The Broken Handle (PODCAST EXCLUSIVE EPISODE)

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At around 9 a.m.

on March 6th, 1963, a woman living in a nice neighborhood in Minnesota heard her doorbell ring.

So she got up from her seat at the kitchen and began walking toward the door.

But before she got there, the doorbell rang again.

Ruth was immediately annoyed because she was thinking it had to be some salesman being really bushy, but nonetheless, she hustled to the door and she opened it up, and immediately she could tell this was no salesman.

This was an emergency.

Minutes later, police were swarming the neighborhood, guns drawn.

But before we get into that story, if you're a fan of the Strange, Dark, and Mysterious delivered in story format, then you've come to the right podcast because that's all we do and we upload twice a week.

once on Monday and once on Thursday.

So if that's of interest to you, please offer to make the Amazon Music Follow button a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but be sure to sneak in a single slice of cheese still wrapped in plastic.

Okay, let's get into today's story.

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Early on the morning of March 6th, 1963, 34-year-old Carol Thompson leaned toward the kitchen window of her big brick house on Hillcrest Avenue.

In Minnesota, winters were long and cold, and Carol knew the snow she saw falling over the backyard wasn't heavy enough to mean that school would be canceled that day.

But before Carol turned her attention back to the counter where she was getting lunches packed for her four kids, she closed her eyes and thought about the trip she'd just taken a few months ago to the Minnesota Museum of American Art.

The scene outside reminded her of one of the paintings she'd seen there.

And a second later, all Carol wanted was to be back at that museum, not just looking at the painting, but also standing next to the man who had taken her there.

Absentmindedly, Carol began twisting the gold wedding band on her left ring finger.

It wasn't her husband, Cotton Thompson, who she'd gone to the museum with.

It was a man that Cotton had hired to do some work on the Thompson house more than a year ago.

Carol and Cotton just called him by his nickname, Big Red.

The tall, handsome, and red-haired door and window salesman had taken an immediate and obvious liking to Carol.

And even after the work in the Thompson house was done, Big Red and Carol had kept in in touch.

Carol's husband, Cotton, who was a criminal defense attorney in downtown St.

Paul, was so busy with his law practice that sometimes Carol felt forgotten.

And so she had enjoyed Big Red's attention and harmless flirting.

So, whenever Big Red was working in the Thompson's upper-class neighborhood, with all the expensive Tudor-style homes with their gabled windows and exposed timber beams, Big Red would make a point to stop by the house to visit Carol.

Big Red would go on strolls in the park with her and even drove her and the four Thompson kids out to the family's summer home on Forest Lake north of St.

Paul.

But those visits had stopped a few months ago after Cotton had become furious to find them talking and laughing together in the backyard one afternoon when he came home unexpectedly from work.

Now as Carol stood at the window, she looked down at her hands and saw what she was doing with her wedding band and she gave herself a mental shake.

It was true that Carol had been disappointed when Cotton had told Big Red to stay away from her, but as she reminded herself, Big Red had never posed any real threat to her marriage.

In fact, Carol had actually been a bit thrilled to see Cotton's show of jealousy, and she had definitely enjoyed the extra attention Cotton had been paying to her ever since that backyard face-off.

Besides, everything that Carol had ever really wanted in life was right here, under the roof of the two-and-a-half-story home that Cotton had redecorated just for her, right down to the custom rugs and the color of the brand new appliances.

And best of all, Carol finally had the chance to finish her college degree after 13 years at home raising their four kids.

Turning to the kitchen counter, Carol took a deep breath, then focused her attention on the familiar tasks that made up her morning routine.

With military precision, she laid out the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and fruit for the three Thompson girls to take to the local elementary school and the apple that her 13-year-old son always brought to middle school.

Carol had just finished packing the kids' brown bag lunches when she heard the familiar sound of Cotton's footsteps as he came down the stairs.

And by the time the farm boy and Navy veterans strolled into the kitchen, Carol was already smiling.

And that smile got even wider when her 36-year-old husband didn't stop until he was close enough that Carol could smell his aftershave.

As she turned to face Cotton, he gave her a warm kiss on the lips.

When Cotton finally stepped away, the connection between husband and wife felt like it was as strong as it had been 14 years ago when Carol had first met Cotton at Macalester College.

