MFM Minisode 426

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Found wherever candy is sold. Hello.
And welcome. To My Favorite Murder.
The mini-sode. Where we read you your stories.
They're many. Would you like to go first? Sure.
I'm not going to read you the title of this one. I'm just going to start telling you.
Okay.

Hey, all. In the late 1970s, 76 or 77, my mother-in-law and father-in-law were on a long drive going down the coast of California when they decided to pull over at night in the Santa Barbara area to sleep in their car.

My father-in-law, a tall man, slept sitting up in the driver's seat while my mother-in-law laid on the front bench with her head on his lap. My mother-in-law woke up to a loud sound.
Disoriented and not able to see because her contact lenses were out, she eventually realized my father-in-law was holding his neck and running around in a state of shock. She started to panic when my father-in-law eventually grabbed her and told her she needed to remain calm and flag someone down for help because, all caps, he had been shot in the neck.
What? Thankfully, he was a Navy vet and he was able to stabilize the situation, according to her. How he was shot in the neck, though? By a semi and told him they needed to get to the hospital because her boyfriend had been shot.

Apparently, the truck driver suspiciously asked, how do I know it wasn't you who did it?

A valid question. Look, valid.

It says, like, okay, man, good question, but clearly they need help. Anywho, he called for help over his radio and my father-in-law ended up surviving.
They never caught the person or even had an idea of who did it. My mother-in-law says she highly doubts it was the Zodiac, but seems pretty Zodiac, wouldn't you say? Was it in California? Fucking Santa Barbara on the coast.
We did the most recent Zodiac documentary about the one guy that they, Arthur Lee Allen. It's like, there's a case in Santa Barbara.
It's where he started, right? It's the early, early. And yeah, it 100% fits.
Well, the story is shocking. We're going to solve the Zodiac on this show.
Let's do it. Through mini-sodes.
Through someone else's work. Yes.
Well, this story is shocking and fascinating to hear. I'd like to add that it has made me realize in the grand scheme of things, when it's your time, it's truly your time.
I never got the honor of meeting my father-in-law because he passed away unexpectedly when my husband was a baby. I like to imagine he was a smart and interesting man who was an amazing dad and husband and would be the best grandpa to our kids today.
Just finding out that my dad has primary colon cancer that has spread to his liver, I'll appreciate all the time I've been able to spend with him, unlike my sweet husband who lost his dad way too soon. Sorry to end on a bummer note.
You two are a safe space and I am eternally grateful for this community you two have created. SSDGM and hug your dad.
Em, she, her. Em, you're so right.
Yeah. And also it's just my, it was my aunt Jean's 90th birthday this weekend.
Wow. And she looks great and is great.
But my cousin gave a little speech, you know, before we, you know, sang her happy birthday. And I never knew this about her.
Her mom died when she was 12. Wow.
And her dad sent her off to live with a family friend. Oh, my God.
And it's just that kind of thing where it's like that primary thing. It's so easy to take your parents for granted and the upbringing you got, especially if you have complaints about it.
Totally. Where you're just kind of like, this old thing.
And it's like, there's a lot of alternatives that are much worse than. Oh, I've said it to Vince a million times.
His mom died when he was very young. Like, I'm sorry I keep complaining about my mom because I'm sure like you didn't get any of those experiences.
Yeah. Yeah.
That's very sweet. Thank you, Em, for that lovely email.
Okay. They wrote out a funny subject line for this email, but then in parentheses at the end it says, may not want to read the subject first.
Okay, read to me after. Let's not forget.
So it says, hello, MFM posse. You guys are great.
My mom attended St. Mary's of Notre Dame in the 60s, and my dad attended Notre Dame.
My mom is a hoot and was a bit of a wild child. She got the nickname in eighth grade, Nuts.
That was her nickname. That's fun.
Just straight up Nuts. Nuts.
Another time, I'll tell you the many pranks that she and her friends pulled on the nuns. However, this time I will tell you something a little less mischievous, but no less awesome that she did.
As she tells it, my mom used to go out drinking with the priests from Notre Dame. Fuck yeah.
She used to love to argue theology and philosophy with them while having a cold brew. I love her.
So good. She had to check in her dorm every few hours, though.
It was strict in those days. You were with the priests, though.
Like, you could stay out all night. They can do whatever they want.
Fuck yeah. The priests would take turns driving her there and back so she could sign in at the dorm.
What is happening? Yeah, because they want to have a good time. It's like some of the few things, kind of lightly sinful things they can do is like drink and hang out and chat.
Love it. And it's very important to like build those relationships.
Yeah, community. Spiritually, yeah.
My mom really wanted to take a theology class with one of the priests she partied with. Problem.
Notre Dame at the time was an all-boys school. This would not be a problem for nuts, though.
She struck up a deal with the priest. She told him she would make him homemade spaghetti and meatballs every week if she could unofficially take his class.
Needless to say, he agreed. Thus, as far as we know, my mom is the first woman to take a class at Notre Dame.
Oh, my God. Unofficially, that is.
Stay sexy and never underestimate the power a homemade spaghetti and meatball dinner has over a priest, Molly, she, her. Those are words to live by.
But also, Nuts doesn't get the credit for being the first woman at fucking Notre Dame. Bullshit.
But we fucking know here on MFM.

