My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 392
Episode Date: July 15, 2024This week’s hometowns include living next door to a serial killer and a scammer dad. Support this podcast by shopping our latest sponsor deals and promotions at this link: https://bit.ly/3UFCn1g Lea...rn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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This is exactly right.
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This is Kate Winkler-Dawson inviting you to listen to brand new episodes of my true crime
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Hello. Hello.
And welcome.
To my favorite murder.
The mini-sode.
Can you imagine that?
There's our new, there it is, our new tagline.
Imagine that.
Imagine that.
And then for some reason, the more you know, star
comes up. And we're the spokesmodels. Hi. Half of them know what that means. The other
half is too young. Absolutely do not. Do you want to go first this time? Yes. This one
is I think my cat is in witness protection. I really love this one. Hi, Karen and Georgia
and everyone else that contributes to this amazing podcast.
My ex introduced me to your podcast in 2020 and I've been listening ever since.
I thought about writing in many times about various topics you've asked for over the years.
My ex always told me that my stories weren't good enough to send in.
Oh dude, how would you know?
Yeah, like what do you fucking know about? Yeah,
how would you fucking know? And guess what? Look what I'm fucking reading right now.
Look what got picked. For the first fucking story of the episode. Out of thousands. Thousands.
Thousands. And then it says, now that I've been in therapy and I'm working on my confidence,
a big part because of your willingness to talk so openly about mental health, yay, I figured writing in was a really good step.
Eh, eh, eh, eh, love it.
Look at you, you did it, you tried it and it worked.
We're here for you, bottle service.
Okay, back in February of this year,
I began searching for a cat to adopt
as our cat Cheeto needed a playmate
and refused to play with our dog
no matter how much our dog tries.
Oh, a dog's trying to play with cats
and they won't let them.
It like breaks my heart on the internet, you know?
As I was scanning some rescue pages,
I found the cutest litter of kittens
that were white slash black slash gray
with the most beautiful spots.
I immediately reached out to begin the application process.
After the application was approved,
a wonderful woman that was fostering the kittens
reached out to ask if on top of one of their kittens,
if we would like to adopt their
mom who had been bonded to the kitten we wanted. We said, of course, because why not have three cats
and an 80 pound dog in an apartment? Yes, more the merrier. Get them in there.
You're my people. Shove them in. The foster woman then proceeded to tell us that the reason the
mom cat wasn't listed on their website is because her previous owner was trying to find her to get her back.
Now you're probably thinking what I was thinking, why wouldn't you give the cat back to the
owner if they wanted it so bad?
Well, it turns out all the cats had been removed from the house when the owner was arrested
and charged with murder.
Oh,
Yep.
This man murdered someone and they are pretty sure that our cats watched it happen.
Oh, no.
The cat's owner was then given a plea deal to flip on his roommate, who I guess was more guilty.
I don't know how that works. But due to the plea deal, the owner was out free and wanted his cat
back. The badass rescue lady said absolutely not, as this this man had a mile long list of violent crimes
and was clearly neglecting these cats.
She said when the mom cat first came to her,
she weighed only five pounds and was only a year and a half old
and already having a litter of kittens.
Oh, no.
Also, the only reason he wanted the mom back
was because she was a bangle, which can be worth a lot of money,
and he wanted to keep breeding her to sell the kittens.
Horrifying.
Thankfully, she is neutered and now is living her best life.
The rescue lady did warn us, however, to avoid posting pictures of her, especially with her
kitten for a while, just in case.
Yeah.
I know this email is already long, but I just wanted to say a big thank you to the two of
you for all that you do.
I can honestly say that you have changed my life
and helped me get out of a bad relationship.
Oh my God.
I just celebrated my one year anniversary with my wife
and have now gotten her to start listening as well.
Yay.
Nice.
Let me know if you want to hear
about the previous tenants of my apartment
being in hiding from the police,
how my mother traumatized my older brother
with the Easter bunny,
being an intern for a judge in criminal court, the time the SWAT team knocked on my parents' door, or
the Christmas Eve attempted murder that started my love of true crime.
Stay sexy, Sam, she, her.
Sam, it's your job to send in all of those stories.
I thought you understood.
It's our job to read them.
It's your job to continually write them in.
LMK, if you want to hear all my other stories. This is us LMKing you to everyone that we do.
