Happily Ever After (PODCAST EXCLUSIVE EPISODE)

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In 1979, at a hospital in Alabama, a neurologist hustled down the hallway and turned left into a particular room.

Inside was a female patient who was lying on her back on a bed with her legs propped up on pillows.

Before she could ask the doctor what was going on, he just said, show me your hands.

Puzzled, the woman did as she was told, and the neurologist lifted them up to look at them closely, and at some point, he saw it.

And when he did, without saying anything, he just dropped her hands, turned around, and rushed right back out into the hall.

But before we get into that story, if you're a fan of the Strange, Dark, and Mysterious delivered in story format, then you 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 replace the Amazon Music Follow Button's Sleepy Time Tea with a tall cup of black label coffee from Devil Mountain Coffee Company.

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

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On an early evening in December of 1982, in the small town of Keene, New Hampshire, 35-year-old John Homan opened the door to Friendly's restaurant.

At the welcoming sound of the bell over the door that announced his presence, the waitress standing behind the service counter opposite him smiled.

Because John, with his flannel shirt, wide grin, bald head, and thick mustache, was one of this restaurant's most frequent customers, sometimes stopping by for two meals in a single day.

But she also knew that the food at this Friendly's, which was basic American plus really good ice cream, was not the main attraction for John.

As John had once explained to her, it was the location of this particular Friendly's that was perfect.

The cheerful brick-and-white building with its bright red logo was exactly halfway between the office where John's wife Robbie had worked and the office where John worked as a machinist making small metal parts for a company called Findings Incorporated.

The couple had first discovered this restaurant two years ago when they had moved from the sunny south to chilly New England.

Ever since then, the little restaurant had become their favorite place to meet after work where they could eat a leisurely dinner together.

Afterward, they'd both hop in the only car they owned and make the 20-minute drive to their little home in Marlowe, a town to the north that was even smaller than Keene.

Now, as John took off his hat and said hello to the smiling waitress standing in front of him, her order pad at the ready, those bright early days of his marriage felt so far away they could have belonged to someone else.

Because, just 18 months after their arrival in Marlow, John's beloved wife, Robbie, had died of a rare blood disorder.

Immediately following Robbie's death, John had returned to Friendly's because it reminded him of his late wife.

Now, a few weeks later, he was there for a different reason.

John had found the one person in the whole world who could understand and share his grief over Robbie's death.

One of Robbie's last requests had been to her sister, Terry, who lived in Texas.

That's where Robbie had been when she died, staying with Terry while getting medical treatment at a highly regarded hospital in the Lone Star State.

What John did not know when Robbie had packed her bags and headed west to see Terry was that Robbie had already made the decision that if she died, she would donate her body to the Medical Texas Research Institute.

And when Robbie's treatment did in fact fail, just before Robbie passed, she had asked Terry to travel to New Hampshire, explain Robbie's decision to John, and then do whatever Terry could to help John get through what Robbie knew would be a devastating loss.

And now, just a few weeks into Terry's visit, John's grief had not only lifted, he had felt a new sense of hope and possibility.

Now, he was a regular at Friendly's because he wanted to share this special place with with Robbie's sister.

And tonight, in particular, John was there because he was planning a special little surprise for Terry.

But when John explained to the waitress that he was there to buy burgers to go for himself and Terry, and then to wait in their favorite booth for Terry to join him before they headed home, the woman's smile faded, and in its place, John saw a look that he was starting to recognize among his friends and acquaintances.

It was a look of such obvious disapproval that it was impossible for John not to notice.

And not only did John know exactly what people were thinking, he also couldn't blame them for the raised eyebrows.

Less than one week after Robbie's death and John had invited his dead wife's twin sister to move in with him?

And now the two of them could be seen walking around Keen, holding hands and tilting their heads back as they laughed and shared memories of Robbie.

But while John understood why this waitress might feel shocked at the speed of John's apparent recovery from his broken heart, for John, John, Robbie's death didn't feel as sudden as it must have felt for everyone else in town.

John had always known that Robbie was sick.

Almost as soon as they had met, in a bar in Florida a little more than two years ago, she had told him about the illness that caused periodic bouts of excruciating pain.

