MFM Minisode 432

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We're prohibited by law. 21 you ready? Let's do it.
You're first, right? Yes. Okay.
We're We're starting off with a classic hometown. Okay.
It says college hometown in the subject line. Hi, ladies.
I was listening to the Rewind episode of episode 37 where Karen covered Dorothea Puente, and she called it her college hometown, which reminded me that I have a college hometown. Love it.
I attended the University of South Dakota in the small town of Vermillion, South Dakota for six years.

And then in parentheses, it says, yay for needing a master's degree to do your dream job.

So not much true crime happened during my time there.

But in 1970s Vermillion, two teenage girls went missing and the case went cold for over 40 years.

There's a book called Vanished in Vermillion by Lou Raguse that details this case much better than I can, but I'll do my best.

I'm going to say, cold for over 40 years. There's a book called Vanished in Vermillion by Lou Raguse that details this case much better than I can, but I'll do my best.
On May 29th, 1971, two 17-year-olds, Cheryl Miller and Pamela Jackson, were on their way to an end-of-the-school-year party in the nearby town of Alchester, about 40 minutes away, when they disappeared without a trace. Despite searches of the surrounding land and creek, the girls in their car were never seen again.
The sheriff at the time insisted that the girls were runaways, and the case quickly went cold. They just ran away on the way to a party, as you do.
In nine years, I think you and I have said that phrase a thousand times. It's so frustrating.
It's the past.

We can let it go.

It was reopened in 2004 and a classmate of the girls was charged with their murder in 2007 despite no bodies or car ever being found. Those charges were dropped in 2008 and the investigation went quiet again.
That was until September 2013, when a drought caused the Brule Creek to dry up, and a citizen of Vermillion, who was investigating the case on his own, spotted the tires of a car sticking out of the water. Bro, I'm telling you, half of every missing person's case that a car is involved and someone disappears randomly is them in a fucking body of water.
Right. Also, can you imagine's like i'm taking this up i'm gonna try to figure this out a drought happens and you're like uh it's over here everyone i did it i did i do it i did it it's so huge yeah okay the car in the creek was confirmed to be the 1960 studebaker that the girls were driving it had been submerged upside down in the creek for 42 years sadly the skeletal remains of the two girls were found inside one source described the inside of the car as frozen in time because the girls clothes purses and even a driver's license were found with the remains no foul play was suspected since the remains did not show injuries the theory is that the girls

were unfamiliar with the roads and the new bridge and somehow careened off the road and into the water a sad and unfortunate ending to a four decade long mystery thanks for reading stay sexy and solve cold cases geffen she her man the person who they accused of killing them yeah Having a fucking good day that day.

I mean, but also just like like and that life ruined because that tarnish of like the name the association totally horrible absolutely okay my first one is called two hometowns intertwined because my son knows what's up howdy murderinos i listen to you every day as i drive to school through woods. I have about a half an hour drive where most days I might see one logging truck and that's it.
There have been a couple of days I have to change over to, are you garbage? Because I get too scared, but I can usually turn you back on after school for the drive home. Just we scare them in the morning commute through the woods.
Yeah, that's too intense. Anywho, one day this week I was listening and all of a sudden I remembered the killers we lived right next to and I was like, oh my god, a hometown of my own.
We had moved from Illinois to New Mexico in search of more sun. Our son was going to sixth grade and we found a small house in the town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico.
I've always heard of that town. So interesting.
The place was pretty crappy. Oh no no.
Oh, wait. They mean the house.
And we had to do major cleaning to even feel comfortable sleeping. Our son was not having it right off the bat.
He said there was a killer coming and he was too scared to sleep in his room. We did all kinds of things to make him feel comfortable, then just said heck with it, and he slept in our room.
And it says New Mexico does have flying roaches,

so there are some pretty gross things besides thoughts of a killer on their way. But also a child saying a killer is coming.
Yeah. Can you chill out, dude? It's not that thing of like, oh, there's a little girl in the room with me.
It's like a killer's on the way. Cool.
His talk of a killer continued for several weeks and we were preparing for school to begin. I was starting a new job, things like that.