Yeah. We're letting you know right now. The answer is yes. All right. Subject line of this email is
Israel Keys was my next door neighbor. No. Hi friends. On episode 46, skippers unite.
You covered my next door neighbor Israel Keys.
Kind of.
That's the one I didn't finish.
Oh.
If I don't remember, they don't remember.
It was like, I didn't finish my homework
and then I just read it and then it was kind of,
it was not good.
Episode 46.
You know, early days.
Early days.
I had two jobs.
Okay, anyway. that's right.
I grew up in Anchorage, Alaska
and out of all the 700,000 people
in the largest state in the US,
my neighbor just so happened to be a serial killer.
Thanks, mom.
Just kidding.
I love her.
Okay, we always invited him over
for our little neighborhood get togethers
and parties out.
Oddly enough, he would never show up.
It's not odd.
My mom found that a little odd
because out of every neighbor on the street,
he was the only one who would never come.
My stepdad loved to talk to him about his crabapple tree
for some weird reason.
Stepdad.
Stepdad, like stopping a serial killer
to talk about his crabapple tree
that he doesn't give a shit about.
He's like standing with his arms crossed
at the end of the driveway.
He's like, I see you prune that tree over there.
It's looking pretty good compared to last year.
You're gonna wanna get some fertilizer.
Oh my God.
And he's literally staring into the eyes,
like in a horror movie when the eyes are completely black.
Yeah.
Like completely, and then he's like,
anyway, crabapples, bye, talk to you later.
Oh my God.
Okay, go on.
And we would take him raspberries from our raspberry bush.
We never had an inkling that anything was off about him since he was pretty nice to
us.
We just thought he was quiet and kept to himself.
That's kind of the resounding chorus of all serial killer interactions because they are
apex predators. They do not show the danger on the outside.
Sure, they acclimate to whatever their surroundings are too.
So nobody questions them.
He's just a regular guy in Anchorage.
That's right.
He knew exactly how to be that.
The crab apple tree.
Oh.
I'll never forget when they started figuring out
it was him though.
My friend and I were hanging out upstairs after school
when the SWAT team showed
up and surrounded his house. This was before they found him in Texas,
but it was still terrifying to watch firsthand.
My friend and I were glued to the window overlooking his house while I was on the
phone with my mom screaming,
there are men with guns surrounding the neighbor's house.
screaming, there are men with guns surrounding the neighbor's house. Holy shit.
She thought I was lying to get her home sooner since I was a snotty little teenager at the
time and I had been getting caught sneaking out quite a bit.
So she never believed anything I said.
She responded with, honey, that's not funny.
I'll be home in an hour and hung up on me.
When she got home, she was met by several police officers at our front door, questioning her about our neighbor.
Needless to say, she felt pretty bad
about not believing me.
Yeah, mom.
And that's the message of this whole email.
Believe your teenagers.
Stay sexy and don't trust your neighbors, Madison.
Oh my God, Madison, why have you waited eight and a half
years to send the most classic fucking home down?
And Madison, I feel like, you know,
the reason is because Madison was probably 11
when this podcast started.
That's what, that's the vibe I'm getting.
If she was in high school when Israel Keyes got caught,
what year did he get caught?
I think that's 2000s.
2000s, yeah.
I think that's a guess.
Okay, all right. I'm gonna give her a pass on this one. Let's pass her. 2000s, yeah. I think that's a guess. Okay. All right.
I'm going to give her a pass on this one.
Let's pass her on this one, yeah.
Okay.
Thank you.
Wow.
Right?
Yeah.
Very, very.
Do you have any subscriptions that you keep forgetting to cancel?
Thousands.
So hypothetically, let's say you sign up for a Pickle of the Month club because you're
up late one night and love pickles.
I'm following everything that you're saying right now, Georgia.
It makes perfect sense.
I know, right?
And then six months later, though, there's no room in your fridge because you've been
bombarded with pickles and wasted hundreds of dollars.
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Cancel your unwanted subscriptions by going to rocketmoney.com slash murder.
That's rocketmoney.com slash murder. Rocketmoney.com slash murder. That's rocketmoney.com slash murder.
Rocketmoney.com slash murder.
Goodbye.
OK, this one's called murder home, sweet murder home.