And during the last few months that Robbie had spent in New Hampshire before leaving for Texas that past summer, the pain had become so bad that it was hard for Robbie just to get out of bed in the morning.

John also knew that death affected him differently than it did most people.

Ever since he was 16 years old and his mother had died, death had always been sudden and grief was something you never showed or talked about.

He could still remember his father walking into his bedroom just hours after his mother had passed away and saying to him, get up and get dressed, your mother is dead.

And less than a decade later, John's father died too.

leaving John to take care of his five younger siblings, the youngest of whom was only 15 years old.

Those experiences had taught John that the only way to live with death was to keep moving forward, no matter what.

So when Robbie died and Terry flew out to New Hampshire to grieve with him, that impulse to keep moving, now with Terry, felt both natural and logical.

So John ignored the disapproval written all over the waitress's face.

He ordered dinner for himself and Terry, he paid the bill.

And then, with a bag of hot food in his hand, he headed to the same booth he always sat in with Robbie.

As he dropped dropped down onto the padded bench, John instinctively reached up and began patting his coat, trying to find the package he had hidden inside one of his pockets.

Once he felt it, he smiled to himself, and then he settled down to wait for Terry while she ran a few errands before she joined him.

And then, just a few minutes later, John heard the little bell on the door jingle again, and when he looked up, he saw Terry walking into the restaurant.

As always, just the sight of her made John's heart beat faster.

Terry was a woman of average height and and build, but she had an air of energy around her that had always made her stand out even back when she was a child.

And now, as an adult, especially in a small town like Keene, that captivating energy, coupled with Terry's carefully highlighted blonde hair, along with her neat and polished appearance, just added to her air of sophistication.

As Terry stepped over to where John was now standing and waiting for her, The expression in his eyes told her how proud he felt that she was there to meet him.

But Terry saw something else in John's eyes too, something that made her feel a deep connection to him.

Both of them had just shared the same loss, the death of John's wife and Terry's twin sister, Robbie.

Looking at John now, Terry could see the vulnerability and hurt behind John's smile.

And Terry knew that losing Robbie was not the first of John's losses.

Over the weeks they had spent together, John had told Terry about his parents' deaths and about how suddenly he had had to shoulder the responsibility of raising his younger brothers and sisters.

Terry had experienced many of her own losses in life too, but unlike John, Terry just didn't feel ready to share tragedies, at least not yet.

John's grief over Robbie was still very raw, and Robbie's instructions to Terry had been clear.

Robbie had wanted Terry to go to New Hampshire to comfort John, and for John and Terry to help one another move forward.

But Robbie's final wish couldn't stop Terry from thinking about her own past, especially when she was in a restaurant where families and children gathered for treats like milkshakes and Sundaes.

Because Terry herself had once had that kind of a family.

A husband named Frank and two children, a son named Mike and a daughter named Carol, and a nice house and a nice car.

Except then, Frank had died, and his death had changed everything.

What had looked in the beginning like a viral infection had turned out to be a chronic liver malfunction, and by the time Frank was admitted to the hospital, it was too late.

Frank's sudden death had left Terry alone to raise their two kids and care for her elderly mother on little more than what Terry could earn working as a secretary.

Those had been very bad years for Terry, and she wasn't proud of how she'd handled things.

But now, standing a world away from Alabama and those painful memories, Terry reminded herself that, like so many other women who are left alone in the world, she had done what she had to do in order to get by.

And once Terry's mother had died and Terry had become estranged from her son and daughter, it had felt easier for Terry to just leave her hometown of Anniston, hoping that the physical distance could dull the ache of these painful memories.

Still, Terry knew that keeping secrets was not a solid foundation for a happy relationship.

So she told herself that one day she would tell John about that dark period in her life.

But as she looked at him now, sitting there in the booth he used to share with Robbie, Terry knew today would not be that day.

After all, it had only been a month since Terry and John had driven to the local newspaper to file the information for Robbie's obituary.

Terry could still remember John standing at the reception desk.

Usually these details were delivered by the funeral home that was handling the service and burial, except in this case, Robbie's body had been donated to science, and so there would be no funeral or memorial service.

As John did his best to explain these confusing circumstances, Terry could see he was close to tears.

Taking a step closer to him, she tucked her arm inside of his.