Carol had been studying Russian literature at the small prestigious college.

Cotton was two years ahead of her, and he was finishing his degree in economics.

Cotton had an easy charm and could make people laugh, but he also had serious ambition.

He wanted to be a respected and financially successful lawyer, and he had the drive to achieve those goals.

They married within a year of meeting each other, and by then, Cotton had already decided that this smart, passionate woman, who adored books and art, was a partner he would love and cherish for the rest of his days.

The two wasted no time starting a family.

Carol was pregnant just a few months after the wedding.

And now, looking at Cotton, Carol thought about how little he had changed.

Even though Cotton's hair was still wet from a morning bath, the water hardly even darkened the color.

A blonde so white that her husband had been called Cotton ever since he was a boy.

Cotton knew that his wife had been annoyed when he had told Big Red that he was no longer welcome at their home.

But Cotton was smart enough to know that Carol was an extremely attractive woman with her dark curly hair and easy smile, and all Big Red's interest in Carol had really done was to remind Cotton not to fall into the trap of taking his wife for granted.

Cotton wanted to get home from work in time to watch the kids, so Carol could make it to school that evening.

Cotton had a late meeting that day that could delay him, but he promised Carol he'd move it if he had to.

He hated when she had to miss a class because of him.

And also, there was another reason Cotton didn't want to stay late at work tonight.

He was nervous to leave Carol home alone.

Just a week earlier, everyone in St.

Paul had been totally shocked by the murder of a 15-year-old high school student who had been stabbed and beaten to death.

Her schoolmate had confessed to the killing just three days later, but the sheer brutality of the crime had put everyone in the Thompsons neighborhood on edge.

As Cotton stepped out the door with their son, he told Carol he'd give her a call sometime this morning to check in and let her know when he'd be able to get home that night.

They gave each other a final kiss, and then Carol watched Cotton and Jeff disappear into the falling snow.

About an hour later, as Carol was vacuuming the upstairs bedrooms, she heard the telephone ring.

As she turned off the vacuum and headed downstairs to answer it, she wished that they had a second phone up in their master bedroom.

Picking up the receiver in the kitchen, Carol heard Cotton's upbeat voice at the other end of the line.

His secretary had apparently changed his schedule so he would be home in time for Carol to go to her evening class.

By the time Carol was off the phone and heading back upstairs to put the vacuum cleaner away, she decided that with a late night ahead of her, maybe she'd just take a break from cleaning and go back to bed.

But once Carol was inside the master bedroom, she heard a sound that she didn't recognize coming from somewhere in the house.

She held her breath for a second and just listened intently.

Carol suddenly missed their little dog, Shotzi, who was a terribly behaved dachshund, whose bad habits included barking at everything that moved.

They had just recently gotten rid of him because he chewed up all their carefully redecorated furniture.

As Carol strained her ears to hear the sound again, she couldn't hear anything.

The house was totally quiet.

But Carol was still very much on edge.

So when she heard the sound again a minute later, she leapt out of her bed, walked up to the door, and opened it to see what was going on.

And when she did, she saw there was someone standing right there.

Carol had no time to think.

Adrenaline flooding her body, she started to fight for her life.

Ten minutes later, just after 9 a.m., three houses east of the Thompson house, the bell rang.

Ruth Nelson left her breakfast nook to answer the door.

But before she got there, the bell rang again.

So Ruth hustled the last few steps and opened the door, expecting to chew out a salesman for being so pushy.

But instead, she saw a woman standing there, barefoot and dressed only in a blood-soaked blue bathrobe.

Blood was streaming from cuts on her scalp and face.

It took Ruth a moment to recognize that this was her neighbor and friend, Carol Thompson.

Carol, as she looked at Ruth, she grabbed at her throat, and Ruth noticed there was something metal protruding from it.

And then in a hoarse voice barely above a whisper, Carol begged Ruth for help.

Ruth and her husband quickly helped Carol into their home, and Ruth asked Carol over and over again, who did this to you?

And Carol just looked at her friend and forced out a few words.

She said, quote, a man came to my house.

And then Carol collapsed on the rug.

A police officer and his sergeant were just a few blocks away, sitting in their squad car, when they heard the dispatch call at 9.07 a.m.

that morning.

