May 26, 2025 • 25 mins
This week’s hometowns include a latchkey kid survival story and a deadly snail allergy.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:06):
Last.
Speaker 2 (00:16):
Hello, and welcome to my favorite murder. This is the
minisode Redoo your stories. You've sent us emails, We're going
to read them out loud.
Speaker 3 (00:25):
We've got them all.
Speaker 2 (00:26):
We get every single email. Nineteen billion sold in counting,
just steal McDonald's email rates. Can I go first?
Speaker 3 (00:36):
Sure? Let me see.
Speaker 1 (00:38):
That always means on going last, And so I want
to have a strong last. Oh, okay, you know what
I mean?
Speaker 2 (00:42):
Who has the best last?
Speaker 1 (00:44):
My last one's about snail, so let's do it. Okay,
what you have a good last?
Speaker 2 (00:48):
I saw that mine's about slugs, So let's just see.
Let's just see.
Speaker 1 (00:52):
Okay, this is called the Baby, a gas station, and
a murder. How I ended up in the middle of
a hometown homicide.
Speaker 2 (00:58):
Oh shit?
Speaker 1 (00:59):
Hey, Karen at George a longtime fan of the show,
Thank you both for making true crime feel like hilarious
therapy session with your equally morbid best friends. I finally
decided to send in my story, and let's just say
it's got babysitting, bitrail and bloodshed. When I was in
my twenties, I was working at a gas station and
a busy part of the city. I had a handful
of regulars that I saw almost every day, and one
(01:19):
of them was a sweet young couple who had just
had a baby. They were friendly, a little frazzled new
parents after all, but always kind. One night, the young
new mom came in alone with the baby and asked
if I could watch him for a few minutes while
she ran home to grab diapers.
Speaker 3 (01:34):
She forgot, it's a gas station clerk.
Speaker 2 (01:36):
Uh sorry, so you're going to stop off at the
gas station, not bring your baby all the way home with.
Speaker 3 (01:42):
You, right, But also like gas stations usually have diapers
in the gas station too, right. I didn't even think
about that to just.
Speaker 2 (01:47):
Say, there's all kinds of things at the gas station,
but not childcare.
Speaker 3 (01:51):
Lots of red flags here.
Speaker 1 (01:53):
She said she'd live just down the street and would
be faster solo, so I said sure, because nothing says
qualified babysitter like minimum wage in a name tag. She
came back a little while later, asked to use the phone,
made a phone call, and not long after someone picked
her and the baby up. Seemed like a weird blip
in my shift, but no big deal until the next
day when I was brought in for questioning in a
(02:14):
murder investigation. Turns out when she went back home after
leaving her baby girl with me at the gas station,
they had gotten into an argument that escalated quickly when
she found out he had taken a gay lover. She
ended up stabbing him to death while I was unknowingly
watching her baby like some clueless accomplice with a slurping
machine in the background.
Speaker 3 (02:35):
Oh ask my questions after, I mean, I might not
have the answers.
Speaker 2 (02:38):
Was it premeditated? Was that the plan?
Speaker 3 (02:42):
Like? This is my alibis?
Speaker 2 (02:44):
Why would you leave your baby with the gas station clerk?
No offense.
Speaker 1 (02:48):
She turned herself in the morning after the murder, which
is why the detectives were questioning me about her behavior, which,
for the record, was eerily calm. She later pleaded guilty
to third degree murder and was sentenced to six teen years.
Needless to say, I was completely shocked. It was one
of the wildest moments of my life. And now I
get to say I was unknowingly part of a murder timeline.
(03:09):
Stay texting and remember red flags don't always wave. Sometimes
they hand you a baby.
Speaker 3 (03:15):
Leslie.
Speaker 2 (03:15):
She her Leslie, nice one button lar. Yeah, and sorry
you had to take the friendly fire from me. But
it scares me so much that idea where it's like
people and it's been said a thousand times, so it's like,
you don't have to have a license to have a child,
right what parent in the world is like, you know,
I'm just go ahead and hold this baby first.
Speaker 1 (03:35):
I've come in here a lot of days before and
for you know, the minutes at a time.
Speaker 2 (03:39):
It's the lady with the baby at the gas station.
Speaker 3 (03:41):
Yeah, this has got to be cool, all right.
Speaker 2 (03:44):
Well kind of related. The subject line of this email
is a personal Latchkey kid. I survived Hi Friends in
the early summer of nineteen eighty nine. I was seven
years old and lived in Lenexa, Kansas, a suburb of
Kansas City, notorious for absolutely nothing. I lived with my
mom and her best friend, both of whom were pretty
young and outgoing, and in parentheses it says foreshadowing, etc.
(04:08):
My parents were very recently divorced, and my older sister
was in our first or second round of rehab all
around fun times for all, so I was left home
alone every day in our shitty apartment complex to take
care of myself. Moment of silence for the Latchkey kids
and the trauma they endured unknowingly by themselves, never really
(04:29):
processed until they wrote their book with their podcast partner.
Speaker 1 (04:32):
Called Stay Sex and Me, Don't Get Murdered a Man
and Amen.
Speaker 2 (04:36):
And then my father said, how were you a latch
k kid? They just live in Chicago.
Speaker 3 (04:40):
Wait, what like? Oh, they just like you're on a
latchk kid. We didn't lock the door.
Speaker 2 (04:47):
That is literally true. So it says one morning I
was eating government cereal and watching Threes, watching Threes Company,
this is this is Everyone's life when I heard a
knock on the door. My mama told me repeatedly that
if someone were to come to the door, to pretend
I was not there and not to answer it all caps,
no matter what I figured whoever it was with Lee.
(05:09):
So I just kept watching the show and ignored it.
Except the knocking didn't stop. It got louder and more insistent,
and my seven year old brain registered that something was
very wrong. As the knocking increased and the doorknob started
to rattle, I remember thinking that I should leave the
TV on and not turn down the volume, otherwise they
would know I was inside. Smart I set my cereal
(05:31):
bowl down and silently tiptoed towards the front door, shaking.
It's at this moment that the knocking escalated to banging,
and a man started yelling open the fucking door. I
know you're in there, I can hear you.
Speaker 3 (05:43):
Oh my god.
Speaker 2 (05:44):
And then it just says, holy fucking shit, I know.
I had a little stool next to the door, so
I stepped up on it and pressed my eye to
the peephole and immediately saw an eyeball staring back in
the I jumped down, noped the fuck right out of
my bedroom in the back, and called my mom at
work seven years old Jesus Christ. When I told her
(06:07):
what was going on, she told me she was on
her way and to hang up and call nine one one.
The whole time, the man is still banging on my door,
shaking it and rattling the handle, screaming expletives at me.