And now all of you know, listeners.

I love her.

I love Nuts.

That's what we call chutzpah.

I know she wouldn't, but we call it chutzpah.

And I fucking like it and we should all be like that.

It's so good.

Wait, so we only got the name Nuts?

She didn't tell us her mom's real name.

Did she tell us in the beginning?

No.

I mean, what more do you need?

I guess it is all I need. That is her government name to me now.
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Terms apply. This is called Former Banker Self-Deposit Box Treasures.

Anonymous, please.

Yes, please.

Hello, lovelies.

I'm currently months behind on episodes,

so binge listening.

In episode 441 from August 2024,

you asked for safe deposit box stories.

Then she says,

so I hope this isn't too late,

as if we've ever been like,

stop writing the thing we asked for. Stop it.
That's from six months ago. No, more Matrix, split in the Matrix stories.
Then it says, let's get into it. Never too late.
That's just under the headline of Treasure, which will always be valid. Totally.
All of it. I spent almost 15 years in retail banking.
She wrote in two stories, but they're really long, so I'm just going to read the second one. Okay.
Because it says story two is much more scandalous. Okay.
Here we go. A man rented a safe deposit box at my bank.
I helped him with the rental and he was charming and smooth. Think Miami Vice, total player.
He visited the bank a few times a month, dressed to the nines to visit his safe deposit box. I love like a date that he got dressed up for.
Yeah. The safe deposit box.
And I'm imagining if they said, think Miami Vice, then it was what, like kind of a pink linen suit? Yep. White suit jacket.
Yeah. Tie, all the things.
Yeah. Everything's kind of open and chest hairy.
Yeah. But like so high end.
And tons of coke. Okay.
Well, one day his wife shows up and wants entry to the box. No, ma'am, that is not how this works.
Your marital status does not give you ownership of a safe deposit box. So we turned her away.
That's good to know. I know, right? I didn't know that.
She showed up about once a week, always approaching a different member of the staff. She knows what she's doing.
Trying to access the box and always getting the same response. You aren't an owner of the box.
You cannot access it. After weeks of this, she shows up in a state of desperation, screaming at us that her husband can't open the box because he's in prison awaiting bail and we have to let her in.
We didn't. We couldn't.
That's not how the law works. But now that we had this tidbit about prison, the online sleuthing began.
Keep in mind that this is the late 90s, so the internet is not what it is today. But with a determination and burning through several work hours, we found the arrest records, several counts of manufacturing and selling fraudulent tickets to concerts and sporting events all over the state.
Oh, so random, right? It's so specific. I know.
And then it says in parentheses, this might be a good time to inform the young MFM listeners that in the 90s there was no such thing as a QR code. Cell phones only made phone calls and event tickets were all paper.
I fucking used to go to the Hollywood and Vine ticket store. They like buy paper tickets with cash because they charged you less.
And they don't have a credit card. Never had a credit card.
Right. Exactly.
Or didn't they also sell them Tower Records and stuff? There were certain places you could go to get concert tickets. They had a little machine.
Totally. But you had to go to them.
Yeah. Oh, my God.
That's how it all was back then. Everything was harder.
Tickets were physical and fraud was much easier than it is today. Fast forward a few months, multiple vehicles pull into the bank parking lot at the same time.
This is just like the movies. And here comes the wife again, this time being escorted by local sheriffs, state police, and no less than five U.S.
Marshals. She's in handcuffs and I've served a warrant for access to the safe deposit box.
Everyone threw all their hopes. And then the warrant was valid and required the bank to allow U.S.
Marshals to access and inventory the box. A locksmith was called.
I observed the drilling of the lock and then handed over the closed box to the U.S. Marshals and left the privacy room.
Well, sweet Jesus, curiosity was killing the cat when a U.S. Marshal came out of the privacy booth and said to me, here's the inventory list.
I need you to make three copies, please. You better believe I went to the copy room to make those copies and absolutely took a quick peek at the inventory.
I mean, what human being would not? The fact that they didn't make an extra copy for themselves is like, that means you're a saint. You know what I mean? No, what do you mean? I would have made myself an extra copy to take and put pocket, you know, but all none of us did was take a peek.
Do you think you would do that because you're like, you won't tell me to not read this thing. I'll keep it for myself.
Yeah. Like I need this for later.
I need to show my friends. I need this for my personal records.
Right. Yeah.
You can't take a screenshot of it because phones were just for phone calls. But also I think this was a time where it was easier to keep all that separate where it's like if you're the person at the bank, you're like, sorry, I can't ever put my eyes toward your very private thing.
Right. Where it's like, that was their one and only chance to find out.
Totally. Yeah.
Absolutely. Because, yeah, you can't get into, like, they don't have the keys.
The inventory is tens of thousands of dollars in cash and hundreds of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies. As it turns out, my customer was part of a large-scale operation across state lines and one of multiple defendants tried in a RICO case.
My customer, what's RICO again? Racketeer-influenced and corrupt organizations. So it's mafia stuff.
Oh, it's like mafia stuff. Yeah.
Cool. Okay.
My customer, Charming and Smooth, was responsible for cleaning the dirty cash by converting it to