They arrived at the Nelson home first, where they found the victim, Carol, lying on the floor.

Her eyes were open, but she couldn't speak.

The doctor, who lived across the street, had rushed over to help when his wife saw Carol staggering down the street, and the doctor was putting pressure on Carol's most serious wounds.

The police officers immediately called for help, and they would discover that the ambulance was actually already on its way.

And so, just a couple of minutes later, the paramedics arrived, they loaded Carol into the ambulance, and they sped off with her.

Meanwhile, Ruth's adult son, who was close to Cotton's age and had known him for years, volunteered to make the difficult call to Cotton's law office.

He walked slowly to the phone, took a deep breath, and then dialed.

When he got Cotton on the line, he would tell him that his wife had been in some sort of accident and was now being taken to nearby Anchor Hospital.

As the sirens of a half a dozen arriving police cars wailed, the two police officers who had responded first to the scene went three doors down to the Thompson's house.

The first thing they noticed were fresh footprints in the snow covering the brick walkway that ran from the front door to the sidewalk.

Prints that could have belonged to a family member or perhaps the assailant.

The two policemen could also see that the front storm door was closed, but the inner door was open, indicating that the killer, or someone, had left in a hurry.

They walked around the footprints, careful not to disturb them, as they peered inside the home.

When they saw a puddle of blood on the entryway floor, they decided to wait for those squad cars to arrive before going any further.

Within minutes, Detective George Barkley pulled up at the Thompson house along with several officers of the St.

Paul Police Department, where the 50-year-old detective had served for 25 years.

Barkley adjusted his fedora hat as he stepped out of the car.

The officers on scene told him they found that front door wide open and the side door to the house was unlocked.

Detective Barkley knew that if either door had been left unlocked, then that really meant just about anyone could have entered the house and done this.

Detective Barkley drew his gun and then led the officers inside the home, being very mindful that the killer could still be in the house.

But after searching every room in the house, they discovered that the house was clear.

There was no one else there.

Barkley headed back upstairs.

The kids' bedrooms were undisturbed, but the master bedroom was totally ransacked.

Barkley wondered if this was maybe a robbery gone wrong.

Maybe a burglar was surprised to find Carol home, and they attacked her.

That would explain the chaos inside the house.

But there were some things about the crime scene that didn't fit the robbery theory.

They didn't really fit any coherent theory at all.

As Barkley walked through the house, he just felt more and more confused by the evidence he was seeing.

For some reason, the tub in the bathroom was filled with about six inches of lukewarm water.

There was no indication that Carol had been bathing at the time of the attack.

There were also smears of blood on the sink and floor, along with a 14-inch length of thick rubber hose.

Clearly, the detective thought, the robber must have brought the hose, but for what reason, he didn't know.

In a pool of blood near the bathroom, investigators also found pieces of black and white plastic, the broken handle to a gun.

Detective Barkley tracked signs of a struggle, which began upstairs and continued downstairs.

Carol's fight for her life appeared to have climaxed somewhere between the front entrance to the house and the kitchen.

The kitchen was totally smeared with blood, a drawer had been yanked open and several knives had been pulled out of a tray.

The drawer and the linoleum floor were also spotted red.

Barkley's men eventually found a pool of blood in the front entrance, and they also found three live bullets on the floor.

If the robber had a gun, Barkley thought, why why had they stabbed Carol so many times instead of just shooting her?

And finally, there was the strange question of what, if anything, had actually been stolen.

From what Barkley could tell, the house was trashed, but there were pieces of jewelry and other obviously expensive items laying around.

At the front entrance, sitting in a pool of blood, they even found a small woman's ring with a cluster of stones in the shape of a heart.

And so if this was a robbery, it had been a very unsuccessful one.

As Detective Barkley and his team examined the inside of the house, other officers canvassed the neighborhood.

For everyone else on the block, it had been a totally normal Wednesday morning, with people beginning their commutes to work and getting their kids off to school.

But when police spoke to all the neighbors, nobody had seen anything out of the ordinary.

Carol's next-door neighbor had called Carol at 9 a.m., just about the time that Carol was getting attacked.

When Carol didn't answer the phone, the neighbor actually peered into her bedroom window to see if she was home, but the neighbor said she didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

Whoever attacked Carol had clearly managed to do it without attracting any attention at all, which was hard to do in such a close-knit neighborhood.