The dispatcher that answered my phone call calmly told me
to lock my bedroom door, to stay on the phone,
and that the police were on the way. In about
five to ten minutes, the police arrived. The dispatchers said
they had the man and it was okay to unlock
(06:29):
the door. When I did, I saw a man sporting
a heinous mullet surrounded by officers at the foot of
the stairs. The cops came in and waited with me
for my mom to get there. They said the guy
claimed he was there to paint the apartment and he
just quote had the wrong unit number. Ah. I immediately
told the police that the man was lying because the
unit numbers were very large and located just above the
(06:50):
people that he had been looking at me through. Fuck
seven Yes. My mom arrived minutes afterwards and filed a
complaint with the complex. I got to go to work
with her the rest of the week, and we forgot
all about it. About three weeks later. On the morning
of June twenty seventh, all over the news was the
report of two missing female roommates, Brunette and in their
(07:11):
mid twenties, that had disappeared from their apartment in the complex.
Across the streets. Christine Rush and Teresa Brown's apartment looked
as though they had come home for the evening, started
getting ready for bed, and were surprised by someone already
hiding in their home.
Speaker 3 (07:26):
Oh no.
Speaker 2 (07:27):
The last anyone heard of either women were two phone
calls made by Brown to their respective employers on the
morning of the twenty sixth, calling in sick for the day.
No one ever spoke to either woman again. God in
the weeks and months that followed, through fingerprint analysis, bank statements,
and general stupidity on his part, Richard Grissom, the maintenance
worker at the apartment complex we lived in, was the
(07:51):
first man in Kansas history to be tried and convicted
of murder without any body.
Speaker 3 (07:56):
Holy shit.
Speaker 2 (07:58):
He has never admitted to his guilt nor to the
families where the women's remains are. The Only thing he
will say to this day is you'll dig them up?
Oh my God, And then it says, what a fucking
piece of human track. Yeah, I will never forget. The
day they first identified him as the main suspect, I
was sitting on the crunchy brown carpet of our apartment
(08:18):
and I saw that ask clown's face pop up on
the TV and then in quotes, it says, that's the man. Mom,
that's the guy that was pounding on the door. My
mom went white, changed the channel, and we never talked
about it again. Years later, I saw the forensic files
on this case, and I had a realization that man
was not trying to get me my mom and her
roommate looked eeriely similar to his victims. Both sets of
(08:41):
women were beautiful, young, outgoing brunettes who lived together. So
that's my story. Richard Grissom is rotting away forever with
no chance of parole, and I am alive and well,
thank you for being the voices in my ear for
years and a happy distraction during this shit storm yours
in murder and anxiety.
Speaker 1 (08:58):
Jillian, Oh, my god, Like, yes, he was going after
these women. But if he had opened the door and
you had been there, like you were just in the way,
that's just you would have done whatever.
Speaker 2 (09:11):
And just that like moment of like quietly putting down
her cereal bowl and tiptoeing ya to the.
Speaker 3 (09:17):
Door, definitely done that.
Speaker 2 (09:19):
Yes, like those weird moments of like, well, I guess
I'm gonna make this call because it's because it's just
me to figure this plane.
Speaker 3 (09:26):
Out because I'm seven.
Speaker 2 (09:27):
Oh hello, Jillian, Oh Jillian, Jillian.
Speaker 1 (09:34):
Okay, this is called birthday party at a Mormon prophet's house.
Speaker 2 (09:38):
Crazy, so long we've never gotten one of these before.
Speaker 1 (09:40):
No, Hi, ladies, fun little ghosty story for you. I
worked as a birthday hostess at the historic Lion House
in Salt Lake.
Speaker 3 (09:48):
City, Utah. All through high school.
Speaker 1 (09:50):
That's right, I dressed as a Mormon pioneer and through
children's birthday parties in an old pioneer house, complete with
tappy pulling, a boring ass tour of the house, and
a rousing game of button Button, Who's got the button?
Speaker 3 (10:03):
The butt? Of course, I've never heard of my life.
Speaker 2 (10:06):
It's such a seventies monassory. It's just basically like someone's
holding a button and you have to guess who's got
it in their hands.
Speaker 1 (10:12):
Oh, my God, and says and hide the thimble. Okay, oh,
let's say the game button, but who's gone and hide
the thimble. The birthday kid is also gifted a scary
porcelain doll. No, I'm not making this up.
Speaker 3 (10:22):
Oh shit, button button, Who's got the button?
Speaker 2 (10:25):
All the games are sewing based because they actually want
those women over at the sewing tae making some clothes.
Speaker 1 (10:31):
A little history about the house before I tell you
about the scariest ten minutes of my life. The Lionhouse
is located in the heart of Salt Lake City and
is the historic home of the former Mormon prophet Brigham
Yng Brigham Young Raham feel free.
Speaker 3 (10:44):
To google him.
Speaker 1 (10:44):
He was a real piece of shit anyway. At one point,
the house was home to about a dozen of his
wives and thirty plus children. Most of the rooms are
now used for wedding receptions, high school reunions, and it's
a huge Mormon tradition for kids to celebrate their eighth
birthday at the Lion House.
Speaker 3 (11:01):
What a racket.
Speaker 2 (11:03):
I mean. I wonder if it's like some sort of
confirmation age.
Speaker 1 (11:07):
Or like maybe in the house you will find a
framed piece of art that depicts flowers embroidered using Brigham Young's.
Speaker 3 (11:14):
Wives actual hair.
Speaker 1 (11:17):
Pretty yeah, Wooden chairs that were carved custom to fit
each wipe's butt, great, what I'd love it. I want
one of those and lots of other treasures that were
original to the home. Anyway, When I was seventeen, I
was working at a wedding reception late one night. What
a fun job for a teenager ry.
Speaker 2 (11:33):
A wedding reception where were dressed like an old style
Mormon pioneer.
Speaker 1 (11:37):
But there's no like you can't sneak the rest of
anyone's glass of champagnecause there's no alcohol.
Speaker 2 (11:41):
You can smoke a cigarette. Aren't they allowed to smoke cigarette?
Speaker 3 (11:43):
I don't know, not the women.
Speaker 2 (11:45):
Probably that's scientology.
Speaker 3 (11:46):
I'm so sorry. Not the women.
Speaker 1 (11:49):
And I was assigned to close mostly that just means
take garbages out, run the dishwasher, et cetera.
Speaker 3 (11:54):
The worst part, however, was.
Speaker 1 (11:55):
Turning off the lights at the end of the night
and hauling ass out of the house. I'm sure you
can imagine the super creepy portraits and mirrors.
Speaker 3 (12:03):
That are all over the place.
Speaker 1 (12:04):
On this particular night, I decided I would turn off
all the lights first, you know, get the scary part over,
and then do the dishes alone in the kitchen of
a pitch black, definitely haunted pioneer house. May mean candle
light or something, right, Maybe it's like you turn the
lights off in the entire house, but the kitchen light
is on, or like in the ballroom or whatever.
Speaker 2 (12:23):
Maybe, but the idea of getting the scary part done first.
The scariness is the darkness, so you're not getting it
done if you go back into it and hang out.
Speaker 3 (12:31):
Yes, yeah, the logic doesn't logic.
Speaker 2 (12:33):
I just would love to discuss the logic of this decision.
