My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 367

Episode Date: January 22, 2024

This week’s hometowns include a special connection between twins and a legendary murder in Canada. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Just a few of the reasons why we are Canada's number one rated online broker by MoneySense. Get started today at Questrade.com Hello. Welcome to my favorite murder. The mini-soat. That's right, where we read you your stories. We read you emails, the one thing people love the most, emails. Want to go first? Sure.

The subject line of it is eerie mirror twin coincidences. And it says, hey ladies, my dog Lily Pad has travel anxiety, but is the most common relaxed when you two are on the radio. Oh. I know, right? We love you and your mental health advocacy onto the story. My mom and my aunt are mirror twins.

If you don't know what that is, it's identical twins that occur when the egg separates in a specific way, sort of like the eggs were facing each other when they split. The resulting mirror twins have equal but opposite features. Wow. I've never heard of that. Have you heard of that?

No, that's fascinating. Okay, so here's the first story. In high school in the early 80s, my mom and aunt worked opposite shifts at the candy store in the mall. My mom was driving in to relieve my aunt when she hit a stoplight less than a quarter mile from the entrance.

As she sat at the light, my mom had a goose-pump-inducing idea. What if someone just walked up right now at this stoplight and tried to get in the car? The only way to get the feeling to go away was to physically push the lock down on her door. But as soon as she did that, she had another thought. Well, that's silly.

If somebody tried to get in the driver's side and I locked it, they could just as easily run around and try the passenger side door. So she reaches across the console and the passenger seat to physically lock the passenger door too. I guess you remember it's the 80s where we had no technology whatsoever. You had to press the lock.

Before automatic locking doors and cars, that's fucking, it was a long time ago. Okay, finally, the feeling passed, the light turned green and she finished her drive to the mall. Right as she pulled into her parking spot, my aunt came running towards her crying. She said when she finished her shift, a man followed her to her car and she ran.

He tried to get in the driver's side door, but she locked it just in time. And then he proceeded to run around to the other side. But my aunt launched herself across the car and locked the passenger door too. Wow, my mom's jaw was on the floor and she said, I locked those doors with you. Oh, I fucking left twins.

Right? Yeah. Okay, and here's another one. Second story, in college, my mom was on a first date. He took her to dinner and as soon as they sat down, my mom got really uneasy. She kept putting her hands over her face, saying something is wrong.

The waitress came, they ordered their food, but it kept happening and the feeling got stronger. Now she told her date, something's wrong, I need to find my sister. Her date tried to reassure her, but my mom wasn't having any of it. They got their food to go and got back into his car. My mom remembered that the aunt had gone to aure her, but my mom wasn't having any of it. They got their food to go and got back into his car. My mom remembered that the aunt had gone to a house party,

so she asked him to drive there. As soon as they pulled up and my mom stepped out of the car, people from the party ran out and said, your sister was in a car accident. She went through the windshield. They're on their way to the hospital now. They had only missed them by five or 10 minutes. When they got to the hospital now. They had only missed them by five or ten minutes. When they got to the hospital, they found that my aunt was fine, thankfully. When she saw the crash coming,

she put her hands up in front of her face and her big 80s rings broke through the windshield so she only had a few scrapes on her hands. Oh, holy shit. Right. I have many, many more stories, but those are the best and the creepiest. It is very weird having mirror twins in the family. Thanks for all the fun mini-soats. I too have listened since the number pun days.

I am so happy for you all. Stay sexy and listen to your intuition. A, she or her. That's incredible. Lock your fucking doors and put on your seatbelt. That's the other thing is cars didn't all have seatbelts back in the 80s. No one wore seatbelts. It was like your option if you wanted to be a prude and a nerd. Right, totally. I love that too because you know what it reminds me of when we talked about this one time and

then Steven got it for us as a gift, those Time Life series books, when it was like a woman gets a pain in her hand and 3,000 miles away, her daughter, you know, whatever something happens to her daughter's hand. It's the same thing. Time Life book series, yeah, totally. We should say, in case she's listening,

good girl, Lily, good girl, Lily. Hi, Lily. Hi, Lily. Lily, it's fine, calm down. Lily pad, you're fine. You're a good girl, you. Good girl, Lily. Hi, Lily. Hi, Lily. Lily, it's fine. Calm down. Lily Pad, you're fine. You're a good girl. You want to treat? Oh, sorry about that. Sorry. You want to go for a walk?