That suggested to the police that her assailant was not just a crazed person roaming the streets and breaking into homes at random.

Whoever assaulted Carol was clearly smart and efficient enough to get away quickly and quietly.

As long as they were free, the public could still be in danger.

At 10.30 a.m., so an hour and a half after the attack on Carol, the St.

Paul Police Department's crime lab team arrived and began dusting for fingerprints, hoping the assailant left his mark.

Neighbors peered out of windows, watching the men in overcoats and galoshes standing in the falling snow, taking notes, and snapping photographs.

Police also discovered blood droplets and smears tracing Carol's path to various neighbors' houses as she ran around trying to get help.

The criminologist followed Carol's footprints out the side door and around the back of her house to the house immediately to the east, and red smears indicated that Carol had rung the bell and pounded on the door and then gone to the next house over before she stumbled to Ruth's house at the corner.

Nearby, at Anchor Hospital, where Carol had been taken by the ambulance, her husband, Cotton, sat in the waiting room sobbing while a team of doctors desperately tried to save Carol's life.

When Carol had been brought in, she had no pulse.

She lost a lot of blood, mainly from the knife wounds in her neck and scalp, and she had lots of cuts on her arms and hands.

Carol had clearly fought back hard.

There was a three-inch blade stuck in Carol's throat.

The surgeons had removed it and they performed a procedure called a tracheotomy, which is when doctors cut a hole directly into a person's throat from the outside to help them breathe.

But Carol's heart was barely beating, so the doctors put put manual pressure on her heart to try to jump-start it.

Doctors also drilled a hole in Carol's skull to remove any blood that might have pooled inside of her head from all the blows she had taken.

But ultimately, Carol's injuries proved to be too severe.

And at 12:58 p.m.

on March 6th, 1963, four hours after Carol stumbled down her block looking for help, the doctors pronounced her dead.

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The violent assault had now become a murder investigation for the St.

Paul police, and homicides in this Midwestern city were very rare.

St.

Paul saw an average of just six a year.

But one of those murders had just taken place six days before Carol's, the beating and stabbing of a 15-year-old schoolgirl, only two miles from the Thompsons' home.

There were some similarities between the two deadly assaults, but Detective Barkley helped put that killer behind bars three days before Carol was killed.

The schoolgirl killing resolved quickly, but it unsettled the residents of Carol's and Cotton's fashionable Highland Park neighborhood, where there had only been a couple of homicides since the end of World War II 18 years before, and it put a lot of pressure on Detective Barkley to solve this case fast.

At the hospital, Detective Barkley spoke to Carol's grief-stricken husband.

Cotton would say that Carol had been in a good mood that morning when he left for work just after 8.

He also mentioned calling Carol at 8.30 that morning to tell her he would be able to watch the kids that night so she'd be able to go to school.

As a defense attorney, Cotton did understand that the husband would be the number one person of interest at the start of any murder investigation, and he was patient and polite with the barrage of questions from the police.

He referred investigators to his secretary who confirmed that Cotton was indeed at his office at the time of his wife's murder.

Cotton would also suggest to Detective Barkley two possible theories for this crime.

Cotton said that it was possible that one of his former clients might have come to rob him or hurt Carol, but he couldn't think of any actual ex-associates who were disgruntled with him.

He offered the police access to his client history, but he said he really didn't think it would lead them to the killer.

Then, Cotton told the detective his second theory.

This one, he said, made much more sense than an angry client.

It involved a red-haired window-indoor salesman that he'd done business with a year earlier.

Cotton told detectives that this salesman, named Big Red, developed a clear infatuation with his wife and found every excuse to come to their house to see Carol.

Cotton told police that he really didn't like the friendship, quote, that had developed between this man and his wife.

Barkley asked Cotton if Carol could have been having an affair with Big Red.

Cotton shook his head and said, absolutely not.

He had seen what was developing between Big Red and his wife, and he had stepped in to put a stop to it before it went any further.

Cotton explained that a few months earlier, he had come home unexpectedly in the middle of the afternoon, and he had found Big Red in the backyard talking to his wife.

And Cotton had watched them from inside the house, and Big Red had said something that made Carol laugh.