Speaker 1 (12:36):
Her name is Sarah Sarah okay made total sense at
the time, I swear to seventeen. Obviously, I was terrified
of every tiny noise I heard. But by the time
I was done, most of the jumpiness had worn off
and I had let my guard down. As I hung
up my pioneer panafore, turned off the kitchen light and
waited for the elevator to take me to the parking garage,
I heard footsteps above me. I froze. I just stood
(12:59):
there alone scary, pitch dark house and listen for a
good ten minutes as the footsteps moved from room to
room above me, occasionally rustling the curtains, softly opening and
closing cupboards, and slowly worked their way down the stairs
towards me. I backed myself up against a wall and
squeezed my eyes shut, with tears streaming down my face.
(13:21):
I was positive the ghost of Brother Brigham was coming
to drag me to Mormon Hell. Then I heard a
man's voice say you good.
Speaker 3 (13:31):
What. I opened my eyes to see a.
Speaker 1 (13:34):
Security guard standing in front of me. Turns out that
there are several security guards who would come in after
we turned the lights off to double check the house
before locking.
Speaker 2 (13:42):
Up security guard. She's crying.
Speaker 1 (13:46):
She's crying and has her eyes like, oh my god,
and it's like a you good, bam.
Speaker 2 (13:51):
Or no, I'm a scene from a horror movie. I'm
I'm what happens right before the girl gets killed.
Speaker 3 (13:55):
It's most security guard. No, I'm not, okay, you're part
of this.
Speaker 1 (14:00):
Why they didn't just turn off the freaking lights themselves
is beyond me. So when I turned off the lights
early he came in to make his rounds, it scared
the pioneer heritage right out of me. Stay sexy and
don't pee in your pioneer Pinafore. When a prophet ghost
stalks you, yeah, I'm Sarah.
Speaker 2 (14:18):
She hers easy for you to say, Sarah, I lost
my motherfucking shit.
Speaker 3 (14:22):
Well, I mean you were your face was terrified just now.
Speaker 2 (14:25):
Well also because I started imagining, you know, like kind
of like firit haunted mansion where yeah, just some white,
gauzy sea through beings coming down the stairs. Definitely what
And then it's just some blonde dude in a big
security jacket like you good, Okay, are you good? Sobbing?
Oh my god, Okay, that was a good one, all right.
(14:45):
The subject line of this email is the baboons will
not be deterred. HI period one summer, I joined my
best friend in her family for a day trip to
six Flags Great Adventure in New Jersey. New Jersey is
in and of itself an amusement park. But I don't
need to tell you, of course, no say no more.
This six Flags has a Safari component, which in retrospect
(15:08):
is a bad idea on pretty much every level. They
may have increased safety precautions and things since my visit,
but this was the nineties, during which the lingering effects
of the fuck around and find out eighties were still
deeply felt.
Speaker 3 (15:21):
God, God, I.
Speaker 2 (15:22):
Love a well written email.
Speaker 3 (15:23):
Good.
Speaker 2 (15:24):
My mom's friend Diane was driving us through the Safari
in her hatchback. We saw giraffes and rhinos and maybe
some zebras. It was really delightful. Then the sky seemed
to darken and a hush fell over the expanse.
Speaker 3 (15:38):
The expanse of the hatchback.
Speaker 2 (15:40):
I looked up and saw a single baboon crusting the
hill next to our car, a sentinel in a matter
of seconds, a veritable troop of baboons. And then in
parentheses that says the official word for a group of
baboons by the way crested the hill. I laughed nervously,
but reasoned that they wouldn't and couldn't do much damage
to us in our sturdy shad. What follows are a
(16:01):
series of scenes that will stay with me forever. First,
a bright red baboon asked sliding across the wind show ooh,
next to baboon tearing off the car's license plate and
scurrying over the hill, never to.
Speaker 3 (16:16):
Retire guys like I got mine.
Speaker 2 (16:18):
It is for the clubhouse. Then a determined pair of
baboons excising the passenger side mirror from its socket. When
the initial assault seemed calm, Diana asked me, a child,
to go and retrieve the mirror the baboons had stole.
Speaker 1 (16:32):
Little okay, little child, get out, go fight that baboon.
Speaker 2 (16:36):
I can't just buy another one of those mirrors. We
could see it lying broken in a dust a few
feet from the bumper. Maybe she thought that my small
size would make me nimble enough to dodge the baboons,
or that I myself had a baboon vibe that the
other baboons might appreciate. Surprisingly, I didn't question her request.
I gingerly opened my car door, peering to my right
(16:59):
and left. I seized a baboon free moment and dashed
back to the mirror. Suddenly one of the determined ones
skit it up into.
Speaker 1 (17:06):
Oh my god, you could have asked one of the
employees at the Safari to get the mirror, and not
a literal child.
Speaker 2 (17:14):
The value of children was less than a side mirror
of a Chevy hatchback. Yes in this era. God, it's
this is such a perfectly written email. I just love it.
Speaker 3 (17:26):
Okay.
Speaker 2 (17:27):
Suddenly one of the more determined ones skidded into view,
hovering protectively over the mirror. We sized each other up,
and I took an experimental step forward. The baboon called
my bluff and shuffled closer, at which point I thought, wait,
what the fuck and sped back into the car. Needless
to say, Diane had to drive home without the benefit
of her blind spot mirror, although all of the children
(17:48):
in her charge survived. And then it just says, yes,
this really happened. Stay sexy and don't play chicken with baboons.
Speaker 3 (17:55):
Emily, face to face with a baboon.
Speaker 2 (18:00):
Honey, jump out, get into the troop.
Speaker 3 (18:03):
There you're the littlest one, you're the same size.
Speaker 2 (18:06):
Go babboon it up. I think you're a grabbed that
mirror away from a bab boon.
Speaker 3 (18:14):
Okay, here we are. I'm not going to tell you
the title. It's about snails though.
Speaker 1 (18:17):
Hey y'all, I didn't send this story in earlier because
I figured you would be inundated with snail mail.
Speaker 3 (18:23):
Ha ha.
Speaker 1 (18:24):
After episode four seventy, they wrote, haha ha, Yeah, it
turns out I was wrong, and perhaps my condition is
more unique than I thought, So here goes. It was
an icy cold night. This will be important later on
in March twenty fifteen, when my husband and I went
out to dinner with another couple at a shish local
restaurant in Norfolk, Virginia. This night, I was feeling adventurous
(18:45):
and ordered the es Cargo swimming in butter and garlic.
ITA's not actually swimming. That would be snail tartar and
too hot cuisine even for me, But I digress. We
all had the chance to enjoy the delicate little buggers,
very tasty, and leave it to me to of every
last bit of snail juice and garlic butter with the hot,
crusty table bread.
Speaker 3 (19:05):
I like the bread part of you.
Speaker 2 (19:06):
Oh my god.
Speaker 1 (19:07):
Fast forward about thirty minutes later, when we skidattle home
to pay the babysitter and put our kids to bed.
My oldest daughter and I were both singing in a
local production of Mulan Junior, and we needed to get
a good night's rest before starting tech week.
Speaker 3 (19:20):
That's cool, yeah, yeah.
