew. I took this giant swig of secreted beef juice. I texted my uncle who responded, please don't dump it down the sink. It's homemade. Oh, beef broth, which like that homemade beef broth is not good. It doesn't taste like chicken noodle soup broth. It's disgusting. It's disgusting.

It tastes like kind of like a fatty tallow. Barrow. Yeah. Smell. It's very much like this is boiled bones left over. Anywho, stay sexy and sniff your drinks before consuming. Jessica. Just a thought of getting a nice swig of cold IC and it's fucking cold bone broth.

That sounds disgusting. Beef juice. Beef juice. No. Thank you. It's very different, very different vibe. Okay. Here's my last one.

It's really long. Okay. Sometimes mean cats are heroes too. Hi, hey, and hello. Let's do this, shall we? I wanted to share with you all about how my grumpy cat has tried to save my life twice now. I think it's important for you all to know that my cat Cosmo is sort of an asshole, but we love him for it, but it's true.

He hates everybody that isn't us and will glare down anybody who comes into our house from the highest perch of his cat tower like he was an evil wizard lord or something. He was a birthday gift for my husband and I told him that we could go down to the humane society and he could pick out any cat he wanted. Fuck yeah. Yeah. It's my dream. I showed up early that morning and noticed a squad of kittens up for adoption.

The kittens were in their enclosure doing cute kitten things, being all charismatic and whatnot. When we first spotted him alone in a corner, hissing at everyone who tried to reach their grubby hands and to touch him. My husband, who is also a little antisocial, instantly related and said that one. We took him home and it maybe took a few weeks of convincing, but eventually Cosmo had no choice but to love us and has been our little spiteful friend ever since. Back to the heroism of it all.

One day I was working from home and decided to preheat the oven to prepare my lunch. I did not realize that the previous night my husband had decided to put the plastic cutting boards in the oven to save counter space and he forgot all about them. It says husbands who are listening, don't do that. Come on now. Communicate, please. Yeah, you just preheat the oven. That's what you do.

Yeah. I then got a call and went to my office and shut the door where I remained unaware that my oven was catching fire and filling my entire house with thick smoke. It was until my cat Cosmo stood outside my door, yowling at the top of his lungs that I became alarmed and opened the door and saw what was happening. If he hadn't done this, I really don't know what would have happened to my house or us. My second story happened today and I'm still laughing about it. We recently got a German shepherd who was a very big boy and is still learning his manners.

Cosmo at best tolerates this new giant, chaotic entity in the house and he isn't afraid to whack him on the nose when needed, but otherwise is happy to pretend he doesn't exist at all. Unfortunately today, my dog Max got a little too hyped up and ended up knocking me down hard on the floor. I let out a yell when I hit the ground with a bang. Who suddenly comes barreling towards us out of nowhere, Cosmo? His hair was standing straight up on all ends, his ears fell flat on his head, Tails fully floofed out as he came screaming and yowling from the corner and fully attacked this 95-pound German shepherd in my honor.

It was chaos. It honestly scared the crap out of both me and Max. Max ran away with his tail between his legs and his eyes huge as Cosmo chased him down while I desperately tried to separate the two. Even after I put Max outside the backyard, Cosmo was pacing the door and staring him down. Tails still floofed with hate in his eyes. I had never seen something like this before in my life and I was honestly honored that he came to my defense.

I tried to tell Cosmo it was all a misunderstanding, but you know, he isn't really talking. I hope this story wasn't too long. I just wanted to give all the guard cats out there a moment in the spotlight because they are out there and even though they pretend they don't care for us much, sometimes they do and will defend your honor against a giant dog. Stay sexy and adopt the grumpy cats too, Melissa. Also, don't you think Cosmo is kind of teaching Max? Yes.

That's kind of good training. Totally. Yeah. The cats around here need to smack Cookie in the face a little more often. She's like, like, Dottie. We're always like, just give her a little whack on the nose. Dottie won't do it. Mimi will.

Not Dottie. Mimi's volunteering, I'm sure. She's like, what do you need? How do we train this dog? What do you want to do? Hero animal stories. We love them. We love them.

Don't hesitate to send in, especially like a hero cat, senior citizen dog, whatever you got. Iguana. You got an iguana story? Do you have a frozen iguana that fell out of a tree? What? You know, that's what happens in the wintertime in Florida. No.

Iguanas get cold and then they get paralyzed and fall out of trees. And there was, I just saw something on, like there was some article that was like, don't take those home. They're not pets because they just sit there. Do they fall in our lives? They just get too cold because their blood is cold. I thought they died. No, no, no.

They're just kind of like in a frozen state until the weather gets warm again. That's adorable. Precious, precious Florida animals. Yeah. Email us any stories that you want that you just think are a good story to hear. Totally. And if you want an extra story each there, we always put one up every week on the fan cult.

If you feel like it, if you're like joining. That's right. Do you like exclusive content? Yeah. We've got it for you. That's right. And others on that 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 Steven Ray Morris. Our researchers are Marin McClashen and Sarah Blair Jenkins. Email your hometowns and fucking hurrays to myfavoritmurder at gmail.com.

Follow the show and Instagram and Facebook at myfavoritmurder and Twitter at myfavemurder. Goodbye. Listen, follow, leave us a review on Amazon Music, Apple Podcast 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.