John's love for Robbie was one of the things that Terry liked most about John, and it was also one of the things that had convinced Terry that she wanted to stay in Marlow with John.

After approving the final draft of Robbie's obituary, John and Terry had spent the rest of that day visiting Robbie's favorite places in Marlowe where she had lived and in Keene where she and John had both worked.

For Terry, it had been thrilling to experience in person all of these different things that Robbie had written about in her letters to Terry.

But not everyone Terry saw that day seemed happy about meeting her.

In the late afternoon, when Terry had walked into the company in Keene, where Robbie had worked as a customer service representative, Terry's appearance was greeted with shock.

In her letters to Terry, Robbie had said how much she enjoyed working at Central Screw, a manufacturing company that produced screws for other companies like car makers Ford and Chrysler.

So Terry had been very excited to meet this group of other women, mostly secretaries, who had probably talked with Robbie every day.

But when Robbie's old colleagues looked up from their typewriters and saw Terry standing there, looking so much like a woman whose death they had only just been informed about, they were more panic-stricken than welcoming.

One of them even started crying.

Terry pretended not to notice how obviously uncomfortable it was for people to see her there.

Instead, she just turned to John and, with a smile on her face, told him she was ready to leave.

But the truth was, Terry understood why the women were upset.

As children and teenagers, Terry and Robbie had looked even more alike.

But even now, as adults, despite the fact that Terry was much thinner than Robbie had been and their hair was no longer the same color, Terry knew the similarities could be startling.

especially to people who didn't know Terry well enough to see the differences between the sisters in terms of their temperament and habits and personality.

Luckily for Terry, John had come to know those differences, and Terry's physical resemblance to her sister no longer surprised him or made him feel uneasy.

But even though John had adopted the same habit of gift-giving with Terry that he had first established with Robbie, there was never any doubt that to him, the sisters were very different people who liked different things.

And sure enough, before Terry had even reached the booth where John was now standing, he was already pulling a small brown bag out of his pocket.

At the same time, he picked the bag of burgers up off the table behind him and waved to the waitress to let her know that he and Terry would be leaving.

As Terry opened the bag that John had handed her, she smiled.

If there was one thing that Terry loved to do, it was read romantic suspense novels.

As she looked down at the man and woman pictured on the cover, Terry understood that John was giving her two gifts, not just the book, but a chance to take her dinner home with her right now so she could settle into her favorite chair in front of the fire in their small living room and start reading.

As the couple stepped out of the restaurant into the snowy winter evening, John wrapped an arm around Terry's waist and headed across the parking lot to John's white Ford pickup truck.

A minute later, the two of them drove north through the small city of Keene to John's one-bedroom cabin in Marlowe To Terry, it didn't matter that John's cabin, which overlooked a small pond, was so remote, and that they had no phone and very little in the way of furniture.

Because when John and Terry got settled into their chairs in front of their wood-burning stove, it felt to both of them that they had absolutely everything they could ever want.

But even though both John and Terry knew that not everyone approved of their relationship, they had no idea that the local rumor mill was about to kick into high gear.

To some residents of Marlowe, it just seemed creepy that no sooner had John Homan lost his wife than he was living with her twin sister.

But to Robbie's former coworkers at Central Screw, the gossip about John and Terry had an even sharper edge.

Because, unknown to John, everything about his wife Robbie had always caused a lot of talk and speculation, and that included the circumstances of her sudden death.

And while Robbie may have told her sister Terry that Robbie got along great with most of her coworkers, The truth was more complicated.

While most of Robbie's male colleagues found her very charming and attractive, many of the women that Robbie worked with did not like her at all.

To them, it seemed like Robbie used her good looks and charisma to manipulate men, just as her stories about her life and her past seemed exaggerated and mostly intended to impress other people.

As a result, at least to the secretarial pool at Central Screw, anything having to do with Robbie was met with intense skepticism.

So, when Terry had walked into their office on her first day in Keene, looking almost exactly like Robbie, wearing Robbie's favorite ski jacket and smiling, just one day after they'd been told that Robbie died, red flags started waving in every direction.

Robbie's former coworkers couldn't explain why, but some of the women became convinced that something was not quite right about Robbie's sister, Terry.