Oh, shoot. You can't do that. You got to pull over. That sucks. A gave us two amazing stories, and we thanked her by pranking her dog. That was rude. Sorry. A, forgive us.

Okay, this is a murder ghost and not staying out of the woods. Hi all, the recent mini-sode about the sisters who died on Sugarloaf Mountain in Campbelltown, or Campbellton, I don't know, New Brunswick triggered a memory of my own hometown legend. I am from about two hours south of there along the banks of the Miramashi River

and growing up by offing camp way back in the woods in a place called Dungarvin. They spelled out Miramashi, but not Dungarvin. So I'm gonna hope that I'm saying that right. Yeah, it's so free for all. Yeah. Legend has it that in the late 1800s, there was a logging camp near the river

where a young Irish cook named Ryan worked. What's up, Ryan? He would let out loud whoops in order whoops, whoops, whoo. You know, whoops. How do I say that correctly? And then slip and fall. Whoops, not whoops. Whoops, whoops, I guess.

Whoops, whoops, yeah, whoops. Yeah. Not whoops. Oh, whoops, I guess. Whoops. Whoops. Yeah, whoops. Yeah. The WH. He would let out large whoops in order to let the lumberjack snow when it was time to come in for meals. Like that. Yeah, right. Like a dinner bell, but with your, with your face. With your whole face. One day while the men were out working, the camp boss murdered and robbed Ryan. He passed off Ryan's death by saying he had taken sick and died suddenly and the crew buried Ryan's body in the forest nearby. That night a terrible whooping sound could be heard

which kept everyone in the camp from sleeping. Convinced it was Ryan's ghost, the men fled the next morning. I don't know how they would know that he was killed though, right? But this is legend type. Yeah. So it's probably collapsed and simplified over the years. Sure, I don't want to call anyone out on their shit, you know?

Well, no evidence of an actual crime exists. The story of the Dungervon Wooper has been handed down to lumberjacks and locals in the area for generations with people swearing that they've heard Ryan's ghost in the woods. The legend was even taken seriously enough that a Catholic priest from my hometown of Renus, what are these? R-E-N-O-U-S. Renus?

Renus. Renus. Renus. You just spelled it out and I can't imagine what that word looks like or sounds like. Is this Canada? It might be New Brunswick. Is that Canada? Yeah, I think so. That's why. It's Canadian. It's not me.

It's the very foreign, very exotic language of Canada. That's right. Okay, so the Catholic priest performed an exorcism to the area thought to be the grave site. The story has been turned into a song, a play, and a passenger train was even named after it as the steam whistle reminded locals of the legend. Fast forward to my late teens and I'm camping next to the Dungarvin lodging bridge with three girlfriends. After an afternoon of drinking and swimming in the river, we lit a campfire and settled

in for a relaxing night. It had just started getting dark when we heard a and swimming in the river, we lit a campfire and settled in for a relaxing night. It had just started getting dark when we heard a strange noise in the woods. It sounded like a low wine and it was getting louder and closer to us. Panicked, we jumped into my friend's car and locked the doors. We started screaming, convinced the Dungarvan Wooper was coming to get us. Then my friend Barry calmly said, don't worry, it's probably just a bear. To which I replied, that's not better. No.

Lucky for us, it was just some friends coming to visit on their four-wheelers. So we begrudgingly got out of the car, so they wouldn't figure out how high we were. Stay sexy and maybe stay out of the haunted woods, Sarah, she, her. Sarah, thank you for your transparency. Yeah.

That always makes an email even more enjoyable. What, Georgia, what's your choice of facing down, bear or ghost? Fucking ghost, absolutely ghost. Yeah, right. Right? Well, but at least a bear, you kind of know what's going on.