Speaker 1 (19:23):
Well, my husband hearded the kids into the bathroom upstairs
to brush their teeth and go to sleep. I got
ready for bed in the downstairs bathroom. I noticed fairly
quickly that my throat was itching and my lungs were
getting tight.
Speaker 3 (19:33):
I immediately assumed that I had.
Speaker 1 (19:35):
Caught a bug somehow, and was likely catching a cold,
right before our busiest week, of course, But in no
time flat, my throat had begun to close up on me,
and I could barely croak out for help. I banged
on the wall repeatedly to get my husband's attention. He
came flying down the stairs, shushing me, upset that I
might excite the kids as they were trying to go
to sleep. He was horrified to find me in the bathroom,
(19:57):
bug eyed, clutching my throat and gasping this beautiful amazing,
steady as a rock. Husband of mine grabbed me and
a bottle of Vena dryl and rushed us outside to
the front porch in the freezing cold, where he shoved
three benadryl down my throat and ordered me to sit
on a rocking chair. He calmly explained that I had
an anaphylactic reaction to something I ate, and that the
(20:18):
cold air and medicine would soon allow me to breathe again.
Sure Enough, within the hour, I was relatively back to normal, albeit.
Speaker 3 (20:24):
Blue from the cold.
Speaker 1 (20:26):
The next day I went to the doctor, who ordered
a series of tests to determine what the cause of
my reaction might have been. I've suffered from a lot
of allergies in my time, most of them environmental, but
nothing like this, and nothing ever food related. Ultimately, my
doctor surmised that I suffer from a snail allergy, and
that this attack was a warning the next time I
(20:46):
eat a snail it might could kill me. She prescribed
me an EpiPen, which all of my family and friends
have now learned to use.
Speaker 3 (20:54):
Just in case. How do you accidentally eat a snail?
Speaker 2 (20:56):
Though, when someone's putting snails in your sandwich?
Speaker 3 (20:59):
Shit?
Speaker 1 (21:00):
Weird does even fight over who gets to stab me
if someone accidentally.
Speaker 3 (21:03):
Slips snails into my meal?
Speaker 1 (21:05):
And you can only imagine the looks that I get
at restaurants when the white staff asks if anyone at
the table has any food allergies. The kitchen needs to
be aware of good news. She can't use the sierrum either.
Speaker 2 (21:16):
No, my god, Din, her skin starts choking out here, clogging.
Speaker 1 (21:21):
The good news is I was able to perform in
the show with no lasting vocal trauma, and now my
children have a legit reason never to try eating snails.
Speaker 3 (21:29):
It might be hereditary after all. Love y'all, lots keep.
Speaker 1 (21:32):
Doing what you're doing, one day at a time. This
world needs her voices. Stay sexy and leave the snails
to the French. Kristen B she her.
Speaker 2 (21:39):
I'm so glad you're still here with us, Thank God. Also,
what's your husband do for a living that he was
able to see his wife choking and absolutely solve that
problem immediately? Was he lying about being outside helping and
being cold having it be cold helping?
Speaker 3 (21:56):
Does that work?
Speaker 2 (21:57):
I mean, I guess it did should But who is
that guy? B? Sorry but Kristen, but your husband upstaged
you in this email. Okay, so I think you're gonna
like this one. The subject line is Safe Harbor's success story. Okay,
it starts entire MFM crew. After hours of trying to
come up with a jazzy introduction with no luck, I
(22:17):
can safely say I will no longer be critiquing other
fans who write in. I will say how thankful I
am for the countless hours of laughter and companionship Karen
and Georgia have provided. I love reading about us in
the third person. I can remember the moment I heard
your podcast for the first time. Picture it twenty nineteen,
my garage in Nebraska, gearing up to mow the lawn
(22:39):
and needing a good listen. God, I love that so much.
What are you even doing right now? Mfm's logo stood
out in the list of graphics kudos to the design team.
The design team named Georgia Hartstark. So I clicked play
and off I started. It's ironic that while mowing just
last week, I listened to episode four seventy six, Sprinkles
(22:59):
and Good Eyes and finally had my reason to write in.
Karen told the story of Toby Young, the founder of
Safe Harbor Prison Dogs. Oh yeah, we adopted our dog
Bruski from Safe Harbor back in twenty fourteen.
Speaker 3 (23:12):
Holy shit.
Speaker 2 (23:13):
Bruski's mom came into the program pregnant, so when she
had her litter, we took home our beloved lab greyhound mix.
Bruski came to us vaccinated, microchipped, and trained by prisoners
to sit and stay. His adoption packet even included pictures
and a letter from one of the trainers. Those trainers
love those dogs totally, totally, probably more than anybody. Yeah,
(23:36):
we thought it was such a great way to allow
meaningful rehabilitation while also finding homes for dogs. During the pandemic,
I was fortunate to work from home and took daily
walks with Bruski. It was my way to feel more
normal during crazy times. Less because of the virus itself,
but more because of society's batshit response to COVID and
masking I mean. Unfortunately, Bruski passed away in twenty twenty
(23:58):
four due to an inoperable tumor. He was the perfect
dog and will always have a special place in our
family's hearts. I miss our walks together and his presence
in our home, but I still find his dog hair
in places, and it makes me smile, stay sexy and
always adopt, even if the founder orchestrated a prison escape. Jared,
and look at beautiful Bruskie.
Speaker 3 (24:20):
That is a gorgeous dog. Look at that poppy baby.
Speaker 2 (24:25):
Boy Lab greyhound mix. That's a that's a great.
Speaker 3 (24:29):
That's a loyal dog. Oh my god, you said it
was about slugs. You lied?
Speaker 2 (24:32):
I did. That was my comparable comedy choice that I made.
Speaker 3 (24:36):
Got it? Guys, write us your stories.
Speaker 2 (24:38):
Please tell us where you got your dog?
Speaker 3 (24:41):
Yeah? What a perfect what's it called bucket?
Speaker 1 (24:44):
No like that they got the dog from a story
that you did about a woman who did prison escape
with the dog.
Speaker 3 (24:49):
It's perfect. Yes, we need those.
Speaker 2 (24:51):
This is if you can connect your pet to a
story we tell on the main episode totally let us know.
Speaker 1 (24:58):
Gmail, Thank you guys for listening. And today sex and
don't get murdered. Cooky, Elvis, do you want a cookie?
Speaker 2 (25:12):
This has been an exactly right production.
Speaker 1 (25:14):
Our senior producers are Aleahundra Keck and Molly Smith.
Speaker 2 (25:17):
Our editor is Aristotle las Veda.
Speaker 3 (25:19):
This episode was mixed by Leona Scuolacci.
Speaker 2 (25:21):
Email your hometowns to my favorite Murder at gmail dot com.
Speaker 1 (25:24):
And follow the show on Instagram at My Favorite Murder.
Speaker 2 (25:27):
Listen to My Favorite Murder on the iHeartRadio app, Apple
Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker 1 (25:31):
And now you can watch us on exactly rights YouTube page.
And while you're there, please like and subscribe.