It's just confusing.
And it starts, here we go.
In 1962, when I was one year old, my family moved into what would become
my childhood home.
It was built in the mid-18 1800s or so and showed its age,
but me and my three older siblings loved it.
After we moved in, the town historian let us know
the home's history.
Oh my God, do you know the town's historian is just like,
some dude who fucking lives there and-
With a very waxed mustache.
Oh yeah, yeah.
Bowler hat, straw hat.
Right, right.
He's like a laser pointer to show you parts,
you know, but he's not, but what does he, okay.
But what does he do actually?
How much money do you make as a town's historian?
Nothing if you have voted yourself the town's historian
and that's just your hobby.
True.
Are you a town historian?
Can you let us know what your deal is?
Please write in. Please write in.
Please write in.
Please.
Many years before, a husband killed his wife there.
He dropped her body down the well,
cemented it over, and then hightailed it out of town.
Oh, God.
He landed in the Pacific Northwest
where he worked in a sawmill.
One day he, quote, accidentally fell
into the giant whirring blade.
Oh my God.
Rumor is the ghost of his wife pushed him in. And then it says in parentheses, that last bit I'm not sure is actual history or if there was some punching up on
my older brother in the retelling of the story.
It's urban myth for sure. But oh my God.
But we're here for it. After dropping that nugget of info,
the historian told us that everybody who had lived
in the house since had seen her ghost,
including a past resident who saw her walking
through the wall where her phone hung.
So needless to say, I spent my childhood expecting
to see her as well with a mixture of dread and excitement.
The cemented over well was still there
at the side of the house and it says,
I'm assuming they got her body out at some point.
It's lore, it's history.
It's lore.
So every time I would walk back from my neighbor's house
at night, the last stretch would be a full on sprint.
The bottom line is though, none of us ever saw her
in the 16 years we lived there.
We even tried a Ouija board in the attic once, but nothing.
That's fucking ballsy.
I almost titled this a disappointing ghost story,
but thought it might hurt its chances.
You're right.
I'm wondering if we wanted it too much
and she could sense it.
Maybe.
Yeah, I think so.
Having said that one morning in the house,
my mother suddenly woke up in her bedroom
to see her elderly father who lived in Florida
standing at the foot of her bed.
He disappeared when the phone rang.
The call was to inform her that her father had passed away.
Ooh.
That happened to my mom too.
My mom was pregnant with my brother.
They were in New York staying at my aunt's house.
It was nighttime.
She flung open the window because she heard her dad
yelling her name from outside.
Janet.
And he died.
And he died that night.
He had died that night.
In his sleep. Wow.
In his sleep, yeah.
And then it says spooky, but sweet.
Yours, Dave.
Spooky, but sweet.
It says that. But sweet. But sweet. But sweet.
But sweet.
Dave, I'm obsessed with the well.
It's from that horror movie.
The, I was gonna say the cringe.
What's the horror movie?
The Grudge?
Yeah.
When the girl's in the well.
Oh yeah, of course.
So disturbing, just a well by itself.
Yeah.
Knowing that a body had been put into that well
and you just have to kind of walk by it.
No way.
No.
Jesus Dave.
Okay.
I'm not gonna read you the subject line.
It says, hello, Karen, Georgia team and all pets.
As I was listening to this week's episode
of the McDonald's Monopoly scam,
I thought Karen and Georgia need to hear
how my own father pulled off a scam with his Pepsi points.
You know I used to collect Marlboro miles. Does that surprise you as a teenager?
Not at all. Because, well first of all, you were smoking them, you got them, you smoked them if
you got them. But they had some great windbreakers. That's right. I wanted a jacket. Look. Yeah. You just want to pull Q. You want to smoke and then you want some swag. Yeah. Okay.
In the mid 90s, Pepsi had it. There's a Netflix series about the Pepsi promotional campaign that
this person's about to talk about. Oh, it's like buying someone a jet. Pepsi wears my jet. Yeah.
Yeah. Okay. So in the mid 90 Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Okay.
So in the mid-90s, Pepsi had a promotional campaign where customers would collect points
off Pepsi products.
You would later mail in an envelope with your points to redeem for Pepsi gear.
I was seven when my family decided it was absolutely necessary to collect as many points
as we could.
