MFM Minisode 447

This is exactly right.

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Goodbye.

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Goodbye.

Hello and welcome to my favorite murder, the Mini So where we read you your stories.

You love them.

We love them.

Favorite.

Okay, I'll do this one first.

The subject line is, I was a witness in a murder trial, UK hometown story.

It says, hey, ladies, in March 2014, I was 23.

I was out having a few drinks and a dance with my friends in the only bar club.

And then parentheses, it says, Think awful sticky floors and dodgy patrons in our sleepy hometown in Hampshire, southern England.

The club closed, and we wandered down the road to the kebab shop, which is a staple after a night out in the UK.

That's true.

I've seen that

in Glasgow.

Kebabs, love it.

Right?

Sitting outside to eat our greasy treats, we were approached by two brothers in their 20s who had clearly overindulged in the alcohol and were still swigging from a bottle of southern comfort.

Oh, no, no, put it down.

We used to drink southern comfort, and like just thinking about it.

That's just disgusting.

The men seemed friendly at first, but after a while it was clear the situation could turn at any second, which it did.

They squared up to a couple of male friends of mine, being one of only two women there, and a six-foot-tall one at that, I tried my best to diffuse the situation and put myself between them, generally engaging them in small talk and having a laugh with them.

One of them even put his arm around me in a kind of a hug.

Eventually they left us alone and some of the group went off home.

I managed to shepherd the rest of our group towards the taxi rank, where we encountered them again.

They were a bit more aggressive this time, determined to find out where we lived, but we lied and told them a village quite far away.

They left us again.

We all got home without incident.

Fast forward to the next morning, and I woke up to countless messages from friends, social media tags, et cetera, that the police were looking for anyone who had witnessed anyone acting aggressively the previous night.

I contacted the local police station who arranged for their head murder detective to come out.

They call the murder detective.

Love it.

Murder detective to come out and take a statement the following day.

I gave a full statement for the entire evening, recalling as much as I could.

The news breaks that a local shopkeeper had been attacked and beaten to death as he brought in the morning newspapers.

Oh my God.

The police were looking for two brothers in their early 20s.

I was summoned to court, gave evidence on the witness stand for two hours, cross-examined by two defense attorneys, even had to correct them a few times.

They mistook mistook me for my friend, who is six foot four and bald and a male.

I was six foot with pink curly hair.

Oh, my God.

The brothers were sentenced to life.

The victim was 35 years old, and he left behind his pregnant wife and a five-year-old son.

He ran the local news agents and was the most selfless person.

When I left court, his brother-in-law was there.

He smiled at me and mouthed thank you, which made every bit of stress of court completely worth it.

Wow.

Sorry, this was a long one.

I felt felt it needed a proper story.

And then it just assigned Kirstie, your newest murderino.

Kirstie, that was an incredible

email for you being new to this place.

Totally.

You did it perfectly.

And wow, that's a really hard thing to do to go up and testify like that.

And so scary.

Yeah.

Wow.

I have a crimy one, too.

Okay.

This is called Wesley Allen Dodd Serial Killer Hometown.

Have you heard of him?

Yes.

Have we covered him?

I don't think we've covered him, but he's from the Pacific Northwest.

And I'm reading that book, Murderland, right now.

Let's talk about it next time.

Okay, we'll talk about it.

Hi, Murderinos.

I was born and raised in Camas, Washington, a little town just across the Columbia River from Portland, Oregon.

The Pacific Northwest is an absolutely magical, ethereal place with gorgeous mountains and never-ending trees.

All the rain makes it seem like a fairy land of mist and moss and waterfalls, and here's my contribution: and lead and fucking arsenic.

Like, no spoilers.

Spoiler.

Huge spoiler.

Yeah.

It's also a location of choice for some of history's most prolific serial killers, but because all that rain and fog is also pretty dark and creepy and full of lead.

My friend's mom and ghosts and demons.

My friend's mom had a run-in with who she would later recognize as Ted Bundy.

Gary Ridgway, aka the Green River killer, was caught and incarcerated just north of my town.

And my very own hometown serial killer story took place when I was three years old.

Our idyllic downtown had a charming old theater called the Liberty.

We were never allowed to go to the bathroom alone there because of a vague story my mom told us about a boy being kidnapped.

When I was older, my mom finally told me what actually happened.

In 1989, a six-year-old boy named James was grabbed from the Liberty theater bathroom by a man that tried to drag him through the lobby.

The boy was kicking and screaming and fighting like hell, so the man dropped him and ran.

James went back to tell his mom and her boyfriend, the most badass dude ever, William Graves.