expensive gems and stones and then selling those gems, stones, to a different jeweler to get clean

cash in return. But you'd have to know the jeweler that would be just dealing in gems like that.

It's not just any place you go into. I'm sure there's enough around town.

Think so? Yeah. Because I think we should get into this.
Sounds like a great business for us. I followed the case in the news for a few years and even all these years later, my palms get sweaty thinking about the day a crew of U.S.
Marshals rolled in and the criminal who'd been utilizing our bank to stash his dirty earnings. Hope this story makes the cut for a mini-sod sometime.
Stay sexy and if you're thinking about committing fraud, just don't. Anonymous Murderino.
Anonymous, you made it. You made the cut.
Your name can't be involved, but we know at heart. Yeah, we know who you are.
God. It stresses me out because all I can do is focus on the fact that you did all this work to make these fake tickets and rip these people off.
You made your money. You had to turn it into jewels.
Yeah. How? Like, where's those contacts? And then you have to sell those jewels.
Totally. But I love the wife who just kept trying to get rid of all the evidence.
She's got to get those jewels or like line her pockets with them. Totally move the fuck out of town.
I love learning that it's just the person who. Yeah.
Like safe deposit box. The concept of them were set up for people to have secrets that no one finds out about.
Illegal secrets too because like you can't put this in a bank. You can't have this at home.
You can have it in the bank.

It's just not deposited.

But it's safe.

It's a secret in a bank.

Where did safety deposit boxes come from?

I ask myself as I decide to do this as an episode.

Nazis.

Nazis.

Promise it was Nazis.

My dad saw the fucking movie The Woman in Gold,

which is starring Helen Mirren,

about that Klimt portrait that the Nazis stole from the Jewish family,

and she had to go fight for it.

He talked about it all weekend.

I haven't seen it.

I'll watch it.

Well, it's good.

But I mean, all of that stuff where it's just like.

Oh, yeah, completely.

Okay.

The subject line of this is fellow finders unite.

And then in parentheses, it says, hold on.

Why isn't mine money?

Oh, got it.

What does it mean?

People who just find shit all the time.

And why isn't something I find all the time money? I don't know what I'm guessing. I think you're right.
Because I've read this. Hello, fuck word, murder, mystery hosts.
My eternal compliments to the dad who coined this, that alternative podcast name. It's my favorite piece of historical fiction.
I love it. Yeah.
Ours too. We just did a rewind episode with that when that first came out.
Okay. So it says, I just wanted to say to the recent listener who wrote in about their Chicago street money finding talent.
Oh yeah. Girl, what? You too? And then a parentheses, it says, girl is meant to be gender neutral here for exclamation purposes.
So it says, I also have a weird knack for finding lost things. Not cash money, unfortunately.