We clipped the points off of the cardboard case boxes, stowed away every cap from two liter bottles,
and made sure we were only Pepsi drinkers
during this promotion.
There you go.
I mean, that is marketing success, 100% marketing.
That's a, you're a dream family.
Totally.
Meanwhile, I was like, can I please have seven up?
My parents were so weird about soda.
Oh no, we've never had soda.
I equate sushi with soda because the only time I was allowed to drink a coke was when we were at the sushi bar.
And it was like a special occasion.
Yeah, same. Yeah.
Yeah, it had to be a special occasion, which is like, what are you setting up in our minds about food and special occasions?
I don't think either of us have had a root canal and we're really lucky that we didn't drink soda as kids.
True, true.
My teeth are great.
Okay.
When the time came to exchange our points for prizes, my mom put my dad in charge and
told him to choose wisely.
While we collected points like our lives depended on it, we were a middle class family of four.
How many points could we really have?
Enough for a sweatshirt, maybe a sweatshirt and a baseball cap.
My dad carefully looks through the catalog of items,
made his selections and sent away his points for prizes.
You remember those catalogs too, where it was like,
they really gave you a variety of things to choose from,
cause all kinds of brands did this.
And yeah, and that's how Pepsi got in trouble with it.
They said they were offering a jet a fighter jet
Which clearly they weren't but then mm-hmm watch the documentary
Months later we slowly started getting Pepsi items in the mail a sweatshirt
Then a t-shirt showed up a baseball cap and a water bottle were next then a towel and a CD holder
All with the Pepsi logo, of course. But it wasn't
until the 21-speed mountain bike showed up at our door that my mom questioned my dad.
Steve, how many points did we have? I'm not sure. Did we have enough for all these items?
It's their fault they didn't count the points I sent in. It turns out my dad checked one
of almost everything in the catalog.
Within reason, he said, so they wouldn't question him, of course.
He wanted to see if they actually would count his points.
And they did not.
My mom was livid.
Me, a now eight-year-old child, thought all the Pepsi stuff was awesome.
Yeah.
Of course.
And none the wiser that it was all essentially stolen.
No, it wasn't. No, it wasn't. No,
it wasn't. You bought their crap. Yeah. God damn sugar water. Yep. It was not stolen.
This man is just smarter than the fucking system. He's gaming the system that's trying
to game him. That's right. And he gets to. That's capitalism, baby. Hey, baby. My dad
was far from a trash dad of the 90s. He loved my sister and I and did everything he could to give us the best childhood.
Unfortunately, shortly after receiving the Pepsi, but oh, wait a second.
I'm gonna fucking lose my mind.
I forgot about this part.
Unfortunately, shortly after receiving the Pepsi bicycle, he passed away from cancer.
He never got the chance to ride the bike, but you best bet I did when I was big
enough. And I love telling everyone how we got the bike as it gave everyone a good laugh. I'm writing
this email on the 26th anniversary of his passing. And while it's incredibly difficult, living 26
years without my dad, it's silly memories like these that make me smile.
Stay sexy and go hug your dad, Kelsey. Oh my God.
That dad was, Kelsey's basically saying he wasn't trashed out. He wasn't a cheater or whatever,
but it's like, but that's parenting. He loved Kelsey and her sister so much that he's like,
I'll rip off Pepsi for you guys. I want you to have a bike and a hat and a stupid CD holder.
It's almost like, let's see if this works
because you're not going to get in trouble if it doesn't.
I love it.
It's brilliant.
It's so good.
Oh my God.
So good.
What a great email.
That was an excellent story.
So good.
Georgia, do you ever think about home invasions?
All day, every day.
Well, it might surprise you to know that most home invasions happen in broad daylight
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I'm not kidding, Mo set the alarm off before
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Yeah, people are like,
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Yeah, they're like, your cat set the alarm off.
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Goodbye.
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your first purchase of a website or domain. Goodbye. All right, my last one is called
my 18th birthday party at Chuck E Cheese. Hi all. My little brother is the favorite child.
It all started when he and our cousin
were playing baseball in our yard
and broke the windshield in my mom's car.
Did he get yelled at and grounded?
Of course not.
They were just playing and didn't mean it,
according to my mother.
From then on, he earned the moniker of favorite child.