When William heard, he said, quote, fire hit my eyes.

And he left the theater to search for the wannabe kidnapper.

Fire hit my eyes.

Yeah, yeah.

I don't know.

I've never heard this.

In a twist of weird fate, he found him just a couple blocks away where his car was stalled.

He played it cool and approached him asking if he needed help.

When the guy got out of the car, William put him in a chokehold and told him if he moved, he'd snap his neck.

Yes.

He walked him all the way back to the theater and tied his hands with a belt.

The police got there and arrested the man who turned out to be Wesley Allen Dodd, a pedophile serial killer who had been terrorizing the area.

This is the best ending of a serial killer story I've ever heard.

This and Nightstalker, like these two are like

my God.

Yeah.

How do we not know this one?

I know.

How have I never heard this?

I can't wait for you to read Murderland.

He had murdered three boys, including two brothers, in some of the most heartbreaking scenarios.

During his trial, he told the court that they needed to sentence him to death or he would kill again.

The things they found in his apartment were absolutely terrifying.

And since he was only 28 years old at the time of his capture, who knows what else he would have done if he hadn't been caught.

I know that there was a really, I wonder if I read this story and then didn't do it at a live show.

This is one that I think we both would have passed on a lot.

Yes.

It's like so horrifying.

Terrible child murder.

Yeah, like we couldn't even get to the ending.

That is good because it's so bad.

He was executed by hanging in 1993.

I don't think you've covered him before.

It'd be a great story to tell.

I spent a lot of time in that theater during my childhood and teen years and never once went into that bathroom alone.

Hell no.

And to this day, I cannot go to the bathroom alone in any movie theater and my kids are never allowed to either.

No.

I've also told them this story many times as an example of exactly what to do if someone tries to kidnap them.

Bite and kick and scream and get the attention of anyone and everyone.

Never let them take you to a second location.

Yeah.

Stay sexy and work on your serial killer chokehold.

Shanna, she, her.

What was that guy's name again?

William Graves.

Fuck yes.

That William's boyfriend.

You know, I bet he was like

what the hell?

Yeah.

I mean, but also what an amazing moment to be like immediately take action and then get to like, there's so many stories like that where it's like, then he beat the shit out of him.

Then suddenly he's going to jail or something like that.

And instead it's like, this is a citizen's arrest.

totally he did the whole thing right i want to read everything about it now

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Okay, well, the only way I can follow that story up is with Tornadoes and a Hero Dog.

The subject line of this email.

Thank God.

Hi, ladies.

It was summer 2008 in the intensely Midwest town where I grew up.

I was nine, my middle sister was seven, and my younger sister was four.

What a group.

What a group.

My mom was at home with us that day, and my dad was working at his office across town.

It was early afternoon, and my sisters and I were playing out on the lawn in the sunshine.

Suddenly, the air began to thicken, and the sky turned the telltale shade of green that every Midwesterner recognizes as a sign that tornadoes are near.

So weird.

It's insane.

And then in parentheses, it says, it's a sixth sense we have.

The sky's green.

It's mostly,

that's the fifth sense.

My mom called us inside and turned on the local news where the news anchor confirmed our suspicions a tornado had been spotted in a nearby town.

The tornado sirens began to blare.

I want to live through this one time.

Why?

I mean, it just would be so scary and heightened.

I'm good.

Yeah.

I don't want to.

I don't know.

It feels like a bungee jumping thing.

Yeah, but you don't know how it's going to end is the problem.

No, and the video of like when a tornado's like this and it's just like, yeah, no.

I told you how I made my cousins watch a tour.

It was like caught on tape tornado.

Oh, yeah.

And we sat around watching it one night.

It was one of the most upsetting things of all time.

It was insane.

Okay, anyway.

The tornado sirens began to blare and we headed down to the basement taking our cat and standard poodle, Mr.

Bubbles, with us.

Meanwhile, my dad was at his office about 15 minutes away.

He and my mom had spoken on the phone and he confirmed that he would be staying in his office's basement to wait out the storm.

After a while, the sirens stopped and we emerged from the basement, only to hear the sirens blast again a few minutes later.

A second tornado had formed, and then in parentheses it says this is actually pretty common.

We went to the basement again, assuming my dad would be doing the same across town.

Little did we know, the man decided he could shoot the gap between the two tornadoes and drive home before the second tornado reached our town.

So, while we were all hunkered down and thinking he was safe too, my dad was actually casually beginning his 15-minute drive home.

Obviously, this did not go well.

Oh my God.

When he talks about it now, he says he got halfway through the journey when he suddenly spotted the tornado.

It was barreling across a cornfield toward his car.