You know what I mean? Like a ghost is just surprising you in all kinds of different ways. Yeah, like metaphysical. Right. Super natural. You know, sometimes like a ghost will like go through you or something really weird that you wouldn't anticipate. Whereas a bear, you know, the bears is going to eat your face. Right. If I had to be gone through by either a bear or a ghost I would pick a ghost

I would do know it would just change like reality and on every fucking level. Yeah, I'll take it sounds kind of fun Actually, and it seems more survivable. Yes, they don't kill people. They just like whoo. They whoop they go With you. They just whoop at you Yes, that's gotta be the wings. Wings? Nice. Where'd you order wings from? Louisiana! Enjoy Wing Night End with Popeyes. Popeyes hand-battered wings are marinated for a full 12 hours in Louisiana seasonings

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Late nights, quick fixes. It sounded great, but you always left a mess. Honestly, you're straight up irritating. I've been vibing with Garnier Mysiller water lately. I can trust it with dirt, SPF, waterproof makeup. It cleanses, soothes, and doesn't play games with my sensitive skin. It's not me. It's definitely you. Swipe right on Garnier Myser at your local retailer or on Amazon.

Let's leave Canada for now. Let's get out of this country of Canada and go to a whole new place. I won't read you the subject line, it kind of gives it away. This email, very well played, I'll just say this. It starts heroes and their loved ones. And then it says, greetings from sunny but chilly Hong Kong. Oh, Hong Kong, okay. I think our first, our first email from Hong Kong, if I could be mistaken. I began my sojourn and theater world as a tumble weed from the Great Plains of North Dakota, blowing through Chicago, LA and points west along the way.

Wow. Right. Now I'm teaching and still part-time acting in Hong Kong. Your podcast is a constant companion on doggy walks, motorcycle trips to work or play, and climbs through the hills and jungle paths, which are far more prevalent in Hong Kong than the glass and steel towers. The latest mini-soad on our morning run

ended with a plea for tornado stories, so I'm happy to oblige. The summer before I went off to university, I traveled with an old-time circus tour through our great state, stopping for a week in small towns in every corner. Our venue was a massive circus tent with sectioned steel center posts, yard long tent stakes and momentous lengths of sturdy rope. I am really enjoying this writing so much. I am too, but that image, I'm like, what could go wrong?

Everything. Yeah. It being a tornado story and you're now describing the length of steel that's involved is a worrisome detail. Right. Right. List, okay. It was great fun arriving in town where local people with their tractors and sled chambers

were ready to help erect the massive structure. Of course, they don't call them the windswept planes for no reason. So on a few occasions, we had to haul the thing down quickly when a storm blew through. On one such occasion was, you guessed it, a tornado watch that turned into a tornado warning. We weren't getting it down quickly enough

before the winds tore out one side of the tent stakes and made the two tall main poles look like the main sail of a clippership. The wind had blocked the pulleys against one of the poles so it couldn't be lowered. Somebody, that's in all caps, had to shimmy up there The wind had blocked the pulleys against one of the poles so it couldn't be lowered. Somebody had to shimmy up there and release the pulley so that the tent wouldn't become a huge canvas obstacle blowing across the prairie.

Up I went, armed with a load of adrenaline and hatchet to chop the ropes away just in case. The pole, which was around 18 feet or so, was swaying to and fro like a blade of grass. I couldn't see anything but canvas until I climbed through the metal ring, securing the tent to the police and saw all caps, twin funnel clouds heading straight our way.

Not one, but two tornadoes. Oh my, why am I picturing this all in the 1920s or the 1890s? They're talking about a circus tent in North Dakota, right? It's so good. It's so good. It's just like the Great Plains of North Dakota. This is Carnival, that TV show. That's right.

I was gonna say Water for Elephants. Oh yeah. I'm feeling it. Yeah. Okay. So I worked at the pulley and got the thing somewhat loosened as the pole swung sickeningly back and forth, trying to keep one eye on the two funnels when I just gave up and started hacking. Fortunately, I managed to hack just enough to free the pulley and down came the tent. I had to wait for the metal ring to pass all the way down so I wouldn't get pinned against the pole.