Like her sister, Robbie, Terry was like a puzzle they couldn't stop trying to solve.

And for a small group of coworkers, finding out out more about these two sisters had become a mini-obsession.

So, shortly after meeting Terry, a group of these obsessed secretaries decided to do some detective work on their own.

Together, they dug through the back issues of the local newspaper and pulled out a copy of Robbie's obituary.

Starting at the top, Robbie's former coworkers began fact-checking each and every piece of information listed in the 100 words that sketched the picture of Robbie's life.

They looked up telephone numbers and addresses and double-checked the spelling of names.

Then they started calling hospitals and dispatchers and journalists in Dallas and Houston and Tyler, Texas.

And what these women found quickly turned their speculations and curiosity into outright shock.

But instead of confronting Terry about what they discovered, the secretaries took their findings to the police.

Keene might be a small town with a small-town police force where officers had a close relationship with the people they served and protected.

But even so, the Keene police were skeptical at first about a complaint that seemed largely based on office gossip and possibly an inaccurate death notice.

But when Keene police took a closer look at the hard facts that women at Central Screw had uncovered, very soon they were forced to agree.

There was something suspicious about Robbie's death and about Robbie's sister, Terry Martin.

So, using the information from Robbie's co-workers as a starting point, police began digging deeper into the two sisters' backstories.

And by January 12th of 1983, just two and a half months after Terry had first arrived in New Hampshire, law enforcement would learn much more about the secret tragedies that Terry had been hiding from her lover, John Homan.

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The investigation that started in the Keene Police Department first went all the way back to 1974.

That was about seven years before Terry met John, when Terry was living in the small town of Anniston, Alabama, with her husband Frank and their two kids.

That year, Terry's family would be hit with a series of terrible illnesses.

44-year-old Frank Hilley was the first member of the family to get sick.

Frank and Terry had been high school sweethearts, but over the course of their nearly 25-year marriage, Frank had slowly withdrawn from Terry, spending most of his emotional energy worrying about money.

Despite the fact that Frank had a good job working as a foreman at a local manufacturing plant, and Terry brought in some money working as a secretary, the couple still never seemed able to make enough money to keep up with their expenses.

And as Terry confided to friends, While Frank had no problem spending most of his evenings down at the local Elks social club, where he would drink and gamble with other men late into the night, if Terry so much as bought a new dress from the local department store, Frank would behave as though though she were single-handedly driving their family into financial ruin.

But even Frank's constant worrying, drinking, and gambling didn't explain the slow and terrible deterioration in Frank's health that Terry would see between 1974 and 1975.

At first, Frank suffered occasional stomach pains and nausea, but as time went on, he was experiencing severe bouts of vomiting, diarrhea, dizziness, and even hallucinations.

Terry encouraged Frank to see a doctor, but Frank insisted he was just having some stomach trouble.

But by the spring of 1975, Frank's condition had worsened to the point where his skin had become yellow and he was in constant pain, and finally he took Terry's advice and went to the hospital.

It didn't take doctors long to figure out what was wrong with him.

Frank had a chronic liver disease called infectious hepatitis.

and under normal circumstances, this would have been a very treatable illness.

But Frank had waited too long before getting medical help.

So by May 25th, less than a month after going to consult a doctor, 45-year-old Frank Hilley was dead.

Even though Frank had been sick for weeks, no one in his family expected that he would actually die.

And for Terry, that shock was quickly followed by a second shock.

Before she'd even had time to process the fact that her husband was dead, she found out that Frank had left her with thousands and thousands of dollars in debt.

So even though Terry was going to be receiving $30,000 from Frank's life insurance policy, by the time every credit card and loan was settled, there would only be a little bit of money left to help Terry and her two kids, 22-year-old Mike and 15-year-old Carol, move on with their lives.

And it would turn out, this was only the beginning of an even bigger wave of tragedy that would hit Terry's family over the next few years.

Soon after Frank's death, Terry's mother, Lucille, started to suffer from symptoms that were similar to the ones that Frank had experienced in the weeks leading up to his death.

This time though, Terry insisted they go see a doctor right away.

But instead of finding an illness that could be treated, doctors delivered a much more devastating diagnosis.