Her eyes were sparkling, and then Big Red put a hand on Carol's waist, and at that point, Cotton said he burst out the side door and told Big Red to stay away from his wife and his kids.

And they proceeded to get into this big shouting match.

Cotton was ready to punch Big Red, but before any any fists flew, Big Red ultimately stormed off, and as he left, Big Red vowed that this would not be the last time they saw him.

The police would also speak to Carol and Cotton's neighbors on either side of their house to see if they knew anything about this relationship Carol had with Big Red.

And the neighbors would say they saw Big Red around spending time with Carol and the kids, and it just seemed like he was a friend of the family.

The neighbors did say, though, that it seemed like Big Red was flirting with Carol, and none could blame him for liking their attractive neighbor.

Beneath her horn-rimmed glasses, Carol had this winning smile and quick wit.

I mean, she was amazing.

And Carol had admitted to her neighbors that she found Big Red very attractive.

They both liked art and literature, neither of which held any appeal for Cotton.

But Carol swore to whoever she talked to that she and Big Red were just friends.

However, whatever the real status of that relationship was, Detective Barkley knew he now had his first good lead.

Barkley tracked down Big Red at work that afternoon and drove him to the station.

Big Red sat with his head in his hands, sobbing as he answered the detective's questions about his relationship to the Thompson family.

He confirmed that he had developed a friendship with Carol after he sold cottons and windows for their house.

and he admitted that after that job was finished, he would swing by to see Carol when he was in the neighborhood.

Big Red told police that he had taken Carol to an art museum a couple of times, and once he drove Carol and the kids to their summer home, but he was adamant that he had had nothing to do with Carol's death.

He told Barkley that after his backyard altercation with Cotton, he dropped his friendship with Carol altogether.

Big Red figured that it would be best for him to stay away.

He said he hadn't seen Carol since the dust-up with Cotton, and at 9 a.m.

on March 6th, when Carol was attacked, Big Red said he was at a sales conference, which his boss would back up.

And so, this case was clearly not going to wrap up as fast as Detective Barkley hoped, and the police department was really starting to feel the heat.

News of Carol's murder sent shockwaves through the Highland Park and larger Twin Cities communities.

A home invasion in that exclusive neighborhood was unthinkable.

And the victim, an all-American housewife and mother of four, was well known in the community and universally adored.

To imagine such a woman meeting such a brutal end shook people to the core, and the killer, whoever they were, was still out there.

Nervous housewives peered out of their windows, refusing to answer the door for deliveries or door-to-door salesmen, and husbands began coming home early from work every night.

In a town that rarely saw a locked door, chain locks were now flying off the shelves of hardware stores.

Sporting goods stores ran out of shotgun shells and pistols and bullets.

Public officials demanded results.

In response, across the Twin Cities region, police rounded up anyone who could in any way be considered a suspect.

Wives turned in abusive husbands, petty thieves and sex offenders were pulled off the street.

Police hauled in peeping toms, public drunks, and known burglars.

They threw homeless men, even the disabled and mentally ill into squad cars and took them downtown.

Anyone that seemed even a little bit different or, quote, suspicious in any way, the police fingerprinted and interrogated.

But none seemed connected to the case.

As the month of March 1963 ticked away, Detective Barkley was starting to get frustrated.

He had no fingerprints and no eyewitnesses.

His victim had problems in her marriage, but both her husband and the other man she had gotten close to had very solid alibis.

The crime scene looked like a robbery, except nothing had been stolen.

The only good evidence he really had was the black and white pieces of plastic laminate that police had found in the entryway of the home and in the upstairs hallway.

They were very likely parts of the handle of some kind of gun.

Detective Barkley figured if he could just identify the weapon, maybe it could lead him to his killer.

So he sent the pieces of plastic off to the FBI for analysis, and then he waited very impatiently for a few weeks, and then finally he got his answer.

The plastic pieces were indeed from the grip of a gun.

They were from a custom-made pistol grip for a 765mm Luger pistol.

Detective Barkley felt relief at finally making progress here, and now he was hopeful that this would lead to the break in the case that he so badly needed.

And so, on April 5th, one month after the murder, Detective Barkley and the St.

Paul Police Chief held a televised press conference.

They affixed those customized pieces of the pistol grip onto an identical Luger and displayed images of it in postercied photos.