It was July 4th, 1999, and we were checking out the new area and found out that we'd just moved in to the home of the toy box killer. And the lake outside of town, Elephant Butte, where we thought we would go for a swim, was where this guy had been dumping his victims.
One of the absolute worst fucking stories of all time. Long ago, George and I talked about, look, we're never covering it because it is just simply carnage and disgusting and horrifying.
Why didn't they just fucking tear that house down? So they sold it to a family? A family. And didn't tell them? And the child's like, hey, the vibes are so bad that I'm having psychic experiences.
Totally. If that wasn't disturbing enough, our son continued to talk about the killer.
One day we were watching the news, getting dinner ready, and the news was discussing the railway killer, who at the time was in southern Illinois. Our son said that was him and he was coming.
Oh, shit. We assured him that wasn't going to happen and that he was safe.
I can't remember the timeline, but the railway killer moved down to somewhere in Texas, then over through the Panhandle or Oklahoma, and then was caught, I believe, on I-25 in New Mexico. I-25 runs right down to truth or consequences.
That child knew. Yeah.
I'm going to look that up now that I already wrote what I recall. Okay.
Worse than I remember, I'm good at forgetting disturbing things. I just looked up that the railway killer was arrested in El Paso about two hours from Truth or Consequences on July 12th, 1999.
We moved south of T or C to Caballo and made it about six months in New Mexico, then headed to Montana for normalcy. Ha ha.
Our son loved Montana, and he is still there, safe and sound, and no serial killers. Well, I mean, how do you know? Stay sexy and don't get murdered.
Jackie in the UP of Michigan. Yay! Upper Peninsula.
Wow, Jackie. Yeah.
That was a good one. Sixth graders talking about killers coming? The killers coming.
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Terms apply. This email is kind of totally insane.
A little bit long, but I think worth it. Okay.
Okay okay okay the subject line is my husband's recently resurfaced repressed boy scout memory oh god uh-huh greetings my husband and i were watching bob's burgers and then parentheses it says my favorite anxiety soothing show after finishing the episode where they scare louise by creating own haunted house, legend, such a good episode.

My husband turns the TV off, turns to me and says, I just remembered something scary that happened to me when I was a kid.

So romantic.

Memories, they just like flit around and hang out until some random fucking thing happens or you smell something.

You're like, oh, yeah.

Yeah.

Shit.

I haven't really wanted to be in a relationship that much over the years until I read that line. And then I'm just like, that's what I want for myself.
Someone to go, hey. Hey, I just have a recovered memory I have to tell you about.
It's horrifying. Okay.
Okay. I'm here for it.
This is my love language. Yeah.
Active listening. As he pieced his memory together, I listened on the edge of my seat.
When he finished, I immediately asked his permission to send this in. Here's what he could recollect.
He was about 12 years old in the Boy Scouts and on a camping trip a little outside Grand Rapids, Michigan. He and his troop were getting their camp set up in the woods on top of a ravine, ravine theme, near a river when an older man drove up.
The man whose home was nearby, seemingly seeing the troop arrive, approached the scoutmaster to alert him to some alarming news. Apparently, the older man had seen a man lurking around the woods the night before.
He had called the police and was told to be extremely cautious as there was currently a murderer they were looking for and they believed he may. No.

Of course not. knowing that there may or may not be a murderer nearby.
As night fell and my husband and his peers were settling down in their tents to go to sleep,

they heard what sounded like a gunshot coming from a couple hundred yards away by the ravine.

A few moments passed and a second gunshot sounded.

The scoutmaster finally rallied the troops, telling them to be quiet, and began leading them towards where they had parked the van.

Great. So after multiple gunshots...

Yeah. Now's the time in the dark to go.

Thank you. telling them to be quiet and began leading them towards where they had parked the van.

Great.

So after multiple gunshots. Yeah.

Now's the time in the dark to go.

En route to the van, creeping along the ravine as quietly as possible,

the troops were met with a horrifying scene.

