My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 329

Episode Date: May 1, 2023

This week’s hometowns include hiding cash around the house and a song about Mount St. Helens.   See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This is Justin from The Generation Y, and we're doing a four-part series unraveling the story of Khalif Browder, a young boy falsely accused of stealing a backpack and held at Rikers Island for three years without trial. This story is about a young life caught in the middle of the justice system. Listen to Generation Y on Amazon Music or wherever you get your podcasts. Hello, and welcome to my favorite murder, the mini-soad. That's right. You write them, reread them. It's so standardized at this point. It's an American tradition. It fucking records itself, essentially. It's so easy. It's so easy. It's an American tradition. Sure. Speaking of an American

tradition, how about this? Okay. This is a NASCAR I survived, and then in parentheses it says first-hand account. It says, hello to my favorite cult leaders. My name is Alexandria Alex, and unfortunately, I'm typing this email from the unfortunate state of South Carolina. And then it says, see what I did there? Please pray for us. In the last few weeks, we've seen everything from the horrors of Alex Murdock and the complete stripping of women's rights. As a pharmacist, I make sure to stockpile generic plan B and educate as many people as professionally possible on the ever-changing landscape of women's health and what options are available. She's amen to you. Yeah. Thank you for that. But goddamn it. I want us all to stop

adjusting and fucking take our rights back. Okay. That's a great point. Quick sidebar. But Alex, you're doing God's work. Don't stop. Okay. Enough about my current role. Same here. I wrote in to share my own I survived NASCAR story after listening to episode 368 about the Le Mans motor race disaster. This story takes place in May 2000. When I was eight years old, my uncle, who worked as a regional manager for a cable company, was gifted box seats to a NASCAR race and conquered North Carolina at Lowe's Motor Speedway. This was presented as my birthday gift that year, as it would be a fun, fancy event with my aunt, uncle, mom, and older cousin. I say older as in 40 years older. So he wasn't there to hang out with me. My dad had to work and was unable to

attend. Since I was eight, I paid no attention to the race, but to the complimentary cheese tray and unlimited soda. To be honest, at 30 years old, the same would apply as NASCAR is not my preferred choice of entertainment. Amen. Again. To be lucky enough to be in a box at any event is so exciting. You do not have to care about the whatever event is taking place. The box is the shit. Anyways, after the race, as everyone was exiting, the concrete pedestrian walkway that went over four lanes of traffic collapsed. It injured over 100, estimates vary from 90 to 107 people, and at least 16 critically. Luckily, there was no traffic at the time under the walkway, or the injuries would have been much more severe. My cousin fell the entire 17 feet to the ground.

My mom, aunt, and I slid down the concrete, and my uncle, who was following behind us, fortunately missed the collapse. Oh, that must have been horrible for that man. His whole family, he watched them all go. They were right there when it happened. That was wild. The person talking was on the walkway. They were on it. That is firsthand for sure. It says the section that collapsed was 30 feet long. Several victims were airlifted to hospitals and conquered and Charlotte. The injuries ranged from bruises and broken bones to head and spinal injuries, hospital officials said. Witnesses said bodies were lying on the ground and people were helping emergency workers attend to the injured. As far as I know and have researched

since, no one was fatally injured. So thank God no one died. My cousin's injuries were severe, and he is still unable to work to this day. Oh my God. Yeah. My aunt had broken vertebrae in her neck, but has recovered. My mom has a slipped disc in her back and has mostly recovered, but they both have flare ups of pain every now and again. I was lucky and only suffered concrete burns on my left arm and knees. The scars aren't too noticeable unless I get a tan. We were so fortunate. After the accident, my parents took me every other week to a psychiatrist, but those visits didn't last more than six months, as I never wanted to talk about the trauma of the bridge claps, only my petrifying fear of snakes. That's cute. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I fucking saw

my life flash in front of my eyes. Anyway. But what I really need to talk about is the thing that you really can't control. Right. Fucking snakes. And then it just says kids. PS, I'm no longer afraid of snakes, but have a healthy, you can stay over there feeling towards them. It's been about 23 years and I often forget that I was involved in the accident. I don't live in the area and I don't watch NASCAR. I did go back and run a color run in graduate school, and I had to walk over the new bridge. I almost had a panic attack, but I did it. I kicked the bridge's ass. Congratulations. It was a traumatizing event, but luckily kids are resilient and I didn't realize how lucky I was to have survived the collapse. Most of the victims were adults.

Thank you, ladies, so much for all you do, especially being open and honest when talking about mental health. Unfortunately, as a healthcare provider, I still see stigma among patients, but I love counseling them and saying, I take medication like this, and it's really helped me, or even mentioning going to therapy in combination with taking medication. Kisses to your four-legged children. Stay sexy and don't attend professional racing events. Alex. Wow. Alex, that is a good one. That's a heavy one and good. Heavy and we love a survival story. Sure. I was traumatizing. I guess not, but yeah.