Speaker 3 (25:36):
Y bye bye
Last.
Speaker 2 (00:16):
Hello, and welcome to my favorite murder. This is the
minisode Redoo your stories. You've sent us emails, We're going
to read them out loud.
Speaker 3 (00:25):
We've got them all.
Speaker 2 (00:26):
We get every single email. Nineteen billion sold in counting,
just steal McDonald's email rates. Can I go first?
Speaker 3 (00:36):
Sure? Let me see.
Speaker 1 (00:38):
That always means on going last, And so I want
to have a strong last. Oh, okay, you know what
I mean?
Speaker 2 (00:42):
Who has the best last?
Speaker 1 (00:44):
My last one's about snail, so let's do it. Okay,
what you have a good last?
Speaker 2 (00:48):
I saw that mine's about slugs, So let's just see.
Let's just see.
Speaker 1 (00:52):
Okay, this is called the Baby, a gas station, and
a murder. How I ended up in the middle of
a hometown homicide.
Speaker 2 (00:58):
Oh shit?
Speaker 1 (00:59):
Hey, Karen at George a longtime fan of the show,
Thank you both for making true crime feel like hilarious
therapy session with your equally morbid best friends. I finally
decided to send in my story, and let's just say
it's got babysitting, bitrail and bloodshed. When I was in
my twenties, I was working at a gas station and
a busy part of the city. I had a handful
of regulars that I saw almost every day, and one
(01:19):
of them was a sweet young couple who had just
had a baby. They were friendly, a little frazzled new
parents after all, but always kind. One night, the young
new mom came in alone with the baby and asked
if I could watch him for a few minutes while
she ran home to grab diapers.
Speaker 3 (01:34):
She forgot, it's a gas station clerk.
Speaker 2 (01:36):
Uh sorry, so you're going to stop off at the
gas station, not bring your baby all the way home with.
Speaker 3 (01:42):
You, right, But also like gas stations usually have diapers
in the gas station too, right. I didn't even think
about that to just.
Speaker 2 (01:47):
Say, there's all kinds of things at the gas station,
but not childcare.
Speaker 3 (01:51):
Lots of red flags here.
Speaker 1 (01:53):
She said she'd live just down the street and would
be faster solo, so I said sure, because nothing says
qualified babysitter like minimum wage in a name tag. She
came back a little while later, asked to use the phone,
made a phone call, and not long after someone picked
her and the baby up. Seemed like a weird blip
in my shift, but no big deal until the next
day when I was brought in for questioning in a
(02:14):
murder investigation. Turns out when she went back home after
leaving her baby girl with me at the gas station,
they had gotten into an argument that escalated quickly when
she found out he had taken a gay lover. She
ended up stabbing him to death while I was unknowingly
watching her baby like some clueless accomplice with a slurping
machine in the background.
Speaker 3 (02:35):
Oh ask my questions after, I mean, I might not
have the answers.
Speaker 2 (02:38):
Was it premeditated? Was that the plan?
Speaker 3 (02:42):
Like? This is my alibis?
Speaker 2 (02:44):
Why would you leave your baby with the gas station clerk?
No offense.
Speaker 1 (02:48):
She turned herself in the morning after the murder, which
is why the detectives were questioning me about her behavior, which,
for the record, was eerily calm. She later pleaded guilty
to third degree murder and was sentenced to six teen years.
Needless to say, I was completely shocked. It was one
of the wildest moments of my life. And now I
get to say I was unknowingly part of a murder timeline.
(03:09):
Stay texting and remember red flags don't always wave. Sometimes
they hand you a baby.
Speaker 3 (03:15):
Leslie.
Speaker 2 (03:15):
She her Leslie, nice one button lar. Yeah, and sorry
you had to take the friendly fire from me. But
it scares me so much that idea where it's like
people and it's been said a thousand times, so it's like,
you don't have to have a license to have a child,
right what parent in the world is like, you know,
I'm just go ahead and hold this baby first.
Speaker 1 (03:35):
I've come in here a lot of days before and
for you know, the minutes at a time.
Speaker 2 (03:39):
It's the lady with the baby at the gas station.
Speaker 3 (03:41):
Yeah, this has got to be cool, all right.
Speaker 2 (03:44):
Well kind of related. The subject line of this email
is a personal Latchkey kid. I survived Hi Friends in
the early summer of nineteen eighty nine. I was seven
years old and lived in Lenexa, Kansas, a suburb of
Kansas City, notorious for absolutely nothing. I lived with my
mom and her best friend, both of whom were pretty
young and outgoing, and in parentheses it says foreshadowing, etc.
(04:08):
My parents were very recently divorced, and my older sister
was in our first or second round of rehab all
around fun times for all, so I was left home
alone every day in our shitty apartment complex to take
care of myself. Moment of silence for the Latchkey kids
and the trauma they endured unknowingly by themselves, never really
(04:29):
processed until they wrote their book with their podcast partner.
Speaker 1 (04:32):
Called Stay Sex and Me, Don't Get Murdered a Man
and Amen.
Speaker 2 (04:36):
And then my father said, how were you a latch
k kid? They just live in Chicago.
Speaker 3 (04:40):
Wait, what like? Oh, they just like you're on a
latchk kid. We didn't lock the door.
Speaker 2 (04:47):
That is literally true. So it says one morning I
was eating government cereal and watching Threes, watching Threes Company,
this is this is Everyone's life when I heard a
knock on the door. My mama told me repeatedly that
if someone were to come to the door, to pretend
I was not there and not to answer it all caps,
no matter what I figured whoever it was with Lee.
(05:09):
So I just kept watching the show and ignored it.
Except the knocking didn't stop. It got louder and more insistent,
and my seven year old brain registered that something was
very wrong. As the knocking increased and the doorknob started
to rattle, I remember thinking that I should leave the
TV on and not turn down the volume, otherwise they
would know I was inside. Smart I set my cereal
(05:31):
bowl down and silently tiptoed towards the front door, shaking.
It's at this moment that the knocking escalated to banging,
and a man started yelling open the fucking door. I
know you're in there, I can hear you.
Speaker 3 (05:43):
Oh my god.
Speaker 2 (05:44):
And then it just says, holy fucking shit, I know.
I had a little stool next to the door, so
I stepped up on it and pressed my eye to
the peephole and immediately saw an eyeball staring back in
the I jumped down, noped the fuck right out of
my bedroom in the back, and called my mom at
work seven years old Jesus Christ. When I told her
(06:07):
what was going on, she told me she was on
her way and to hang up and call nine one one.
The whole time, the man is still banging on my door,
shaking it and rattling the handle, screaming expletives at me.