He gunned it, his words, as fast as he could, screeched into our driveway and went to throw open the front door, but it was locked.

What?

Sorry.

It's like out in the middle of the Midwest, cornfields.

Lock the door during a tornado.

Yeah, let's get this.

No tornado bandits.

But it was locked and he had forgotten his house key at the office.

So this left my dad banging on the door, looking over his shoulder at an approaching tornado.

Holy shit.

You're right.

I don't want to do this.

Yeah.

And yelling for anyone to come unlock the door.

And then in parentheses, it says, and probably shitting himself.

Downstairs, we were blissfully unaware of his shouting as we couldn't hear him at all over the wind of the storm.

But Bubbles, our poodle, could.

Bubbles, usually a quiet, gentle fella, sprinted up the basement stairs, barking and howling.

My mom chased after him to wrangle him back into safety to the basement.

But when she got upstairs and she went to grab his collar, she paused.

Out from the shelter of the basement, she could hear my dad pounding on the door.

She ran over to the door, peered out to see on earth who was there during a tornado.

The tornado is

acting all polite.

Totally.

Let me see.

And she saw my dad soaked in rainwater and flung it open.

I'm sure she had a few choice words for him later, but at that moment, everyone was just happy to have the whole family safe at home.

Thank you for everything.

And that goes into us.

And like, Bubbles needs another moment.

Yeah, Bubbles.

That dad would be absolutely dead.

Good boy.

Okay, it says, thanks for everything you do.

My mom's, sisters, aunt, and I are all murderinos.

Keep up the good work.

SSD GM and don't try to outrun a tornado because you probably can't CC.

Oh my God, that's so terrifying.

Terrifying.

So crazy.

Yeah, I'm good.

I'm good on not ever experiencing that.

Yeah, you're right.

I mean, earthquakes are bad enough.

I think it's, you know what it is?

The moment of those tornado siren going off, same as a tsunami, where all of a sudden everyone is totally aligned with like, we're all in this thing together.

Time to go.

What would that be like?

Yeah, I hear you.

In LA, I don't want that to happen because that's just out of my way.

I'm the most important person in the world.

Right.

But in the wide open Midwest, I think that they're a little more polite about

their disasters.

Okay.

Probably not.

This one's about white boy Rick, who I covered recently.

That's right.

Okay.

And just starts, oh my God, you guys.

My husband and I are driving home from the family cabin with earbuds in because obviously we are on the brink and cannot handle our children anymore.

And we started episode 487.

How cute that they listened to a podcast together with telephones.

As soon as Georgia started the story, my husband and I started cracking up.

And my husband said, see, I fucking told you everyone knows white boy Rick.

We live about 30 minutes north of Detroit.

And a few weeks ago, Raul, husband, was at the car wash and came home extra pumped, telling me, you're never going to guess who I talked to.

I look over and there's this guy dressed in all white.

And I thought, holy shit, I think that's white boy Rick.

He walked over to him and said Rick and he said yeah Raul said holy shit white boy Rick what's up

he said they started talking about where they live what Raul does for a living and like basic life stuff Raul left with snowman swag remember that was his nickname that he had on his car and he now sells like but no actual snow for the snowman right and they exchanged phone numbers raul said he texted with him recently probably something I should be aware of that my husband is yucking it up with white boy Rick but whatever, and said he was really cool.

Pretty sure he called everyone he knew when he got home and gave them the same quiz.

Quote, okay, so I just met someone.

Who is the most famous white guy in Detroit?

And every single person responded with, oh, white boy Rick.

Like, duh.

And everyone was equally as pumped as Raul.

We now have a totally inappropriate picture of our five-year-old wearing a snowman pot shot baseball hat and a selfie of Raul and Rick.

Anyway, wanted to to share the random connection.

Love you guys.

Please know you're a badass for what you do for so many reasons.

SSDGM Whitney.

That is so hilarious.

And the title was Met White Boy Rick at a Car Wash.

Sorry, but at the end of your story about White Boy Rick, is he just like regular life now?

He was the longest serving non-violent drug offense in like, you know, history.

And they let him out finally.

And he started, yeah, like a, he sells like a swag.

No.

A profit.

yeah a profit he started a white boy rick profit and i think sell like pot strains too because it's legal now you know yeah god that's ironic i know

that's i love that yeah local lore a local fucking famous person it's pretty crazy if you have any white boy rick interactions we'd love to hear about them

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I just think the process and the journey is so delicious.

That's where all the good stuff is.

You just can't live and die by the end result.

It's scary putting yourself out there, especially when it's something you you really care about and something that you hope is your passion in life and you want people to like it.