Well, maybe when she was talking about those snakes, she was really talking about other feelings. Snakes as a metaphor. Sure. Okay. This one's called the first-ever ghostly testimony. Karen, Georgia, Stephen, Alejandra, Hannah, Pets, and anyone else who may read this, covering all their bases. Thank you for everything you do, blah, blah, blah. I'm trying to look busy at work and decided to write in about my family murder slash ghost story. Buckle up, it's a long one. Way back in October of 1896, my great, great, great question mark, Aunt Zona Hester, pronounced like Easter with an H, Easter, oh, so Easter, was living with her mother, Mary Jane, in Greenbrier County, West Virginia, when she met a man named

Erasmus Stribbling Trout Shoe. No. Yes. No. Erase, his first name's called E-R-A-S-M-U-S. Erasmus. Erasmus. Erasmus. This one's hard. Erasmus was a blacksmith who had recently come to town and nobody really knew a lot about him. They quickly fell in love and got married. Four months later, in January 1897, Erasmus was at work in the Smithery question mark, Smithery, spelled differently, question mark, forge. I don't know. He was a blacksmith and he was working. Anyway, he and Zona had basically an errand boy, I can't remember his name, who worked for them. Erasmus sent the errand boy to check on Zona and the boy found Zona laying dead at the bottom of the stairs in their home. He ran to tell Erasmus. Erasmus told the boy to get the doctor

and then go home and then he took off to the house. The local doctor got to the house to find that Erasmus had moved Zona's body up to their bedroom and was cradling her head in his lap. Mary Jane also came to the house and was watching the doctor and Erasmus interaction. The doctor was trying to examine the body and determine a cause of death, but Erasmus wouldn't let him examine the head and neck and wouldn't let him move the body. Suspish. That was me, not the letter. So the doctor ruled that the death was caused by childbirth, which is bullshit because she wasn't pregnant. And if she had been, she wasn't far along enough. And also why would her body be at the bottom of the stairs? Old timey, man. So anyway, Mary Jane is pissed. They have the

funeral where Erasmus is acting shady and won't let anyone close and keep shoving stuff around Zona's head and neck in the casket. Mary Jane later said that she thought Zona's head looked, quote, unusually loose. Oh no. Yes, shiver. So they bury her and Erasmus goes back to living life like normal. Well, all caps. Mary Jane was visited by Zona's ghost three different times, telling her she was murdered. And according to Mary Jane, even showing her a vision of her own murder. I wish we could see a little old timey clip of the vision. So Mary Jane goes to the town lawyer and the town doctor and tells them about Zona's ghost. They agree to exhume the body and do an autopsy. They found out that she had been violently strangled, her ligaments torn,

two of her cervical vertebrae had been dislocated and her windpipe crushed. There were finger shaped bruises on her neck. Erasmus was arrested immediately and during the trial, the prosecutor tried to dance around the whole ghost vision thing when Mary Jane testified. Erasmus's attorney was quick to bring it up to try and discredit Mary Jane and make her look crazy. But that strategy bit him in the ass because the jury was even more convinced by the ghostly testimony. Yeah, that's right. Erasmus was convicted and taken to the town jail to wait to be taken to prison. A lynch mob formed and they tried to kill Erasmus, but the sheriff stopped them and they got Erasmus out. He died three years later in prison from tuberculosis. I've been working on a script for

this story for about three years. So hopefully I can finish and get the movie made so I can tell her story to the world. She was nicknamed the Greenbrier Ghost and there are books, plays, and even a drunk history about her. Anyway, sorry for the super long email. Even if this doesn't get read on the show, I just hope I can spread her story to one more person. I appreciate all that you do. You've kept me company on many long car rides throughout long days at work and through college. Anyway, stay sexy and if you get murdered, visit your mom as a ghost so she can get your murderer convicted. Love, Lydia. Lydia, listen to me. That is a scary ass movie you're trying to write right now. And I hope to God that that mother, the first time she sees

that ghost, it's right in her face, right? Because that's how you would feel if you were like, did all that work to come back to tell your mother, like, no, don't accept this story. Yeah. Hey there, it's Karen in Georgia. Picture this. It's a cold night in 2010. A boy is stopped by the police while walking home from a party in the Bronx. He's only 16. He's been stopped by the police before, but this time is different. In a special four part series, the Generation Y podcast unravels the story of Khalif Browder, a young boy who was falsely accused of stealing a backpack and held without bail at Rikers Island for three years. He endured regular abuse by prison staff and inmates and was held in solitary confinement for more than 700 consecutive days.