One day while at my brother's T-ball game,
my mom asked me what I wanted to do for my impending
18th birthday party. And while the conversation started about my birthday, we ended up talking
about what Garrett would want to do for his 10th birthday party, still months away. Oh my God,
the rage. My mom let it slip that she offered to take him to Chuck E Cheese. This was the ultimate betrayal.
You see, I always wanted a Chuck E Cheese party growing up,
but it's an hour away and we only had a little car at the time.
So my mom always said no. And it says, in reality,
she offered to take myself and one friend there or have a big party at our house.
And I always choose the latter because duh. So yeah, it's just right.
Appreciate that. Having a one friend party at Chuck E Cheese I always choose the latter because duh, so. Yeah. It's just, appreciate that.
Having a one friend party at Chuck E. Cheese
kind of defeats the purpose of Chuck E. Cheese.
That's just like on a Saturday,
not for your fucking birthday.
Yeah, you're supposed to scream in like groups of kids
are supposed to give you a bunch of shit.
It's supposed to be like total mayhem.
You have to like need a nap so bad afterwards
that like you fall asleep on the way to the car.
Yeah. Yeah. She said,
it's fine now though,
because we had a van and it could actually take a car full of kids.
And it says my dream Garrett didn't even want it. Anyways,
I was still absolutely reeling over this admission when I realized what I was
going to do for my 18th birthday, live out my Chuck E cheese fantasies.
I told my mom and she said, sure, whatever,
18 year olds aren't going to want to go to Chuck E. Cheese
and even if they do, I don't have to drive them.
I'm pretty sure she was expecting maybe four or five
people to come, but we had at least 20 to 25 teenagers
ready to play.
Yes, of course.
This was back in the day of gold coins.
They don't have them anymore.
They have those fucking little tap cards now.
They know for children.
Yes, no tokens anymore and no tickets.
Are tokens somehow bad?
Well, they're so disgusting.
I wouldn't touch them, but yes.
Oh yeah.
They're on like a little credit card
looking to buy a credit card.
Like when you're at the laundromat.
And then you keep it yourself
and no one else touches your credit card
because we're living in a post pandemic world.
Right.
And then the tickets are on that card too. and they tell you how many tickets you have.
So there's no like, tickets coming out of the game, you know?
That sucks.
It's sad.
That changes Skeeball like fundamentally.
Yeah, 100% kids these days. This was back in the day of gold coins for the machines. So my mom had
huge buckets of coins, like a leprechaun dishing them out to us. Only awkward part was when Chuck himself
came out and I had to stand up by him and a somewhat confused worker while they sang me
happy birthday. I don't think they get many 18th birthdays there for some reason. It was honestly
a pretty amazing birthday and now my husband who was at that birthday and I take our girls to that
same Chuck E. Cheese during the freezing Wisconsin
winters when you can't do anything outside. It's changed a lot, but I saw Chuck the other
day and I'm pretty sure he remembered me. Ssdgmbree.
I've never heard anybody refer to Chuck E. Cheese by just his first name like he's a
businessman.
Charles Entertainment Cheese. That's his full name.
That's right.
He knows how to entertain.
I love the idea that it's like, you know what?
I am gonna go back.
They say you can't go back.
I'm going to go back.
I'm gonna reclaim this.
Such an 18 year old, I'm still kind of a kid.
I'm not a grownup yet.
I wanna like do something silly still.
And everyone, all your friends are on board.
Like, hell fucking yeah, we'll do that silly thing with you.
Yeah, because they all know this is like,
we're at the sunset of our childhood.
Yeah.
So do it now while you can.
I love it.
I do love it.
OK, here's my last one.
OK.
Celebrity encounter, Dame Judi Dench.
Oh! I mean, are you fucking kidding me? Oh, my god. Hi, all. Here's my last one. Okay. Celebrity encounter, Dame Judi Dench.
I mean, are you fucking kidding me?
Oh my God.
Hi all, I'll get right to it.
This has long been one of my favorite
with a U stories to tell,
mainly due to Dame Judi Dench's status
as a genuine national treasure
and the unexpected nature of this encounter.
I grew up in a small town in the south of England
and the lovely Miss Dench lives in the next village.
She was known to pop into our school performances on occasion that right there.
I want to start crying.
She's like, I'll go down and watch you guys put on the lottery by Shirley Jackson.