And then I did a fireman slide all the way down. We got the hell out of there just as we saw the eruption of dirt and debris as one or both of the funnels touched down. Thankfully, the storm made a turn missing the town and our campsite but making an awful mess of the surrounding countryside.

The next day, we put the tent back up, and then soon it was on to the next town. I'm grateful for my ex-colleague Erica, who enlightened me to your show around the time you were just starting out. You've kept me company through some very dark times in the personal and political world. But I hope this breezy account will treat your crew and listeners, May May, my Hong Kong rescue pup and I, thank you for your company. You'll inspire and comfort people the world over

that you'll never meet and that should warm your hearts. It does mine. Cheers from a little hilltop village oasis in a bustling metropolis, David. David, I think we're ending hometowns at this point. I mean, that's really, that's the one to be right there. It's poetic, it's picturesque, it's- Everything.

It brought us somewhere. We lived through- There's a fucking dog in it. It's Hong Kong. May May's there to just, and I'm picturing her as, what are those dogs that are the dogecoin? What is that kind of dog?

The cutest dog of all. Yeah, I know what you're talking about. Is she about you now? Is she about you now? Thank you. Also Mimei, do you wanna walk? Mimei, do you wanna treat? So evil.

Oh my God, that doesn't work. You wanna go to the park? You wanna go to the park? I was in therapy talking about park's work, you know, which is like, there's different parts of you. And you can decide which one you wanna use to make decisions for yourself. It's really interesting, look at that, park's work.

But Cookie just kept thinking I was saying park's work. She just kept, every time I, da-da-da-da-da, she's like, we're going to the park? She's been so excited. What if Cookie's super excited about your mental health journey and she's just there for the strides that you're making? She's like, that's a great idea, mommy.

Do that, work on that part. Yeah, you are more. OK, a stolen car with a happy ending. Greetings to the true crime holy family, Karen, Georgia, and Steven's mustache. And then it starts. This isn't an eighth grade essay, so we're skipping the intro. Nice.

In the mid-80s, my mom left her car parked on a busy street so she and a friend could take the train to Boston. When they returned later that night, they found the car had been stolen. At this point in the story, my mom likes to point out that they found the car had been stolen. At this point in the story, my mom likes to point out that she left the car parked across the street from a church and under a street lamp to emphasize

that nothing is sacred. My mom reported the car stolen, filed a police report and figured she'd never see it again. Not too long after, she received a phone call from the police who, to her surprise, informed her that they'd found her car. My mom went to the police station not knowing what she might find but assuming it wouldn't be in good condition. Turns out her car had been stolen by well-known professional car thieves who were wanted for stealing cars regularly in the Boston area and stripping them of their parts to resell

them. When the thieves were arrested all they had managed to do so far was replace one of the doors and install an eight track tape track. What? A eight track tape player? Yeah. Why? That's right. Yeah. I don't know to which my parents always like to remind me it was very high tech at the time. Oh, got it. Yes. This is all. This is all. Oh, sorry. I thought they were being like, they were like retro like vinyl nerds. That was just like sure we steal cars, but also we have great taste. Yeah. My mom got her car back and drove it for the rest of the 80s with that amazing eight track player.

The best part is how the thieves were caught. Apparently the men would choose a random neighborhood and work on their stolen cars in a vacant driveway. were caught. Apparently the men would choose a random neighborhood and work on their stolen cars in a vacant driveway and that says a pretty fucking bold but also dumb attempt at hiding in plain sight so they'd act all casual. Like, yeah, this time they chose a driveway of somebody who had either very friendly or very nosy neighbors who noticed strange men working on unfamiliar cars in the neighbor's driveway and called the police. Shout out to my neighbor, Paul,

who would absolutely fucking do that. You gotta have one of them in your neighborhood, you know? Yeah, you gotta look out for each other. That's right. He invents her on like speed dial of like, hey, whose car is that up front? Nice. I love it.

When the police arrived, only one of the men was there, so they arrested him and took the car into custody. The next day, the other thief arrived When the police arrived, only one of the men was there, so they arrested him and took the car into custody. The next day, the other thief arrived at the police station to all caps report the stolen car stolen. To which the police said, we've been waiting for you. Points to that guy for being bold as fuck and for making the story extra fun to tell. Really?