The dispatcher that answered my phone call calmly told me
to lock my bedroom door, to stay on the phone,
and that the police were on the way. In about
five to ten minutes, the police arrived. The dispatchers said
they had the man and it was okay to unlock
(06:29):
the door. When I did, I saw a man sporting
a heinous mullet surrounded by officers at the foot of
the stairs. The cops came in and waited with me
for my mom to get there. They said the guy
claimed he was there to paint the apartment and he
just quote had the wrong unit number. Ah. I immediately
told the police that the man was lying because the
unit numbers were very large and located just above the
(06:50):
people that he had been looking at me through. Fuck
seven Yes. My mom arrived minutes afterwards and filed a
complaint with the complex. I got to go to work
with her the rest of the week, and we forgot
all about it. About three weeks later. On the morning
of June twenty seventh, all over the news was the
report of two missing female roommates, Brunette and in their
(07:11):
mid twenties, that had disappeared from their apartment in the complex.
Across the streets. Christine Rush and Teresa Brown's apartment looked
as though they had come home for the evening, started
getting ready for bed, and were surprised by someone already
hiding in their home.
Speaker 3 (07:26):
Oh no.
Speaker 2 (07:27):
The last anyone heard of either women were two phone
calls made by Brown to their respective employers on the
morning of the twenty sixth, calling in sick for the day.
No one ever spoke to either woman again. God in
the weeks and months that followed, through fingerprint analysis, bank statements,
and general stupidity on his part, Richard Grissom, the maintenance
worker at the apartment complex we lived in, was the
(07:51):
first man in Kansas history to be tried and convicted
of murder without any body.
Speaker 3 (07:56):
Holy shit.
Speaker 2 (07:58):
He has never admitted to his guilt nor to the
families where the women's remains are. The Only thing he
will say to this day is you'll dig them up?
Oh my God, And then it says, what a fucking
piece of human track. Yeah, I will never forget. The
day they first identified him as the main suspect, I
was sitting on the crunchy brown carpet of our apartment
(08:18):
and I saw that ask clown's face pop up on
the TV and then in quotes, it says, that's the man. Mom,
that's the guy that was pounding on the door. My
mom went white, changed the channel, and we never talked
about it again. Years later, I saw the forensic files
on this case, and I had a realization that man
was not trying to get me my mom and her
roommate looked eeriely similar to his victims. Both sets of
(08:41):
women were beautiful, young, outgoing brunettes who lived together. So
that's my story. Richard Grissom is rotting away forever with
no chance of parole, and I am alive and well,
thank you for being the voices in my ear for
years and a happy distraction during this shit storm yours
in murder and anxiety.
Speaker 1 (08:58):
Jillian, Oh, my god, Like, yes, he was going after
these women. But if he had opened the door and
you had been there, like you were just in the way,
that's just you would have done whatever.
Speaker 2 (09:11):
And just that like moment of like quietly putting down
her cereal bowl and tiptoeing ya to the.
Speaker 3 (09:17):
Door, definitely done that.
Speaker 2 (09:19):
Yes, like those weird moments of like, well, I guess
I'm gonna make this call because it's because it's just
me to figure this plane.
Speaker 3 (09:26):
Out because I'm seven.
Speaker 2 (09:27):
Oh hello, Jillian, Oh Jillian, Jillian.
Speaker 1 (09:34):
Okay, this is called birthday party at a Mormon prophet's house.
Speaker 2 (09:38):
Crazy, so long we've never gotten one of these before.
Speaker 1 (09:40):
No, Hi, ladies, fun little ghosty story for you. I
worked as a birthday hostess at the historic Lion House
in Salt Lake.
Speaker 3 (09:48):
City, Utah. All through high school.
Speaker 1 (09:50):
That's right, I dressed as a Mormon pioneer and through
children's birthday parties in an old pioneer house, complete with
tappy pulling, a boring ass tour of the house, and
a rousing game of button Button, Who's got the button?
Speaker 3 (10:03):
The butt? Of course, I've never heard of my life.
Speaker 2 (10:06):
It's such a seventies monassory. It's just basically like someone's
holding a button and you have to guess who's got
it in their hands.
Speaker 1 (10:12):
Oh, my God, and says and hide the thimble. Okay, oh,
let's say the game button, but who's gone and hide
the thimble. The birthday kid is also gifted a scary
porcelain doll. No, I'm not making this up.
Speaker 3 (10:22):
Oh shit, button button, Who's got the button?
Speaker 2 (10:25):
All the games are sewing based because they actually want
those women over at the sewing tae making some clothes.
Speaker 1 (10:31):
A little history about the house before I tell you
about the scariest ten minutes of my life. The Lionhouse
is located in the heart of Salt Lake City and
is the historic home of the former Mormon prophet Brigham
Yng Brigham Young Raham feel free.
Speaker 3 (10:44):
To google him.
Speaker 1 (10:44):
He was a real piece of shit anyway. At one point,
the house was home to about a dozen of his
wives and thirty plus children. Most of the rooms are
now used for wedding receptions, high school reunions, and it's
a huge Mormon tradition for kids to celebrate their eighth
birthday at the Lion House.
Speaker 3 (11:01):
What a racket.
Speaker 2 (11:03):
I mean. I wonder if it's like some sort of
confirmation age.
Speaker 1 (11:07):
Or like maybe in the house you will find a
framed piece of art that depicts flowers embroidered using Brigham Young's.
Speaker 3 (11:14):
Wives actual hair.
Speaker 1 (11:17):
Pretty yeah, Wooden chairs that were carved custom to fit
each wipe's butt, great, what I'd love it. I want
one of those and lots of other treasures that were
original to the home. Anyway, When I was seventeen, I
was working at a wedding reception late one night. What
a fun job for a teenager ry.
Speaker 2 (11:33):
A wedding reception where were dressed like an old style
Mormon pioneer.
Speaker 1 (11:37):
But there's no like you can't sneak the rest of
anyone's glass of champagnecause there's no alcohol.
Speaker 2 (11:41):
You can smoke a cigarette. Aren't they allowed to smoke cigarette?
Speaker 3 (11:43):
I don't know, not the women.
Speaker 2 (11:45):
Probably that's scientology.
Speaker 3 (11:46):
I'm so sorry. Not the women.
Speaker 1 (11:49):
And I was assigned to close mostly that just means
take garbages out, run the dishwasher, et cetera.
Speaker 3 (11:54):
The worst part, however, was.
Speaker 1 (11:55):
Turning off the lights at the end of the night
and hauling ass out of the house. I'm sure you
can imagine the super creepy portraits and mirrors.
Speaker 3 (12:03):
That are all over the place.
Speaker 1 (12:04):
On this particular night, I decided I would turn off
all the lights first, you know, get the scary part over,
and then do the dishes alone in the kitchen of
a pitch black, definitely haunted pioneer house. May mean candle
light or something, right, Maybe it's like you turn the
lights off in the entire house, but the kitchen light
is on, or like in the ballroom or whatever.
Speaker 2 (12:23):
Maybe, but the idea of getting the scary part done first.
The scariness is the darkness, so you're not getting it
done if you go back into it and hang out.
Speaker 3 (12:31):
Yes, yeah, the logic doesn't logic.
Speaker 2 (12:33):
I just would love to discuss the logic of this decision.