Barkley and the police chief chief blasted these pictures all over the state in hopes that someone would recognize this custom gun and call the police to tell them who it belonged to.

In the days following the press conference, Barkley began combing through the numerous tips he had from the public since the murder.

And at some point, he found an unnamed source claiming that Cotton had taken out $900,000 in life insurance on his wife across three carriers.

And some of those policies were apparently written as recently as two months before the murder.

Barkley looked into this claim, and he soon discovered that Cotton had indeed taken out policies, but with eight carriers totaling $1.1 million,

about $10 million in today's dollars.

At this time, the average American was making less than $10,000 a year.

Investigators spoke to Carol's parents.

Her father, who was a successful heating and plumbing contractor in St.

Paul, valued his own estate at about $600,000, which would be about about $6 million today.

Carol, being an only child, was set to inherit all of that money.

Meaning, if she were to die, the family fortune was set to go to her and Cotton and the kids.

Detective Barkley started wondering if this, quote, pillar of the community, aka Cotton, was not really the man he presented himself to be.

As his investigators spoke to more people in the Thompson Circle of Friends, he learned that Cotton was often seen around town with other women.

Cotton started to look really suspicious to Barkley.

But being a bad husband and buying life insurance was not illegal, and Barkley could find no connection between Cotton and the murder weapon.

But before Barkley got too deep into his re-examination of Cotton, his press conference about the Luger totally paid off.

On April 9th, he received a call from someone claiming that the Luger was actually his.

A traveling salesman from Minneapolis told police that his apartment had been burglarized on February 14th, three weeks before Carol's murder, and one of the items he reported stolen was that pistol.

He had made the customized hand grip in a shop class at a local community college.

Detective Barkley confirmed that the salesman was nowhere near St.

Paul the day of Carol's murder and so could not have been her killer.

Finally, this felt to Barkley like a really solid lead backed by evidence.

But it presented a whole new set of challenges.

Now Barkley had to solve a burglary in another city in the hopes that the perpetrator of that crime was also the one who committed this murder.

But it wouldn't take long for the police to catch another break.

On April 17th, so eight days after that salesman called to say that Luger was his, Two masked men burst into a bar in St.

Paul, they drew their guns, and demanded the bartender hand over the cash in his till.

Then one of the robbers punched the bartender before taking the money and escaping with his accomplice.

A few days later, St.

Paul police arrested the two men on suspicion of burglary and assault.

The tavern robbery was the latest of several robberies they had committed in the area.

When police got the thieves into interview rooms in the jail, one of the robbers struck a deal with the county and started talking.

He had information the police wanted.

He knew all about that special luger the cops were looking for.

He and his buddy were the ones who actually stole it.

The robber claimed that he had only had the Luger for a month.

He told police that two weeks before Carol's murder, he had given the gun to a man that he and his accomplice knew.

His name was Norman Mastrian.

The cops knew Norman too.

He was a former champion boxer whose life had gone totally south and he'd had lots of scrapes with the law.

In fact, he was actually a suspect in another murder, but detectives couldn't find enough evidence to charge him.

Detective Barkley thought Norman was certainly capable of killing Carol, but the robber told police that Norman was not the last person he had seen with that Luger.

The day before Carol got murdered, the robber watched Norman give it to someone else, a guy named Dick W.C.

Anderson.

And police did some digging, and they discovered that Dick was a Korean War veteran with a purple heart.

And to get a purple heart, it means you got injured in combat.

But Dick also had a drinking problem, and he had been through a a bitter divorce, and he was now apparently a petty criminal, but it really didn't seem like he was a murderer.

And Dick had absolutely no connections to the Thompsons, so why would he kill Carol?

It felt like the more clues Detective Barkley and his team found, the more of a mystery this case became.

Detective Barkley had no problem finding Norman Mastrian, the former champion boxer, but Dick Anderson, the last one to have the Luger, was another story.

Dick had left town in a hurry after seeing Barkley's press conference about the Luger.

Detective Barkley put out an all-points bulletin across the country with a description of Dick.

It was a long shot, but on May 19th, it paid off.

1,700 miles from St.

Paul, police in Phoenix, Arizona entered a cheap motel on an unrelated matter, and they recognized the man who was checking out at the time as Dick Anderson.