At the bottom of the ravine was a man in a camo jumpsuit,

standing next to a blood-soaked sheet covering a lump of something corpse-like, which was next to a big hole in the ground that he was actively digging. Oh, no.
A shotgun leaned on a tree next to him. The man moved the body into the grave, and the scoutmaster thought it would be a good idea to confront the gun-toting possible murderer.
He shouted, hey, and started going down the ravine. What the fuck? The camel man looked up and moved toward the tree where his shotgun was leaning.
Also on the tree was a gas lantern hanging from a branch. As the man reached for his shotgun, he also turned off the lantern.
Cool. Okay.
This is literally an email from Blumhouse Films. Like, this is insanity.
The scoutmaster had a lantern as well, which dimly illuminated his movements that the boys could see from the top of the ravine. As the Scoutmaster made his way towards the Camelman, a burst of light erupted from the man's shotgun.
The Scoutmaster fell, and his lantern was extinguished. What? The boys, all terrified, began running towards where they thought the van was.
The van was gone. They started running down the road leading away from the campground.
As they were running, they were halted by two freshly butchered cattle heads that were lit on fire swinging from tree branches. You can't.
As the kids were all peeing their pants and preparing for their too-soon deaths, the van appeared.

Driving it was their scoutmaster, and riding shotgun was the camo man. You motherfuckers.
You fucking psychopaths. What? You took it too far.
You took it too far. You, first of all, what are you doing in the Boy Scouts? There's something wrong with you.
Oh, my God. Apparently, this was a super cool, well-thought-out, trauma-informed prank played by two adults who should never be allowed near any children again.
No. Thank you for your podcast.
I'm a social worker. Thank God you're a social worker.
Yeah. Because your man needs you now more than ever.
What the fuck? I hate those two men so much. It's almost like his recovered memory, like the trauma isn't that that happened.
It was that it was they were played a prank on. Like it was that traumatic that they were played that specific prank that he had to forget it.
Then they had to get in the prank. Right.
But then they had to get into a van with two men that would play that prank. Seriously.
And spend the rest of the night or weekend or whatever there. Jesus.
Oh, okay. So thank you for your podcast.
I'm a social worker and my job can be a lot sometimes. I can't tell you how much I appreciate laughing alongside you ladies as I clean my house and do my best to keep going.
Even when things are terrible. Thanks again, Gina.
And then in parentheses, it says, and Dan, my husband who graciously agreed to share his story. Dan.
Thanks, Dan. Dan.
Dan, you deserve an ice cream. That's awful.
That is just, you can't, you shouldn't, and you won't. And please don't.
Please don't. Good Lord, the lawsuits.
I mean. This one's called Trash Kid Girl Scout Edition.
Oh, okay. We're doing some scouting themes.
Nice. Oh, yeah.
That's weird. Hi, friends.
Long-time listener, first-time writer. Growing up, instead of sports or dance for extracurriculars, my sisters and I did Girl Scouts, probably because my mom worked for our local Girl Scout council.
Looking back on it, it was probably the best decision because I was a very clumsy child. One summer when I was eight or nine, I was at a friend's birthday party and was playing on the zip line in their backyard when I let go way too soon and broke five bones in my left arm.
It was the end of May, so this obviously limited the amount of summer activities I could participate in. My mom's creative solution was to put me in an ASL class.

Oh.

Like sign language.

Yes, learn sign language.

That's smart.

And then it says, you know, where you have to use both your hands to sign.

I'm still not sure if she thought that through all the way, but it was air conditioning,

which is a big plus for Houston summers.

I got to sign my own name, learned how to sign Stop in the Name of Love by the Supremes. Nice.
It's fucking pretty great. And some basic vocabulary.
Flash forward to the following spring when it's cookie season and my Girl Scout troop is selling cookies at our local grocery store. Being the youngest of three sisters, I'm just a little competitive.
And my goal was to try to lure in the most customers. So I decided to use my summer activity to my advantage and began signing,

would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies to anyone who walked by? And wouldn't you know it,

a lot more people stopped at the booth instead of walking on by. This is called trash kit.