No problem. I'd love to see.
But at 15, I'd never been lucky enough to catch a glimpse.
So imagine the scene.
I'm a maybe just turned 15 bookworm who's working her first proper Saturday job at a
tiny chip shop on the outskirts of town.
Generally our customers were regulars and not really remarkable.
God, no offense.
One Saturday though, the boss had taken a call and then suddenly got busy.
He was cooking up more cotton chips than I thought we could possibly sell.
All the while I'm just sitting on a tiny stool reading my book and occasionally getting up
to wrap a few portions of fish and chips and stacking them in the warming cupboard.
My first job was at a yogurt shop and I sat on a stool
and read Stephen King. And I did it even the day that the owner came in because I didn't
know that I should get up and wipe counters and pretend. I was like, yeah, I'm here to
read the book and man the counter. No one's in here. Like it was so embarrassing after
the fact. I can't believe she didn't fire me on the spot. Okay. Anyway, that's amazing.
It's not about me. That's amazing.
It's not about me.
It's about Judy Bunch.
I look up and a smallish older lady gets out of a modest car and heads toward the chippy.
Now I should probably add that as an adult, I'm basically useless without my glasses.
But at 15, I hadn't yet dealt with that need and life was all a little bit blurry.
So this lady opens the door to the shop and says, hi, I called ahead.
You've got 30 portions of fish and chips ready for me, I believe.
Folks, that smallish lady in the tiny chippy on the edge of an equally
tiny town was Judy Dench.
I stuttered, let me check if it's all ready for you and headed off to find the boss
man skidding to a stop.
He looks at me and says,
don't panic, treat her like she's anyone else. That's why she comes to me. So I handed over
the bags full of fish and chips, told her the total and watched as she wrote me a check
to pay signed with the most beautiful signature. I placed the check in the till, wished her
a good evening and picked my book back up as she walked out the door, telling me as she left, tell, what if I just started crying
again?
And I don't even know what happened.
It's just the end of every email makes me cry.
And telling me as she left, it's my grandson's birthday.
All he wanted was for us to eat fish and chips out of the paper.
And that was that.
She was glorious. It made my year. And ever since,
I've always referred to her as my pal Judy. Thank you for all you do raising awareness
of mental health, not drinking when it stops feeling good and generally being the best.
Appreciate it. Stay sexy and treat her like she's anyone else. Rachel.
Oh my God.
Oh, so satisfying.
Beautiful.
What a beautiful story.
Just treat celebrities like people.
Yeah.
Although I wouldn't have been able to do that with Judi Dench,
I don't think.
I would have been a little bit awestruck.
Have you ever seen the thing, there's a clip, it's on TikTok,
but it's a clip from the Graham Norton show and they ask her to do a little bit of Shakespeare.
And then she's like, well, that's weird and uncomfortable. And but it's like, but just do it. And then she fucking like she does a sonnet.
And it's all like this comedy show. And you get it. And suddenly, yes, suddenly you understand what the sonnet is about.
And also you're like, this is the most compelling person on the planet.
Yeah, totally.
Like you're making me want to listen to a Shakespearean sonnet.
So good.
I can play it cool around famous people except Corey Feldman, but Liza Minnelli would be
my, oh no, I can't.
I can't play it cool.
Liza Minnelli, well, I think she's up in the Judy Dench
range of like a talent that is superseded time, basically.
Yeah.
Whew.
Wow.
That was amazing, great, great one.
What a series of emails.
Yeah.
That was really awesome, thank you, Rachel.
Such good advice.
Yeah.
We've done it again.
Yeah, thanks for writing in, you guys.
We really appreciate it.
Or thanks for just listening if you didn't write in.
I like that we just read everybody else's emails
and I said we did it again.
We read them again.
That was the universal we.
That was the collective we as a whole.
And also to the collective we as a whole, stay sexy.
And don't get murdered.
Goodbye.
Elvis, do you want a cookie?
Ah.
This has been an Exactly Right production.
Our senior producer is Alejandra Keck.
Our editor is Aristotle Acevedo.
This episode was mixed by Liana Squalacci.
Email your hometowns to MyFavoriteMurder at gmail.com.
And follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at My Favorite Murder and on Twitter at MyFaveMurder.
Goodbye!