Speaker 1 (12:36):
Her name is Sarah Sarah okay made total sense at
the time, I swear to seventeen. Obviously, I was terrified
of every tiny noise I heard. But by the time
I was done, most of the jumpiness had worn off
and I had let my guard down. As I hung
up my pioneer panafore, turned off the kitchen light and
waited for the elevator to take me to the parking garage,
I heard footsteps above me. I froze. I just stood
(12:59):
there alone scary, pitch dark house and listen for a
good ten minutes as the footsteps moved from room to
room above me, occasionally rustling the curtains, softly opening and
closing cupboards, and slowly worked their way down the stairs
towards me. I backed myself up against a wall and
squeezed my eyes shut, with tears streaming down my face.
(13:21):
I was positive the ghost of Brother Brigham was coming
to drag me to Mormon Hell. Then I heard a
man's voice say you good.
Speaker 3 (13:31):
What. I opened my eyes to see a.
Speaker 1 (13:34):
Security guard standing in front of me. Turns out that
there are several security guards who would come in after
we turned the lights off to double check the house
before locking.
Speaker 2 (13:42):
Up security guard. She's crying.
Speaker 1 (13:46):
She's crying and has her eyes like, oh my god,
and it's like a you good, bam.
Speaker 2 (13:51):
Or no, I'm a scene from a horror movie. I'm
I'm what happens right before the girl gets killed.
Speaker 3 (13:55):
It's most security guard. No, I'm not, okay, you're part
of this.
Speaker 1 (14:00):
Why they didn't just turn off the freaking lights themselves
is beyond me. So when I turned off the lights
early he came in to make his rounds, it scared
the pioneer heritage right out of me. Stay sexy and
don't pee in your pioneer Pinafore. When a prophet ghost
stalks you, yeah, I'm Sarah.
Speaker 2 (14:18):
She hers easy for you to say, Sarah, I lost
my motherfucking shit.
Speaker 3 (14:22):
Well, I mean you were your face was terrified just now.
Speaker 2 (14:25):
Well also because I started imagining, you know, like kind
of like firit haunted mansion where yeah, just some white,
gauzy sea through beings coming down the stairs. Definitely what
And then it's just some blonde dude in a big
security jacket like you good, Okay, are you good? Sobbing?
Oh my god, Okay, that was a good one, all right.
(14:45):
The subject line of this email is the baboons will
not be deterred. HI period one summer, I joined my
best friend in her family for a day trip to
six Flags Great Adventure in New Jersey. New Jersey is
in and of itself an amusement park. But I don't
need to tell you, of course, no say no more.
This six Flags has a Safari component, which in retrospect
(15:08):
is a bad idea on pretty much every level. They
may have increased safety precautions and things since my visit,
but this was the nineties, during which the lingering effects
of the fuck around and find out eighties were still
deeply felt.
Speaker 3 (15:21):
God, God, I.
Speaker 2 (15:22):
Love a well written email.
Speaker 3 (15:23):
Good.
Speaker 2 (15:24):
My mom's friend Diane was driving us through the Safari
in her hatchback. We saw giraffes and rhinos and maybe
some zebras. It was really delightful. Then the sky seemed
to darken and a hush fell over the expanse.
Speaker 3 (15:38):
The expanse of the hatchback.
Speaker 2 (15:40):
I looked up and saw a single baboon crusting the
hill next to our car, a sentinel in a matter
of seconds, a veritable troop of baboons. And then in
parentheses that says the official word for a group of
baboons by the way crested the hill. I laughed nervously,
but reasoned that they wouldn't and couldn't do much damage
to us in our sturdy shad. What follows are a
(16:01):
series of scenes that will stay with me forever. First,
a bright red baboon asked sliding across the wind show ooh,
next to baboon tearing off the car's license plate and
scurrying over the hill, never to.
Speaker 3 (16:16):
Retire guys like I got mine.
Speaker 2 (16:18):
It is for the clubhouse. Then a determined pair of
baboons excising the passenger side mirror from its socket. When
the initial assault seemed calm, Diana asked me, a child,
to go and retrieve the mirror the baboons had stole.
Speaker 1 (16:32):
Little okay, little child, get out, go fight that baboon.
Speaker 2 (16:36):
I can't just buy another one of those mirrors. We
could see it lying broken in a dust a few
feet from the bumper. Maybe she thought that my small
size would make me nimble enough to dodge the baboons,
or that I myself had a baboon vibe that the
other baboons might appreciate. Surprisingly, I didn't question her request.
I gingerly opened my car door, peering to my right
(16:59):
and left. I seized a baboon free moment and dashed
back to the mirror. Suddenly one of the determined ones
skit it up into.
Speaker 1 (17:06):
Oh my god, you could have asked one of the
employees at the Safari to get the mirror, and not
a literal child.
Speaker 2 (17:14):
The value of children was less than a side mirror
of a Chevy hatchback. Yes in this era. God, it's
this is such a perfectly written email. I just love it.
Speaker 3 (17:26):
Okay.
Speaker 2 (17:27):
Suddenly one of the more determined ones skidded into view,
hovering protectively over the mirror. We sized each other up,
and I took an experimental step forward. The baboon called
my bluff and shuffled closer, at which point I thought, wait,
what the fuck and sped back into the car. Needless
to say, Diane had to drive home without the benefit
of her blind spot mirror, although all of the children
(17:48):
in her charge survived. And then it just says, yes,
this really happened. Stay sexy and don't play chicken with baboons.
Speaker 3 (17:55):
Emily, face to face with a baboon.
Speaker 2 (18:00):
Honey, jump out, get into the troop.
Speaker 3 (18:03):
There you're the littlest one, you're the same size.
Speaker 2 (18:06):
Go babboon it up. I think you're a grabbed that
mirror away from a bab boon.
Speaker 3 (18:14):
Okay, here we are. I'm not going to tell you
the title. It's about snails though.
Speaker 1 (18:17):
Hey y'all, I didn't send this story in earlier because
I figured you would be inundated with snail mail.
Speaker 3 (18:23):
Ha ha.
Speaker 1 (18:24):
After episode four seventy, they wrote, haha ha, Yeah, it
turns out I was wrong, and perhaps my condition is
more unique than I thought, So here goes. It was
an icy cold night. This will be important later on
in March twenty fifteen, when my husband and I went
out to dinner with another couple at a shish local
restaurant in Norfolk, Virginia. This night, I was feeling adventurous
(18:45):
and ordered the es Cargo swimming in butter and garlic.
ITA's not actually swimming. That would be snail tartar and
too hot cuisine even for me, But I digress. We
all had the chance to enjoy the delicate little buggers,
very tasty, and leave it to me to of every
last bit of snail juice and garlic butter with the hot,
crusty table bread.
Speaker 3 (19:05):
I like the bread part of you.
Speaker 2 (19:06):
Oh my god.
Speaker 1 (19:07):
Fast forward about thirty minutes later, when we skidattle home
to pay the babysitter and put our kids to bed.
My oldest daughter and I were both singing in a
local production of Mulan Junior, and we needed to get
a good night's rest before starting tech week.
Speaker 3 (19:20):
That's cool, yeah, yeah.