Terry's mother had terminal cancer.

Over the next year and a half, when Terry was not working, she would spend every spare moment she could with her mother, Lucille, as well as with her kids, Mike and Carol.

But by the time Lucille finally died, in January of 1977, less than two years after Frank, all the insurance money was gone, the family was completely dependent on Terry's small salary as a secretary, and Terry's younger child, Carol, was entering a very rebellious and difficult adolescence.

And just when Terry thought her life could not get any worse, it would turn out that the real nightmare was only beginning.

As Terry would soon tell Anniston police, she and her kids had become the victims of a series of unexplained and bizarre occurrences inside of their house.

In fact, these incidents had begun happening while Frank was still alive, but Terry had been so distracted that at first, she didn't even notice.

It started with a series of strange phone calls where the phone would ring and Terry would answer, but then the caller would either hang up or they would stay on the line but just breathe heavily and not say say a word.

Then things started going missing from inside the house.

They were things that were noticeable but not really valuable, like a hairdryer or flower pot, the kind of things that would send a message to the homeowner that someone had been inside the house when the owner was away.

At one point there were also a couple of small fires, both at Terry's house and at the house of her next door neighbor.

The police would come out to investigate, even putting a trace on Terry's phone to find out where these calls were coming from.

But But as Terry would tell the police when they checked back with her, it was like whoever was making these calls knew the police had gotten involved because as soon as police put the trace on her line, the calls stopped.

But just when Terry felt like her luck was finally improving, her stalker struck again.

During the summer of 1978, Terry and her teenage daughter Carol had moved in with Frank's mother, Carrie.

By then, Terry's son Mike had moved out of the house and headed off to Pompano Beach in southern Florida.

Barely able to afford the mortgage on the home that she had shared with Frank, Carrie's offer of a place to stay was the first good news Terry had had since her husband had died.

Until, that is, the telephone calls started again at Carrie's place.

And Carrie and Terry both began to notice irregularities.

An object here or there was missing, and there were nights when they'd come home to find the lights in the house had been turned on when they were very sure they'd turned them off.

And there was more sickness.

Before the end of that year, Terry's mother-in-law, Carrie, like Terry's own mother Lucille, was diagnosed with cancer.

And once again, Terry was called upon to look after a very sick relative.

And then, a year after that, in April of 1979, something even worse happened.

Terry's 19-year-old daughter, Carol, who had always been the picture of good health, also got sick.

In the beginning, Carol Carol herself waved off her bouts of illness as a series of bad reactions to something she had eaten or drank.

But when these symptoms persisted, they reminded Terry so much of Frank's illness that she immediately dragged her daughter in to see a doctor.

But Carol's doctor quickly determined that Carol was not suffering from hepatitis, the illness that killed her father.

However, none of the tests or scans or examinations performed at the hospital could determine what was making Carol sick.

So Terry took Carol to another hospital, and then another hospital, and then another hospital.

But none of the doctors at any of these hospitals could figure out what was causing Carol's symptoms.

And those symptoms just kept getting worse.

Over the next six months, Terry would watch as her daughter's body began to deteriorate right before her eyes.

Carol was in constant pain.

She had lost so much weight that she looked like a skeleton.

And then Carol started losing the feeling in her hands and feet.

By September of 1979, Carol could barely use her hands at all, and she was practically paralyzed below the knees.

And it seemed like whatever mysterious illness was working its way through Carol's body, it would likely kill her before the end of the year.

On top of everything else, while Carrie was at home dying of cancer, Terry had been arrested.

With the bills piling up and no money coming in, Terry had written some bad checks, and in early October, the police had put her in jail for three days.

Meanwhile, Carol was alone in the hospital, unable to walk or dress herself, afraid that she was going to die, and nobody could even tell her what was wrong with her, except that all that would change on the night of October 3rd, 1979.

That's when one of Carol's doctors, a newly hired young neurologist, was sitting in his office puzzling over a list of Carol's symptoms and all the tests that had been run on her during the last six months, and as he turned the pages of her thick medical file on top of his polished mahogany desk, he suddenly went completely still.

Short of an extremely rare neurological disease, there was one much more common thing that could be causing Carol's symptoms.