Let's get delicious and put ourselves out there.

I'm Simone Boyce, host of The Bright Side, and those were my recent guests, comedian Phoebe Robinson and writer Aaron Foster.

On this show, I'm talking to the brightest minds in entertainment, health, wellness, and pop culture.

And every week, we're going places in our communities, our careers, and ourselves.

It's not about being perfect.

It's about going on a journey and discovering the bright side of becoming.

Few people know that better than soccer legend Ashlyn Harris.

It's the journey, it's the people, it's the failures, it's the heartache, it's the little moment.

These are our moments to laugh, learn, and exhale.

So join me every Monday and let's find the bright side together.

Listen to the bright side on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

My last one is the celebrity interaction.

Oh, great.

And the subject line is, you asked for it, celebrity interaction.

It just gets right into it.

I've tried submitting a classic hometown, a dad story, and now for my third attempt, I'm just going to KISS, keep it simple, stupid, with a traditional celebrity interaction/slash sighting story.

Being born and raised in LA, hey, that's rare.

It was somewhat common to come across celebrities in their natural habitat, but you knew never to approach or bother.

While working at several restaurants, tons of Lakers players came in.

John Corbett and Bo Derek, Rome from Sublime, asked me for some weed.

Steve Wozniak left a fellow server a sheet of connected $2 bills, which basically quadrupled the tip.

So like an uncut sheet of $2 bills,

which now they're so rare.

So rare.

That would be...

Wow.

And even the president of Honduras at some point.

Okay.

While out and about during my 20s, Natalie Portman sat down next to me and then my boyfriend while at dinner and my then boyfriend and then my boyfriend.

She first sat down next to to me.

Giovanni Rubisi was at another location with another boyfriend, and I saw Kevin from the Backstreet Boys at another restaurant.

And again, as a born-and-raised Agelino, you never bother them and you basically act like they don't exist.

You simply nudge the person next to you, and then with your eyes, say, Look.

Yeah, totally.

Oh my God, I did that the other day.

And Vince went, What?

And I was like, What is wrong with you?

There's a reason we're doing eye stuff.

Yeah.

What's that actor from the 90s?

He was in swingers.

Ron Livingston.

Ron Livingston.

His wife is famous too and she's so gorgeous I saw them at Foundaway Star it was very exciting it's very funny that you cite him as being in swingers because he was wasn't he I don't know I don't watch I never watched that movie but the office movie with my state blur

the office movie yeah office space yeah office space yes I should have gone there first well no I mean it's like whatever comes up but your thoughts are wrong that's all I'm trying to tell you

However, there was one occasion where copious amounts of alcohol led me to abandon all protocol when it comes to celebrities, and it remains a favorite story to tell to this day.

My friend and I are standing in line for a pinback concert at the gorgeous L Rey Theater, circa 2009.

Nice.

We're right there.

And between the pre-partying at home and then in the car before going into the venue, we are thoroughly lubed up.

The energy is great, everyone is excited, and these guys start chatting us up in line.

One in particular is paying attention to us when another one of his friends joins in the mild flirtation.

I don't remember my brain making this connection, but all of a sudden, I am petting this man's face.

Full-on petting, stroking my hand down his cheek in a loving way.

Oh no.

He inquires bemusedly, why are you petting me?

And I answered, because you're McLovin.

That's right.

At the height of Super Bad Stardom, Christopher Mintz Plas is standing in line with us and I am petting his fucking face.

Oh my God.

He was such a good sport about it.

And eventually the line started moving and we all went in to see the show.

I believe we waved to them from afar once in the venue, but that was the end of our celebrity encounter.

That's nice.

And then it says, I have since stopped drinking, almost nine years sober.

And while some of my drunker moments make me cringe, some of them just make me laugh.

I mean, that one's beautiful.

That's so funny.

Congratulations.

Also, I would like to shout out my dearest friend, Weenus, who not only introduced me to this podcast, but witnessed this drunken exchange and many more.

And in spite of it all, remains my friend to this day.

Stay sexy and don't pet the celebrities, Aaron C.

Aaron C.

Oh my gosh.

Isn't that nice?

Yeah.

Here's the thing.

I think sometimes like when younger guys get super famous, it's hard for them to handle.

Like in a situation like that, I would absolutely see any famous movie star type person being like, get her away from me.

Totally.

And instead, he's just like, what's going on?

Yeah, why are you petting my face?

It's like, you know the answer.

You know the answer.

You're a McLovin.

It's your face that makes me love you.

Okay, this is my last one.

It sounds like a Karen Kilgariff and Laura Kilgariff story.