Yeah. When people started asking me questions about the cookies, I realized I didn't know enough sign language to keep going.
But I also didn't want to blow my cover and start talking. So what did I do? Signed the Supremes on a loop.
They don't fucking know. Right.
They didn't take ASL last summer. Right.
My mom was also my troop leader, but she was helping with the other booth on the second entrance. So she was not wise to my antics.
Wait, sorry. Did she truly an on purpose or was it like, oh, here's an interesting thing I can do and then realized.
It worked. It worked and going.
Yes. So either way, it's bad.
Yes. Either way, trash kid, which I love.
This is a theme that we absolutely have to explore. But when I told her how we were able to sell all of our stock that day, she just laughed and said she was glad I learned something that summer.
I am now a lifetime member of the Girl Scouts and try to support the local troops when I see them out and about selling cookies because it really did help me face my fear of talking to people in public or, you know, signing to them. Thank you for all you do, bringing humor amidst the frustrating climate we find ourselves in this country.
My dog Atlas and I take a walk every day at lunch and I always listen to MFM to have a laugh before I have to go back to work. Stay sexy and support your local Girl Scouts, Stacey.
Stacey. And take a signing class.
Yeah. I mean, you should know how to do that.
I mean, I've always wanted to learn. I have too.
There was actually a TikTok where a woman was just talking about that. And I think there might be an app where you can learn ASL.
That's a good idea. I'm going to look that up.
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The subject line is, museum guests, the good, the bad, and the unforgettable. Hi, MFM crew.
I heard we're sharing stories about guests behaving badly in museums and oh baby, I could go on for days. I worked at a Titanic museum in East Tennessee for eight years.
Why would East Tennessee have a Titanic museum? Guys. Maybe they'll tell us.
Yeah. It was always busy and I can still say Titanic facts at the drop of it.

Did I tell you that my sister said the kids in her class are obsessed with the Titanic because there's a book.

The boys are obsessed because there's a book in the library about it.

And they all fight over the book.

I mean, there's a book in her classroom about it.

And they fight over it, and they talk about it all the time.

Yeah, we were.

That was, like, the scariest thing as a kid.

The Titanic.

The Titanic.

Okay.

We had more than our fair share of stupid people who come through the museum, but my favorite example was this.

I think that's a good question. That was like the scariest thing as a kid.
Yeah. The Titanic.
Okay. We had more than our fair share of stupid people who come through the museum, but my favorite example was this.
I was telling a group of guests one day about the differences between the film and the actual sinking. And I would always start with, I am sorry to tell you the Jack and Rose were not real.
Usually this got a laugh. But one day a woman loudly shouted at me, yes, they are.
I saw them on Oprah. She was not wrong, but she was not right either.
I walked into a gallery just in time to watch two teenage girls hip check a case and a $150,000 life jacket fell off its stand. My Italian grandmother would be proud of the yelling I did that day.
I've watched people literally lick glass cases, called the cops on people stealing from the gift shop, and have had some people literally spit in my face. What? At a museum? At a museum for maritime disasters.
That's insane. However, we were lucky to have some really amazing guest interactions as well.
I met a World War II vet who had coffee in Paris with Ernest Hemingway once. Wow.
world impact, emotional impact. It's a whole speech I worked very hard on as I have very strong memories of that day.
When I was done, a woman came up and hugged me. She told me quietly that she had been in the towers that day and was one of the few people from her floor to survive.
Oh my God. She was happy to think that someday her friends and co-workers stories would be shared with the love and care that we share the Titanic passenger stories.
I think about her frequently, and I hope she's doing well. Sending you ladies and your team lots of love.
Y'all keep me sane most days on my drive to and from work. Stay sexy and watch your kids.
And it says that in all caps, the period. And watch your kids.
XO Stephanie. Oh, my God.
Wow. That had layers had layers it really did and i didn't realize i like scanned it of course because i like it when it's fresh for me too but i thought it was like museum guests in general like i've been a docent here and there whatever but it's like listen to this shit that goes on at the titanic museum in east tennessee east tennessee we barely knew you.
Come on. Okay, my last one I love because it just shows you the breadth of hometown stories that we're accepting at this point and that if you don't have one yet, keep listening because you're going to have one one day.
Yep. This is called, My Dad Accidentally Became a Snail Breeder, which fits, which is now...
Which is welcome. Fitting fitting with the podcast theme.
Hey, MFM crew. Like, you know what I mean? This person may be listening for years and years, and then suddenly it's their time to shine.
And then they were like, you know what I know they'd like? Yeah, like, you know what they just talked about? Breeding snails. Korean skincare.
That's right. Hey, MFM crew, I was listening to episode 470, except no dare, when you mentioned breeding snails for escargot.