Side note, I have been interested in crime since I took a forensics class in high school and was absolutely thrilled to create a presentation on a serial killer. Picture a trifold poster board filled with horrifying facts about a murderer in the style of an elementary school book report. Yes. Yes. I have been talking about murder at parties ever since, so I am so glad to have found my people.

Thanks for all you do to entertain us and create this community. Stay sexy and always spy on your neighbors, Liz, she, her. Liz is going to be in your business. So heads up neighbors. Right. Heads up neighbors. Okay. Here's my last one. It's a hero dad and treasure story. It says, Hey, y'all, love what

you ladies and your whole team do. Let's get into it. This is a little long, but it's totally worth it in my opinion. I heard a recent mini-sode about a hero dad and I thought I would take the time to write in about mine. I lost my dad this summer. I'm still healing from that loss. He was amazing in every way. And I don't think I'll ever not miss him. Anyway, while we were going through some of his things preparing for his memorial, we found a letter from the wife of his coworker in 1991 detailing how my dad performed CPR and called 911 when this man suffered a heart attack at work. The man survived and at the time of the letter

was doing well in rehab. His wife was so thankful, I think they mean like the hospital. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah. His wife was so thankful and pointed out the amazing part that my dad did this only six months after his own open heart surgery at the age of 41.

What? It says, my mom had no clue about this and he kept this letter hidden away. We were all stunned and it just continued to remind us of what a truly incredible and humble man he was. So it's almost like he went through it and then he was just like, yeah, I'm not going to let that happen to other people. Amazing. Yeah.

Now on to the treasure. My dad was a very talented vocalist and spent his retirement performing both as a solo act and in various bands. Again, while going through some of his papers after his passing, my brother found an envelope addressed to my mom. Inside was $4,000 in cash. And a note that said, thanks for letting me do what I love,

but not as much as I love you. My mom was shocked not only by the money, but because he was not the love letter writing type. But he was the type to always make sure that his family was cared for. That's why he committed nearly three hours a day for years to provide for us, three hours a day. That's why he commuted.

Okay. He commuted. Thanks, Alamond. Just sitting on the couch for three hours a day. He's like, you know what? I'm gonna give these people three hours and whatever money I make there, they can have it. My apologies. That's why he commuted nearly three hours a day money I make there, they can have it. My apologies.

That's why he commuted nearly three hours a day for years to provide. Yeah, that really has a different meaning to provide for us. While my mom stayed home and gave us the childhood, I wouldn't trade for the world. Anyway, reflecting on these stories has helped me through my grief as has listening to your podcast. I was lucky to spend the last week of my dad's life with him along with my son, who is his only grandchild and with whom he shares a middle name, Rex. My dad will never know that he would have been

a grandfather again this time till a little girl, but I will make sure that she always knows about her kick-ass grandpa. Stay sexy and cherish the time you have with loved ones, Corey, she, her. Oh my God, the crying. Right, hero dad. Love a hero dad, love a super humble kind of secret,

keep it all a secret hero dad, my God. Oh my, in honor of Corey's dad, let's all go take CPR classes and get certified, right? Absolutely. Been on my list forever. I've done it and it's like, I did it because it was truly two blocks away from my house when I lived in Toluca Lake.

And it was fun, it was easy and the information that they give you, like I still remember a lot of the information, one of which is there are defibrillation machines, I'm still remember a lot of the information, one of which is there are defibrillation machines, I'm sure I'm pronouncing that wrong, but they're everywhere. You just have to start looking out for them but if somebody like drops and is having a heart attack, if you look around, they're there and they're super easy to use.

It's like a four-step thing. You open a box and go, did, did, did. And you can like do the clear zapping and bring people back. That's good to know. Yeah. Wow. Okay. Amazing story. Uh, my last one is real romantic and cute. It's called Sistine Chapel of Love. Nice. Greetings all creatures, great and small. I don't tell the story very often, mostly because I don't think about it, but I can't think of a better place to share it. When I was in college, I had the fortune of having two friends who lived in Europe. For spring break one year, I decided to take advantage of the situation and visit both of them. After spending a couple days in the south of France with one friend, we both

went to Rome to meet the other friend, and we all spent four days in that glorious city. One of those days was devoted to touring the Vatican. Karen, your favorite. That's my number one city. The Vatican? That and Sheboygan. Those are my two. The New Brunswick, of course.