And if this doctor's suspicion was correct, his next phone call would have to be to the Anniston Police Department.

But before he made that call, he would need to examine Carol one more time.

Walking out of of his office in University Hospital in Birmingham, the neurologist quickly marched down the long hospital corridor and then turned left into Carol's room.

A moment later, the neurologist was standing next to Carol's bed.

When he asked Carol to hold her hands out for him to examine, she barely had the strength to lift her arms up off the bed.

Very gently, The neurologist took Carol's hands and lifted them right up to his eyes so he could look at her fingernails.

And immediately, the doctor found what he was looking for.

Running across every single one of Carol's fingernails were what medical journals describe as Aldrich Meese lines, which are horizontal bands of white discoloration.

And these Aldrich Meese lines provided proof positive that what was happening to Carol, and in all likelihood, what had happened to her father, Frank, was neither accidental or natural.

The reason nobody had been able to identify Carol's illness was because she didn't have one.

Instead, Carol was being slowly and systematically poisoned, and the agent that was killing her was arsenic, the only poison capable of causing both Carol's physical deterioration and those telltale lines across each of her fingernail.

After completing his inspection, the neurologist helped Carol lower her arms and hands back down to her sides.

He watched as she closed her eyes, exhausted by the effort.

Then, turning quickly to head back to his office, the doctor could only hope that he had made this discovery in time to save Carol's life.

But even before alerting Carol's other doctors, the first thing the neurologist did when he reached his desk was pick up the phone and call the police.

And by the time that call had ended, Anniston detectives were already scrambling to stop the person who was trying to murder Carol Hilley and to follow up on their suspicion that maybe her father's death was not due to natural causes after all.

Days later, Frank Hilley's body would be exhumed and tested for arsenic poisoning, and by the end of that same month, the police had determined, beyond any doubt, that the same person who had tried to kill Carol had also succeeded in killing her father, Frank.

Three years later, and 1700 miles to the north, police in Keene, New Hampshire were opening the next chapter in the story that had begun back in the late 1970s in Anniston, Alabama.

And keen investigators would soon find out that the same person who had been a suspect in the murder and attempted murder of Frank and Carol, respectively, had also been intimately and closely involved in the lives of two people who had only recently moved to the little town of Marlowe, New Hampshire, Robbie Holman and her sister, Terry Martin.

Working together, police in Anniston, Alabama, and in Keene, New Hampshire, along with agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, would eventually piece together a story of murder and deceit so unbelievable that it would be talked about long after all the headlines had faded from the local newspapers.

According to evidence gathered in that investigation, here is a reconstruction of what really happened to Frank Hilley and his daughter Carol and to John's late wife, Robbie.

Frank Hilley's murder actually began months before his actual death.

That's when his killer began to lace his food and drink with arsenic, first a little bit in his coffee, then when the killer grew impatient, mixing the poison in his food and drink in greater and greater quantities.

By the time Terry had visited Frank in the hospital, pressing his wasted hand between her warm palms, it was too late.

Even if the doctors had known what was wrong with Frank, they would not have been able to reverse the damage that the arsenic had done to his internal organs.

But the killer would have a much harder time killing Carol.

Carol was young and healthy, and as she too began to ingest arsenic in her food, the resulting bouts of nausea and dizziness and stomach pain would result in Terry sending Carol repeatedly back to the hospital.

Still, the murderer was not worried.

Over time, they had become an expert at poisoning their victims.

Children's deaths could be made to look like sudden viral infections.

The deaths of older people could be chalked up to ill health and cancer, with a side helping of poison to speed death along.

While in the hospital, Carol had plenty of visitors, just as she did at home.

And it was easy for her would-be killer to offer Carol treats of food brought in from outside the hospital and even injections of a vitamin mixture, which, they promised, would help to lessen Carol's suffering.

And it wasn't until the young neurologist discovered that Carol was being poisoned, and police and doctors together took a hard look at Carol's list of visitors and began limiting all access to Carol, that Carol's killer knew two things.

They had missed their last opportunity to complete this particular murder, and it was only a matter of days before police uncovered their identity.

And the killer was right on both counts.

On October 25th, 1979, about 20 days after Frank's body was exhumed for testing, Anniston police formally charged the killer in the death of Frank and the attempted murder of Carol.