Oh, you know, we write in all the time and we just assign different names.

Toddler Grocery Store Adventure.

Hi, MFM crew.

I could never decide if this was a 90s kid slash parent story or a big sister making a little sister do something story.

And I knew it wasn't quite trash parents.

So I was excited when you opened the hometowns to just about anything.

Yes, I know that was a while ago, but I'm pretty great at procrastinating.

Anyway, here we go.

It was summer in the early 90s and I was five years old and my sister was three.

Our mom had gone to the grocery store and asked us multiple times if we wanted to go with her.

We told her we wanted to stay home with our dad who had just started cutting the grass.

She left and of course shortly after we changed our minds.

I decided that we could walk to the grocery store on our own since it was just through the neighborhood and we'd gone that way a million times.

What my five-year-old brain did not understand was that it was a mile away.

Oh.

That's a long way for tiny little five-year-old legs.

Little legs.

Yeah.

So I strapped a bungee cord around my sister to keep her safe, I guess, and we started walking down the street.

Now, if you ask my dad, he will tell you he was cutting the backyard, but I distinctly remember him being in the front as we crept by, waiting to see if he'd catch us.

Yeah.

He did not, and off we went.

I remember it was a long walk, and I forgot about having to navigate the long parking lot of the shopping center that was before the grocery store.

Those suburbia, like

you're coming out, little short, tiny kids.

Five and three.

The most dangerous place for them to be walking.

Anyway, we made it safely to the store and I asked an employee to call my mom to the front of the store.

Luckily, she had told us how to do this in case we ever got lost in the store.

My mom came up front, very confused to find her two toddlers beat red from the summer heat, just standing there with a bungee cord.

The bungee cord like makes it.

It's so good.

It's like, this will do it.

Yeah, yeah.

She quickly checked out and as we were walking out, my dad pulled up to the store.

Apparently, they had recently had a few arguments about taking us places without telling the other, causing panic.

My mom saw his angry face and said, don't even, because the dad thought that she took the kids and didn't tell him.

She said, don't even, pointed at her red faces and said, they walked here.

Meaning, I did not take them without telling you, motherfucker.

You did not see them walk by.

And also, she doesn't have to argue because it's like, take a look at tomato number one.

It's like we

kids

i don't remember the consequences from there but apparently it became a funny story that my mom told her friend down the street after that the neighbor would jokingly call when she was out of milk and ask her mom to send the girls to the store for her That same neighbor begged my sister and I to tell the story in our maid of honor speeches at each other's weddings.

I, of course, obliged.

I told my sister's husband I was handing over the bungee cord to him to take care of my little sister.

Oh, that's so sweet.

That's so sweet.

Yes.

I really thought about bringing a bungee cord to hand to him, but I decided against a bunch of drunk people having access to one of those.

Also, you don't need props.

Your story's good enough.

Totally.

I also questioned my mom recently if we were three and five or almost three and five, since this was in the summer and both our birthdays are in late August, meaning they could have been.

Two and four.

Yep.

She swears we were three and five.

Just like the dad swears he was in the front or the back.

But I'm still skeptical.

I wanted to thank you both for all you do for mental health awareness.

I am a therapist working with men and women who were recently incarcerated.

I have seen a big shift in the amount of these individuals being open to therapy.

I know most of them are not murderinos, but I believe you've played a major role in erasing the stigma around mental health treatment.

And I want to thank you for that.

Oh my God.

I mean, that's just a lovely idea.

That's a lovely.

Yeah, that would be great.

Stay sexy and don't forget your bungee cord when you take your sister for a walk.

Kelly, she, her.

How sweet is that?

It's so good.

Oh my gosh.

It's so good.

And also they made it.

They made it.

Oh my fucking God.

The funny thing too is that there is a movie to me be made between them leaving that house and arriving in that parking lot.

The bungee cord girls.

The bungee cord adventures.

Imagine there was probably a loose dog at some point and a mean male man and of course the sun beating them.

And then they got shrunk and suddenly they were teeny tiny walking through grass.

They got onto the back of a moving truck.

All right.

Thanks you guys for listening to this mini-sode.

This was a good one.

Totally good one.

Yes, please remember that at this point, we are open to your stories in general.

Absolutely.

My favorite murderer Gmail, please send them in.

And please stay sexy.

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 Aceveda.

This episode was mixed by Liana Squalachi.

Email your hometowns to myfavorite murder at gmail.com.

And follow the show on Instagram at MyFavoriteMurder.

Listen to MyFavorite Murder on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And now you can watch us on Exactly Right's YouTube page.

And while you're there, please like and subscribe.

Goodbye.

Bye-bye.