And he was only 16 years old. We say innocent until proven guilty, but where do we draw the line between due process and cruelty? To hear this four part series on Khalif story, check out Generation Y wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad free on the Amazon music or Wondery app. Goodbye. The subject line of this email is I was an Arkansas woman murdered by Mormons and then in parentheses it says for Disney. Hello. Thank you all for the work you do. I've been listening since 2020 and your podcast has been a great companion through, in quotes, unprecedented times. Regarding your last episode about the Meadow Mountain massacre, I was able to live it. I'm a stunt woman and worked on a mini series called Under the Banner

of Heaven. Oh, yeah. They did flashbacks and I didn't realize that they're doing flashbacks too. It's about the investigation of a double murder within the Mormon community in the 90s, paralleled with the history of the Church of Latter-day Saints and would be up any murdering out Zali. Shout out to Disney Plus. No, no. We don't do that on this. No birthdays and no streaming service. Shout out. Yeah. This is not the place for your streaming wars. Although they are an employee. That's true. The series was shot in Alberta, Canada, and I was one of the Arkansas women with the wagon train fleeing and succumbing to the Mormon attack. And because this is my favorite thing to talk about right now, I did stunt work on The Last

of Us also filmed in Alberta. Oh my God. A stunt woman. I love it. This stunt woman is very good. Being on that set with so many amazing people was a highlight of my career and it's extremely rewarding to see the end result. Fucking hooray for chasing your dreams and working with wonderful teams. Thank you for creating a community of badasses and telling so many important stories. SSDGM, Celine. Oh my God, Celine. That's incredible. Thank you for writing in. Yeah, that's very cool. And I mean, that kind of stuff where like you don't, I rarely think about that, but like the people in the background that are like either the zombie, fungus zombie people that are doing attacking or being attacked or shot or whatever. Those are stunt men and women,

stunt people that are thoroughly like skilled and qualified. Totally. Just busting ass to be like yet another dead mushroom person in the background. Do we have stunt arenas? Please write in and let your presence be known. Stunt arenas? Is that what you called them? Yeah. For a second, I thought you were saying a word that had something to do with mushrooms. I was like, oh, I've never heard of it. Oh, it's really good for your brain. You should try it. Do we have portobello arenas out there? Let us know if you have ever been. Maybe we have mushroom foragers. Who knows? Lion's main arena. Mushroom foragers. Has your brain been completely rehauled by lion's main? Let us know. Okay. Things in walls, grandparents and treasure.

Hi friends. So my grandparents, Don and Janet grew up during the Great Depression. This being said, they were not very trustworthy of banks even into their later years. Sadly, my grandma passed away in 2016 and my grandpa in 2020. They had lived in the same house for over 60 years, a house that they had built themselves. So when my grandpa passed, my dad and his two sisters had a quote Easter egg hunt around the house. However, they were not looking for actual eggs. They were looking for hidden money. And boy did they find it. After a weekend long excursion, they finally called a quits thinking they had searched every nook and cranny. But it's over two years later and we are still finding hidden treasure throughout the house. Since this house was built by my grandparents,

they created and knew about every single possible hiding space. They had money inside secret drawers, behind cupboards, holes in walls and between pieces of two by fours in the shed. They really should have made a list of these in a map or maybe they were trying to be fun. I don't know. I think there should be a central list always for things like this. Definitely. Also, just because you forget, I hid cash in like a Manila envelope at the beginning of quarantine because I was like, what's going to happen? Got a bunch of cash. And then I was like, where'd that Manila envelope go? I mean, it's there someday if you need it, you know? I hope so. Yeah, hopefully. Perhaps my favorite part of this though is that all of the money was tightly wrapped up in a tinfoil ball.

So at least their money wouldn't burn. If the house caught fire, I don't think so. I don't know. It wouldn't burn. It would roast the horn on the cob. Be a nice roaster. All in all, the grand total from Hidden Treasure is about $20,000. Shit. Yeah. Oh my God. It's safe to say Don and Janet didn't want anyone messing with their money. Anyway, I'm an ICU nurse who frequently sees some shitty things and your podcast always makes my drive home after a long night shift better. Thanks for all you do. Stay sexy and hide your cash in tinfoil balls. Much love, Sid, she, her. Oh my God. I would love to be a part of the team of people going over your grandparents' house to try to find anything tinfoil balls. Yeah. Yeah. I live in an old house and there's got

to be secret passageways in here somewhere like a secret drawer or something like that. Yeah. I'll find something one day. You should start like knocking on the walls or, you know. Yeah. Have you been in the attic? No, I haven't. It's more like crawl space. Get up there. But the basement is definitely like a terrifying site to behold. Is there really a basement, a California basement? Yeah. I mean, it's almost more like dirt pile with the water heater in it. It's not like legit. Yeah. Great place to hide 20 grand. Okay. My last one is a Mount St. Helen's hometown. High to all. I was so excited to hear Karen tell the story about Mount St. Helen's last week. My family is from a tiny town on the Oregon and Washington border about 30 minutes from the