But then, One month later, the killer was released on bail, and after a short stay in a local motel room, room, the killer vanished, leaving behind a trail of emotional destruction and a charge of first-degree murder.

The killer's disappearance was discovered on November 18th, the same day that Terry's mother-in-law, Carrie, died of cancer.

Three months later, the killer surfaced again, but this time, the killer was going by a new name, Robbie Hannon.

And once Robbie Hannon met the unassuming and trusting John Homan at a bar down in Fort Lauderdale, Florida in November of 1979, Robbie would have what she believed was the perfect cover that would allow her to begin a whole new life.

A new husband who would take her to live far away in a tiny town in New Hampshire where Robbie was sure she would never be found.

But in August of 1982, Robbie had decided she was ready for one more fresh start in life.

That's when Robbie announced to John that she was leaving for Texas, where she could stay with her beloved twin sister, Terry, while Robbie received treatment for her rare and mysterious blood disorder.

But Robbie would not return to New Hampshire because in November of 1982, three months after leaving for treatment, John would get a call from Terry notifying him of Robbie's death.

Terry would then fly to New Hampshire to comfort John, and not long after that, Terry would decide that she wanted to stay in New Hampshire and build a life there with John.

But just two months into that life, the local police in Keene, New Hampshire had already opened an investigation into Terry.

After receiving that tip from the secretaries at Central Screw, the Keene police discovered some major inconsistencies with the story Terry was telling about her sister Robbie's death.

In fact, after reviewing Robbie's obituary, they found that none of the information mentioned in the notice was true in any way.

To police, it was obvious that Robbie's sister Terry, who had provided the details in that obituary, was hiding something, and that something might have to do with Robbie's death.

So, on a cold evening in the middle of January 1983, just after Terry got off work, investigators pulled up in an unmarked black sedan right outside the small publishing company where Terry had recently found employment.

When Terry saw the car and the men inside, her face lost all expression.

She turned to say goodbye to a waiting friend, and then without a word or objection, Terry waited while officers opened the back door of the sedan, and then Terry slipped inside.

When officers immediately began to pepper her with questions, Terry just closed her eyes and put up her slender hand and said, please, can we at least wait until we get to the police station?

Meanwhile, just before 5 p.m.

that same evening, John Homan was sitting in his usual place at Friendly's, waiting for Terry when one of the waitresses told him he had a phone call.

A minute later, John handed the phone back to the curious waitress, his face now as white as a sheet.

Once in the parking lot, John climbed into his pickup truck, he fired up the engine, and then with a squeal of tires, he headed toward the police station.

As soon as John stepped through the door from the parking lot into the precinct, he was met by a detective in a coat and tie, who instructed John to follow him into a small room.

Gesturing at the table and chairs, the detective asked John to please take a seat.

A moment later, and John was glad he was sitting down, because the very first line in the story that this detective was about about to tell him knocked John's entire life completely out of balance.

It would turn out that Terry Martin was not Robbie's twin sister.

It would also turn out that Robbie did not have a twin sister, and Robbie never had a rare blood disease.

But as shocking as that was, it was not nearly as shocking as the revelation that came next.

It would turn out that the two most important women in John Holman's life, Robbie and Terry, were actually the same person.

And the real name of that woman, known first to John as his wife Robbie, and then as his new lover Terry, was Audrey Marie Hilley.

And Audrey Marie Hilley, who just went by Marie, was wanted by police in Anniston, Alabama, on a charge of first-degree murder for the death of her husband Frank and for the attempted murder of her daughter, Carol.

When Marie, aka Terry, had seen the unmarked black police car pull up to the curb outside of her place of work that afternoon, she knew she had finally reached the end of a very long road with no place left for her to hide.

And when police had escorted Marie, aka Terry, into the interrogation room in Brattleboro, she would immediately confess to the litany of crimes and deception that would later shock the entire country.

It would turn out that when Marie was living in Anniston with Frank, she had an insatiable need for money.

While Frank may have spent a few dollars on gambling and drinks with his friends, it was Marie, not Frank, who was the instrument of the family's financial destruction.