Police immediately extradited Dick back to Minnesota, and after three days in jail, Dick Anderson would confess to everything.

And suddenly, all the loose ends and confusing, conflicting pieces of evidence made a terrible kind of sense.

The story that Dick had to tell was far more shocking than anything Detective Barkley or any of his colleagues had imagined.

Here's what really happened on March 6th, 1963, the day Carol Thompson was murdered.

Before dawn, Dick Anderson slipped into the Thompson house through the unlocked side door while everyone in the house was asleep.

Dick moved silently through the kitchen and headed down to the basement where he waited in the dark.

Now, what Dick was doing was not his typical line of work.

However, he was broke, and the $3,000 that Norman Mastrian had offered him to do what he was going to do was a lot of money, and so he had agreed to do it.

So Dick waited in the darkness of a stranger's basement, periodically glancing at the hand-drawn map he had been given of the home's layout.

Dick had also fortified his courage with vodka and amphetamines, and so his heart was racing.

The sun rose and Dick listened as just a few feet above his head in the kitchen, Carol got her family fed and out the door.

About 20 minutes later, Carol answered the telephone.

It was Cotton calling from the office, telling her he'd be home in time for Carol to go to class that evening.

Meanwhile, in the basement, Dick grasped the 14-inch length of thick rubber tubing Norman had given him.

Dick's plan was to slip into the kitchen and strike Carol on the back of the head with this rubber.

He thought a clean blow would totally knock her out.

Dick could hear Carol's voice muffled through the floorboards as she spoke to her husband.

Dick carefully headed up the stairs until one of the wooden steps let out a loud squeak.

He heard Carol's voice stop cold.

Dick froze and waited to hear Carol resume her phone call.

He realized that Carol would hear him coming if he continued up the stairs, so he revised his plan.

He would wait in the basement until he was sure Carol had left the kitchen.

Eventually, Dick would hear Carol vacuuming on the second floor for several minutes, and then right as he was about to go up, he heard the phone ring again.

But this time, Carol did not come downstairs to answer it.

She stayed upstairs and let it ring.

And so at this point, Dick made his move.

He ascended the last few basement steps, he padded through the empty kitchen and climbed the main stairs to the second floor.

And as he did this, Carol heard him and she walked to her bedroom door right as he arrived in front of her bedroom door.

And when Carol opened it up, she was totally startled to see this man she had never seen before standing in her house.

But before she could scream, Dick told Carol that he was just here to rob her.

He promised that if she did what she was told, she would get through this just fine.

And so Carol did as she was told and she laid down face first on the floor, at which point Dick struck her in the back of the head with that thick rubber hose, knocking her out.

He then dragged Carol's unconscious body down the second floor landing, leaving her in front of the bathroom door for a moment.

Then Dick looked into the bathroom and he saw water in the bathtub, just as Norman had told him to expect.

But as Dick began dragging Carol into the bathroom, Carol woke up and immediately she began fighting back.

Dick in a panic pulled out the Luger to shoot her, but the pistol wouldn't fire and so he just began bashing the pistol into Carol's face.

Blood flowed from Carol's forehead, but she just kept on fighting.

Dick hit her again and again, hard enough to break off a piece of the gun's white-and-black plastic laminate grip.

Carol eventually managed to separate herself from her attacker, and she scrambled down the stairs, tumbling into the entryway, and she tried to escape out the front door.

But Dick caught up to her right as she was struggling to open up the chain latch, and he continued to bludgeon her over and over again with his now broken gun.

Another piece of the handle would break off during this beating downstairs, and three live rounds would pop out of the gun.

At this point, Dick was totally panicking and he left Carol on the floor moaning in pain and he ran into the kitchen.

There he rifled through a door and grabbed a three-inch pairing knife to finish Carol off.

Dick descended on Carol in the hallway between the kitchen and front entrance and began stabbing her over and over.

On the 50th blow, the knife got stuck in Carol's throat, and when Dick tried to pull it out again, the blades snapped off the handle.

At this point, Carol finally stopped moving, and Dick climbed off her, marveling at her will to live.

But now it was over, and Dick had things to do before getting out of there as fast as he could.

Upstairs in the bathroom, Dick turned on the sink and washed the blood off his shaking hands.