Speaker 1 (19:23):
Well, my husband hearded the kids into the bathroom upstairs
to brush their teeth and go to sleep. I got
ready for bed in the downstairs bathroom. I noticed fairly
quickly that my throat was itching and my lungs were
getting tight.
Speaker 3 (19:33):
I immediately assumed that I had.
Speaker 1 (19:35):
Caught a bug somehow, and was likely catching a cold,
right before our busiest week, of course, But in no
time flat, my throat had begun to close up on me,
and I could barely croak out for help. I banged
on the wall repeatedly to get my husband's attention. He
came flying down the stairs, shushing me, upset that I
might excite the kids as they were trying to go
to sleep. He was horrified to find me in the bathroom,
(19:57):
bug eyed, clutching my throat and gasping this beautiful amazing,
steady as a rock. Husband of mine grabbed me and
a bottle of Vena dryl and rushed us outside to
the front porch in the freezing cold, where he shoved
three benadryl down my throat and ordered me to sit
on a rocking chair. He calmly explained that I had
an anaphylactic reaction to something I ate, and that the
(20:18):
cold air and medicine would soon allow me to breathe again.
Sure Enough, within the hour, I was relatively back to normal, albeit.
Speaker 3 (20:24):
Blue from the cold.
Speaker 1 (20:26):
The next day I went to the doctor, who ordered
a series of tests to determine what the cause of
my reaction might have been. I've suffered from a lot
of allergies in my time, most of them environmental, but
nothing like this, and nothing ever food related. Ultimately, my
doctor surmised that I suffer from a snail allergy, and
that this attack was a warning the next time I
(20:46):
eat a snail it might could kill me. She prescribed
me an EpiPen, which all of my family and friends
have now learned to use.
Speaker 3 (20:54):
Just in case. How do you accidentally eat a snail?
Speaker 2 (20:56):
Though, when someone's putting snails in your sandwich?
Speaker 3 (20:59):
Shit?
Speaker 1 (21:00):
Weird does even fight over who gets to stab me
if someone accidentally.
Speaker 3 (21:03):
Slips snails into my meal?
Speaker 1 (21:05):
And you can only imagine the looks that I get
at restaurants when the white staff asks if anyone at
the table has any food allergies. The kitchen needs to
be aware of good news. She can't use the sierrum either.
Speaker 2 (21:16):
No, my god, Din, her skin starts choking out here, clogging.
Speaker 1 (21:21):
The good news is I was able to perform in
the show with no lasting vocal trauma, and now my
children have a legit reason never to try eating snails.
Speaker 3 (21:29):
It might be hereditary after all. Love y'all, lots keep.
Speaker 1 (21:32):
Doing what you're doing, one day at a time. This
world needs her voices. Stay sexy and leave the snails
to the French. Kristen B she her.
Speaker 2 (21:39):
I'm so glad you're still here with us, Thank God. Also,
what's your husband do for a living that he was
able to see his wife choking and absolutely solve that
problem immediately? Was he lying about being outside helping and
being cold having it be cold helping?
Speaker 3 (21:56):
Does that work?
Speaker 2 (21:57):
I mean, I guess it did should But who is
that guy? B? Sorry but Kristen, but your husband upstaged
you in this email. Okay, so I think you're gonna
like this one. The subject line is Safe Harbor's success story. Okay,
it starts entire MFM crew. After hours of trying to
come up with a jazzy introduction with no luck, I
(22:17):
can safely say I will no longer be critiquing other
fans who write in. I will say how thankful I
am for the countless hours of laughter and companionship Karen
and Georgia have provided. I love reading about us in
the third person. I can remember the moment I heard
your podcast for the first time. Picture it twenty nineteen,
my garage in Nebraska, gearing up to mow the lawn
(22:39):
and needing a good listen. God, I love that so much.
What are you even doing right now? Mfm's logo stood
out in the list of graphics kudos to the design team.
The design team named Georgia Hartstark. So I clicked play
and off I started. It's ironic that while mowing just
last week, I listened to episode four seventy six, Sprinkles
(22:59):
and Good Eyes and finally had my reason to write in.
Karen told the story of Toby Young, the founder of
Safe Harbor Prison Dogs. Oh yeah, we adopted our dog
Bruski from Safe Harbor back in twenty fourteen.
Speaker 3 (23:12):
Holy shit.
Speaker 2 (23:13):
Bruski's mom came into the program pregnant, so when she
had her litter, we took home our beloved lab greyhound mix.
Bruski came to us vaccinated, microchipped, and trained by prisoners
to sit and stay. His adoption packet even included pictures
and a letter from one of the trainers. Those trainers
love those dogs totally, totally, probably more than anybody. Yeah,
(23:36):
we thought it was such a great way to allow
meaningful rehabilitation while also finding homes for dogs. During the pandemic,
I was fortunate to work from home and took daily
walks with Bruski. It was my way to feel more
normal during crazy times. Less because of the virus itself,
but more because of society's batshit response to COVID and
masking I mean. Unfortunately, Bruski passed away in twenty twenty
(23:58):
four due to an inoperable tumor. He was the perfect
dog and will always have a special place in our
family's hearts. I miss our walks together and his presence
in our home, but I still find his dog hair
in places, and it makes me smile, stay sexy and
always adopt, even if the founder orchestrated a prison escape. Jared,
and look at beautiful Bruskie.
Speaker 3 (24:20):
That is a gorgeous dog. Look at that poppy baby.
Speaker 2 (24:25):
Boy Lab greyhound mix. That's a that's a great.
Speaker 3 (24:29):
That's a loyal dog. Oh my god, you said it
was about slugs. You lied?
Speaker 2 (24:32):
I did. That was my comparable comedy choice that I made.
Speaker 3 (24:36):
Got it? Guys, write us your stories.
Speaker 2 (24:38):
Please tell us where you got your dog?
Speaker 3 (24:41):
Yeah? What a perfect what's it called bucket?
Speaker 1 (24:44):
No like that they got the dog from a story
that you did about a woman who did prison escape
with the dog.
Speaker 3 (24:49):
It's perfect. Yes, we need those.
Speaker 2 (24:51):
This is if you can connect your pet to a
story we tell on the main episode totally let us know.
Speaker 1 (24:58):
Gmail, Thank you guys for listening. And today sex and
don't get murdered. Cooky, Elvis, do you want a cookie?
Speaker 2 (25:12):
This has been an exactly right production.
Speaker 1 (25:14):
Our senior producers are Aleahundra Keck and Molly Smith.
Speaker 2 (25:17):
Our editor is Aristotle las Veda.
Speaker 3 (25:19):
This episode was mixed by Leona Scuolacci.
Speaker 2 (25:21):
Email your hometowns to my favorite Murder at gmail dot com.
Speaker 1 (25:24):
And follow the show on Instagram at My Favorite Murder.
Speaker 2 (25:27):
Listen to My Favorite Murder on the iHeartRadio app, Apple
Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker 1 (25:31):
And now you can watch us on exactly rights YouTube page.
And while you're there, please like and subscribe.
Speaker 3 (25:36):
Y bye bye
Hosts And Creators
Georgia Hardstark
Karen Kilgariff
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