With her unending purchases of expensive clothes and cosmetics, and even the purchase of a car, Marie had taken out multiple loans and opened multiple credit cards, often using the good credit of various family members to secure these loans that she could not pay back.

When she realized that Frank simply did not have the money to bail them out, Marie took out a life insurance policy on him and then began administering arsenic in his coffee and food until he sickened and died.

And when Frank's life insurance ran out, Marie took out policies on her two kids, Mike and Carol.

All the reports Marie made to family and friends about being the target of those mysterious and threatening phone calls and minor thefts were actually just aimed at trying to ensnare and control her children and convince Mike that she needed him close to protect her and Carol.

But Mike had been dealing with his mother's deceptions his whole life, so he simply told Marie to take her story about the mysterious stalker to the police while he moved away to start his own life.

With Mike gone, the threats to Marie's safety stopped, and the threats to Carol's safety began ramping up as Marie turned her fatal attention from her son to her 19-year-old daughter.

Once Marie's campaign of poisoning Carol had resulted in Carol's hospitalization, it was easy easy for Marie to keep Carol from getting well by lacing the food that Marie brought to her with arsenic and by injecting Carol with arsenic in the form of those shots containing the so-called special mixture of vitamins.

But before Marie was able to give Carol one final injection of arsenic, the injection that likely would have killed her, the police intercepted Marie at the hospital.

By that time, Marie's checks to cover Carol's life insurance policy had begun to bounce, and police were able to arrest Marie immediately for passing bad checks, a charge that would soon be followed by charges of murder and attempted murder.

But by the time police had all the evidence they needed to convict her for murder, Marie was out on bail, and she felt the net closing around her, and so she slipped out of her motel room and skipped town.

And for the next three years, Marie would escape capture by assuming a variety of false identities, including her star turns as Robbie Homan and Robbie's completely made-up sister, Terry Martin.

And although Marie would only be charged in the death of Frank Hilley, investigators in Anniston were convinced that she had actually committed enough murders to qualify as a serial killer.

After Marie fled from Anniston, Alabama, autopsies were performed on the bodies of Marie's mother, Lucille, and her mother-in-law, Carrie, and those autopsies revealed that both women showed signs of arsenic poisoning, and it may have been that arsenic poisoning that caused the cancer that ultimately killed them.

On January 19th, 1983, one week after her true identity had been revealed and she was taken into custody, authorities transported Marie back to Anniston, Alabama to face trial.

And five months later, on June 8th, 1983, despite her claim that she had never poisoned anyone, Marie was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison.

But there would be one more final twist in the unbelievable story of Marie's life.

Despite everything that her husband John would come to know about Marie, his devotion to her never wavered.

When Marie was transported to Tutweiler Prison in Wetumka, Alabama, John packed up his life in New Hampshire and moved into a hotel in Anniston so he could see her during the prison's weekly visiting hours.

Within a few years of her incarceration, Marie's good behavior had earned her the privilege of unsupervised weekend furlough passes.

And on Thursday, February 19th, 1987, John picked her up at the prison with the plan of spending an entire weekend together.

Two days later, on the morning of Sunday, February 21st, the day she was scheduled to go back to Tutweiler, Marie got dressed and told John that she was going to make a quick trip by herself to the nearby cemetery so she could visit the graves of her parents.

And that was the last time that John would ever see the woman of his dreams.

Instead of coming back to meet John as planned for breakfast, Marie had made one last attempt to start over.

But this time, Marie wasn't heading into an unknown future.

She had decided to return to her long-ago past.

On February 26th, after having been missing for four days, police would get a call from a woman who lived in a house not far from the rural neighborhood in northern Anniston where Marie had grown up.

The caller reported a woman, filthy and shivering from the cold, slumped over the railing of the woman's porch.

When police arrived minutes later, they found Marie barely conscious, but still alive.

The detective called an ambulance, and Marie was rushed to the hospital, but it would be too late.

Marie had been suffering from intense hypothermia, and on her way to the hospital, she had a heart attack and died.

She was 53 years old.

On February 28th, 1987, Audrey Marie Hilley was buried in Anniston, Alabama, in a plot next to her first husband and murder victim, Frank Tilley.

Her funeral was attended not only by John Homan, but by Mike and Carol Hilley, her two children that she had planned to kill.

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