He then rushed into the neatly kept master bedroom, pulling out drawers, knocking things over to make it look like this was a robbery gone bad.

As Dick bounded down the stairs, he didn't notice that Carol was no longer where he had left her in the short hallway that led to the kitchen.

Dick had no clue that as he was heading out the front door, Carol was stumbling down the block looking for help.

Dick left the Highland Park neighborhood and connected with Norman.

Nothing in their plan had gone as expected.

What was supposed to be a bloodless killing had turned into a gory and violent mess.

Together, they disposed of the gun in a swampland north of St.

Paul, and then when Norman returned to his home, he picked up the phone to make the hardest call of all.

At the other end of the line was the man who had plotted Carol's death from the start and actually put up the money to make it happen.

This was the one person Carol had loved and trusted since she first met him 14 years ago at Macalester College.

It was Carol's husband, Eugene Cotton Thompson.

and he had been planning his wife's murder for almost two years.

Cotton had been in an on-again, off-again affair for three years with a woman named Jackie Olson.

He met Jackie when he represented her in a divorce.

Cotton handled divorces as well as criminal cases.

The attractive young mother didn't have the money to pay him, so Cotton got her a job as a stenographer so she could work it off.

She'd go to, quote, business dinners with Cotton and out-of-town trips while Carol stayed home with the kids.

Cotton enjoyed his illicit romance, but Jackie wanted to build a life with him.

When Cotton balked at leaving Carol and his kids, Jackie said fine, and she married another man.

But when Jackie's new relationship hit the rocks fast, Cotton made another play for her.

He promised Jackie that they wouldn't have to worry about Carol anymore and they'd have plenty of money to live on for the rest of their lives.

One of the clients that Cotton represented as a defense attorney was an old classmate from Macalester who had had several scrapes with the law, including being roped into an unrelated murder.

This person was Norman Mastrian, and Norman didn't have to plan anything.

Cotton had that all figured out.

A month before the murder, Cotton got rid of the family dog who barked whenever anything came into the house.

Cotton had removed the upstairs phone two days before the murder, telling Carol he would swap it out for a phone that fit the house's new color scheme.

He planned to call Carol on the morning of the murder, which would ensure that she would go into the kitchen where the only phone left in the house was located.

It was here that Cotton planned for Norman to strike her with the rubber hose and knock her out, and then Norman was supposed to carry an unconscious Carol up the stairs to the bathroom where there would be water left in the tub.

Cotton did not typically bathe before work.

But on the day of the murder, he would.

And he'd leave the stopper in the drain so Norman could fill Carol's lungs with the water.

Cotton figured they could make it look like Carol slipped in the tub, hit her head, and then drowned in the bathwater.

Knowing that the police would be looking at Cotton as their first suspect, he had had an airtight alibi.

He'd be at work making phone calls with his secretary.

Cotton planned to finger Big Red for the murder.

But Cotton's plan unraveled in a few key places.

First, Norman Mastrian, despite whatever crimes he had committed up to that point, he couldn't bring himself to actually kill a church-going mother of four.

So he had subcontracted out the actual killing and did not tell Cotton.

Norman gave Dick Anderson the same marching orders Cotton had given him.

But Dick wanted more than just a piece of rubber tubing with him when he entered the Thompson house, and so he asked Norman for a backup weapon in the form of a gun.

Norman then turned to his two robber friends who gave him the customized Luger pistol they'd recently stolen when they burglarized an apartment, and Norman gave it to Dick.

Cotton could never have anticipated that pieces of a gun he never planned on using during this attack would then lead police to the hitman who would then confess everything he knew.

Police arrested Cotton on June 20th, 1963, two months after Carol's murder.

In November of 1963, just eight months after the murder, a jury found Cotton Thompson guilty and the judge sentenced him to life in prison.

As for Norman Mastrian, the middleman for the hit, he was sentenced to 20 years in prison, all of which he served.

And as for Dick Anderson, the man who actually killed Carol, he would spend almost two decades behind bars.

Thank you for listening to the Mr.

Ballin podcast.

If you enjoyed today's story, be sure to check out our YouTube channel just called Mr.

Ballin, where we have hundreds more stories just like this one, many of which are not available on this podcast.

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Ballin.

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