Well, do I have a related story for you.

Oh, yeah.

We went into a whole escargot thing.

Yes, because we thought about a great idea would be to breed snails and sell them to restaurants.

Like, that's a great money-making scheme.

If eggs are $17 a carton, let's get those snails up there.

My dad accidentally became a snail breeder, not for escargot, but for aquariums. For as long as I can remember, my dad has had a large 55-gallon fish tank.
That's the most high-maintenance fucking hobby, right? My dad had the one that's about a foot and a half wide, and he was like, that thing's going to kill me. He just couldn't deal with it.
The occupants rotated over the years as fish died and were replaced. About two years ago, my dad bought a small freshwater puffer fish, which ate, you guessed it, snails.
Oh, I didn't know that. Oh, I didn't know that.
My dad bought some snails to feed the puffer fish. It refused to eat and died.
Okay. The snails were left to clean up the tank.
That's the whole story. The end.
Thanks so much, you guys. Don't do it.
The snails were left to clean up the tank by eating the algae. As they got bigger, they started laying eggs.
My sister, who still lives at home, was horrified and threatened to crush the eggs in the night. Despite the threats, the eggs hatched and he had dozens of baby snails.
When they were about an inch wide, he sold them for 50 cents each to the local pet store. Since then, he sells at least 50 snails to the pet store every couple months.
He marks adult females and males he catches in the act and known egg layers so he won't sell them accidentally. This has just become like a fucking...
It's like he's got a cattle ranch, but it's snails. He now has multiple tanks for the snails.
He fucking went. He's just like, this is okay.
And has had over 100 at once before selling them off. Wow.
Fun fact, the snails love green beans. I'm a PhD student in cancer biology and have spent several afternoons doing punnet squares.
Thank you for writing that phonetically. With my dad to figure out how to get snails with purple shells, like how to breed snails with purple shells.
I will often

get a text with a photo of a pet store snail with, will this help with my genetics?

SSDGM and let your dad hatch his snails. A.
Wait, will you go back? There's a sentence that you read

before we got into the purple shell. Fun fact, the snails love green beans.
That is the funnest fact I've ever heard in my life. I think that's the number one fun fact of my life.
When you say I have a fun fact, it should be the equivalent of that. Because so many fun facts are not fun or a fact.
Yeah, exactly. But snails love green beans.
Snails love green beans. That is fun.
You can see it in your head of a snail just like chowing down and loving. Just being like, finally.
Wait, does he eat it like a corn on the cob? Or does he eat it like a sandwich? I think he has to put it on a table because he doesn't have any other way to hold it. Can, can, can, can.
Yeah, okay. Or he gets a chipmunk and a little squirrel to hold it up for him.
Oh, my God. Oh, no.
He tucked a little bib into his shell. We just made a cartoon for the Cartoon Network.
Oh, my God. That's it.
Do you guys have any stories that are weirder? Do you guys have any snails? Did it rain in your town? Let us know how many snails came out on the sidewalk. I want a competition of the weirdest story subject, but it is related because I think the snail story wins right now.
Yeah. Like, this is a weird story.
However, it is related to something you guys have talked about on an episode or on a minisode, wherever. Sure.
Yeah. Right? Yeah.
Or not. Or whatever.
Tell us. We won't know.
Dad snail breeder is a bit free-floating.

Oh, no, that's not true.

It's cargo-based.

We asked about snail breeding.

Like, we talked about snails and how they're bred and, like, it's totally a thing we talked about.

And basically, it's kind of like, hey, we're not experts in terms of, like, no one's got a master's degree in snails in snail breeding.

But we're in it.

We're in this biz.

And do you know more about it?

Tell us.

Do you know what they love to eat?

Green beans.

I do.

We're curious people.

Green beans.

I'm going to pull that one out the next time I'm feeling awkward.

Do it.

Yell it.

Fun fact.

Everyone.

Thanks for listening.

Write to My Favorite Murder at Gmail.

Stay sexy.

And don't get murdered. Goodbye.
Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an Exactly Right production. Our senior producers are Alejandra Keck and Molly Smith.
Our editor is Aristotle Acevedo. This episode was mixed by Liana Squalacci.
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