I was raised Catholic, and although I was no longer practicing, it was of particular importance to me. As a gay man, I no longer feel connected to the faith, yet the weight of history and tradition was palpable and I wanted to soak it in. However, it was in the Sistine Chapel where that weight dissipated in a completely unexpected way. Always a people watcher, in between viewing this plunder of Michelangelo's frescoes, I found myself relishing the diversity and reactions of the people around me. At one point, I noticed a couple looking at a guidebook. A man was leaning his head

around the shoulder of his male companion to read some tidbit of information. My gaze lingered on this simple yet tender moment. Suddenly, as if he felt the weight of my stare, the guy with the leaning head looked up directly at me. Our eyes locked for a moment, caught off guard, I blushed and smiled. I looked away quickly, but not before I saw his smile too. I was completely caught staring, but he did not seem to mind, and he was so cute. What followed was a dance of flirty eye contact and smiles. I don't know how long it lasted.

It could have been five minutes. It could have been 20. But as we moved through the crowd, they kept finding and acknowledging each other. Before long, I noticed that he and his partner were beginning to move toward the exit. On their way, he continued to turn and meet my gaze. Before they reached the doorway, I decided to move about 10 feet just to see what would happen. At the doorway, he turned and looked at the spot where he last saw me.

Not seeing me there, he began to scan the crowd until he once again found my eyes. We both gave each other a huge smile. Then he turned and was gone. It wasn't until then that I could begin to comprehend what had just happened. In one of the most sacred spaces of Catholicism, I just cruised a guy. And that man was the Pope. In the very room where the Popes are chosen, we recognized each other and found an unexpected joyful connection.

I knew right then and there that God does not give a fuck about being gay. And then it says in parentheses, snap. That's right girl. And to top it off, before departing one of the most renowned masterpieces of Renaissance art, the last thing that guy wanted to look at was me. Okay. And then it says double snap. Hell yeah. Yes.

For all you do and have done to create community, bring awareness and elevate consciousness. Thank you. Stay sexy and don't let religion keep you from finding divine acceptance. Mick, he, him. Oh my God, I wanna cry. Chills, chills. How sweet is that?

So good. Divine acceptance is truly, it's like, yeah, because you, just thinking about that in the beginning of that email where it is like being raised Catholic, it's such a weird experience to be raised Catholic where you're like, oh, this is how the world works. And then as you get older, I'm kind of imagining

that Mick and I are roughly the same age. Then you're like, oh, wait a second, not only does it not work that way, there's tons of other people believing tons of other things. I love that email, that's so- I did too. And also because I think probably the surprise coming from maybe him believing he was the only gay person

in that place where it's like, of course not, of course not. Beautiful, beautiful. Wow. Send us your coming of age stories or your enlightenment stories, right? Sure. At this point, also send us, if you've ever been in the secret Vatican, the underground museum where they're holding unicorn skeletons and stuff like that, I want to hear. If you're the Pope. Hey. If you're the Pope, email us. If you're the Pope, email us. If you're the Pope, send us a secret email.

Yeah, send us your hometown Pope, because that would be fucking next level. Calling out to the Pope. We haven't lost our minds at all. Nope. And calling out to you, the My Favorite Murdered Listener, mini or large, I'm talking about this show. Thank you for being with us all these years. We appreciate it

and we love you and stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Lothariel. That's for the Pope. Elvis, do you want a cookie? Do you want a cookie? Ahhhh! This has been an exactly right production. Our senior producer is Alejandra Keck. Our editor is Aristotle Acevedo. This episode was mixed by Liana Scolacci. Email your hometowns to myfavoritmurder at gmail.com.

And follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at my favorite murder and on Twitter at my fave murder. Goodbye! Bye! Bye!