mountain. My mom and her sisters love to tell the story of the eruption. I think my mom was 14. They love to recite the song they wrote about the eruption. She blew, she blew, she blew her top. It's just writing that out. It's so funny. I wonder what it was too. Like what tune? I know. Was it their own original? Was it a ballad? I've learned to tune it out, so I don't remember the rest. They do it a lot. They must do it a lot. Another story I've heard is about a man named Harry Truman who owned a lodge at the base of the mountain and refused to leave when the evacuation order was put in place. He became a local celebrity during this time and ended up dying as a result of the eruption. So he was one of those people we talked about that like was warned, but then

they basically all pushed back. What a bummer. And then it all went down in a way no one expected. Growing up and hearing all these stories created a sense of pride and a little panic knowing how close we were and what our little hometown mountain was capable of. The mountain is always looming in the distance from my hometown and I vividly remember a beautiful spring day in 2005 when my friends and I were at track practice and looked to the mountain to see a huge cloud of steam and ash coming from it. Our track coaches panicked and rushed us all inside because they had no idea what the extent was going to be. Seconds later we felt the small earthquake that accompanied the small eruption. The ash fell and we were sent home. It wasn't nearly as serious, but locals

don't mess around anymore when it comes to Mount St. Helens. Most locals who have been in the area for a while have a story to tell about the mountain. My grandpa still has little vials of ash and he loves to tell about how they were trapped at home for a week because of it. Mount St. Helens is our little local pride and joy and it's signed Brittany. I love that. I want to go there now. I do too. Pretty great. There's nothing better than the first person story. You wouldn't think of it, but it's like that track practice story is so compelling because they were actually there. Like what would that feel like to watch a volcano blow up near you? Okay, my last one is titled, Do We Still Do Subject Lines?

Hello and welcome to my first email. I've been a long time listener, but my mom never had. No shade. She just never got into the podcast world. She started chemo back in October and she said, you should put on your murder girls. It would be fun to listen because you're always laughing at them and to keep me distracted. We did. Obviously, you won her heart over instantly. It was a mini so she realized why you two have been my escape for so long. I told her that I'm kind of bummed that I've never had anything crazy happen to me. So I've never been able to write in. And then she said, oh wait, did I ever tell you about the abandoned house story? Here we go. It was 1977 in Massachusetts. My mom was around 11 and her and her friends decided

to go into this old abandoned house that people said was haunted. Fuck yeah. As they went through the rooms, they stumbled across an old suitcase. When they opened it, they came across women's lingerie and clothing completely covered in fresh blood. They ran out of the house screaming to their friends in the neighborhood what they had found. About 10 minutes later, they went back in to show the neighborhood friends and the suitcase was gone. No, no, no, no. Meaning the killer was probably in the abandoned house watching them. I asked her if they called the police and she replied, oh hell no, it was the 70s. We didn't even tell our parents. Our asses would have been beaten and grounded for the rest of the summer.

My mom sadly lost her battle with aggressive cancer in December, nine weeks after her diagnosis. Jesus. Wow. When she took a turn for the worst, one of the last things she said to me was, quote, your murder girls will get you through this. No, no, no, no. I know. Thank you for the comfort you bring to me, especially during this impossible time in my life. Stay sexy and hug your mama and find out all the tea she knows before she's gone. Shaina. Oh, Shaina. Shaina, sending you hugs. That's tough. Yeah. We got her story, which is cool. I know. I was going to say, Shaina, forgive me, but I was going to say you were like, the murder was still in the house.

It's like, or the bleeder. It really could have been like a perverted 12 year old that was like that cut his finger on the suitcase or something or paint, maybe. I mean, but I only say, I say that a qualified say that because the suitcase was gone, which means it wasn't an innocent thing inside that suitcase. No, someone was actually there. That's what that means. And that is horrifying. Yeah. You know, life is horrifying sometimes. So truly, truly. It means a lot to us that this podcast of us reading people's emails and telling horrible true crime stories actually does anything for anybody. It's very, very beautiful to us. And it means a lot to us. We appreciate that we get to be part of your lives. It's really weird and lovely and,

and we're honored. We really are. So stay sexy and don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an exactly right production. Our producer is Alejandra Keck. And this episode was engineered and mixed by Stephen Ray Morris. Stephen, email your hometowns and fucking hurrays to my favorite murder at gmail.com. Follow the show and Instagram and Facebook at my favorite murder and Twitter at my fave murder. Goodbye.