So hats off to that incredible luck.

But I have found the following.

Oh my God, was this written by a crow?

And it's just going to be a bunch of like weird shiny junk.

Yes, things listing out.

A soda can tab.

A quarter.

I gave them all to a little girl.

A piece of corn.

Okay, so it says, I have found so many sets of lost keys. My own keys when they're lost? Almost never.
But keys strangers have lost at the park, on a hiking trail, in parking lots at grocery stores, or on a riverbed. Absolutely yes.
Sometimes even if I'm not looking. I just happen across them and see someone looking nearby, and I get to be a hero for a few minutes.

That's hilarious. My favorite key finding story happened about three years ago when I went to the dog park a bit late one day after work, and while leaving as the sky had just fully darkened, I noticed someone frantically looking around with a flashlight.
They seemed really stressed, so I asked if everything was okay. This person was on the verge of tears and told me they had been looking for their keys for almost two hours and they were already late for work.
No joke, I found their keys in less than a minute. Oh my god, I love that skill.
It's such a good skill. Almost immediately after I started to look, they were just right in front of me and I was drawn to them right away, even in the dark.
Wow. We both were, and they insisted that they had looked there several times before already.
Two, I also find random lost items that are still in perfect condition all the time, like Burt's Bees chapstick with the plastic wrap still on. I still wouldn't touch it.
Yeah, because why did the person just go like, no thanks? Unopened candy, mints, or packages of gum, perfectly intact glasses and jewelry. And once again, a favorite recent story.
Just last week, I found an unopened package of weed from a local dispensary on the ground, still fully sealed and childproofed. Three, credit cards, debit cards, and IDs.
At least four times a year, I find these items someone lost in my path. I try to return them when I can, but I can't always find the person.
Once I even found what looked to be someone's entire wallet, everything but cash, dumped out on the ground. I can't wait to see what I find next, and I would love to know why isn't it also street cash.
I guess I'll have to take my random weed gifts and acts of kindness finding strangers keys for now. Stay sexy and keep your eyes on the potential prizes in front of you.
Kendra. That's amazing.
Isn't that so good? That reminds me of, so you know, I'm obsessed with mud larking, which is like finding stuff in the Thames and all that stuff. And the thing I read about people who are really good at it, at just finding treasure among trash, is that our brains immediately want to spot man-made shapes.
So not natural shapes. It just makes sense that your brain just goes to a button among rocks because it's circular and it's not supposed to be in nature.
So if you just kind of think like that, that you're looking for not natural shapes, your brain will find whatever's there. Yeah.
Isn't that cool? Yes, for sure. I follow a couple mudlarking accounts on TikTok, and there's a woman who does it, and I'm almost positive she does this on purpose, and it's so brilliant, because she puts this thing down into the water so the camera is clear.
So you can see from her point of view, looking at the river, right? You've seen it. I love her, yes.
So it's almost like, I was looking here and this is interesting. Do you see it? Yes.
But then there's always something when she goes and picks up, say, like the button. Yeah.
There's always something else in the shot where I'm like, why aren't you touching that over there? And I think that's potentially intentional so that it is a little more addictive. Maybe.
Or it's my suggestion. Hide a little

bird in there. A little piece of like china.
Yeah. That's my favorite.
My favorite one was the bird that time. Yeah.
Someone found like it was a bird whistle or something. Yeah.
I know what you're talking about. Yeah.
That's amazing. So good.
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This card is issued by the Bancorp Bank NA pursuant to license by MasterCard International Inc. Okay, here's my last one.
I'm not going to read you the title. I'm going to read you the title.
Is it Moron? Doesn't make any sense. Hello.
I've been listening since I came out of the womb. Maybe a bit dramatic, but it really feels like that.
I love you guys so much and sometimes forget how much the podcast has grown. I recently had a job interview and someone I met told me they were from Petaluma.
I said, oh my God, this tiny underground podcast that I listened to, one of the hosts are from there.

And she said, yeah, people always say that

when I tell them where I'm from.

Imagine my surprise.

Anyway, I never intended to write in,

but I just listened to Minisode 423

and was inspired by the story about the falling priest.

Remember at the funeral and the priest fucking fell face down, just like a timber, and just made everyone at the funeral laugh. Yes.
Okay. Yes, but also, we've done so many of these.
It's kind of like, yep, there's somewhere in there. Totally.
Yeah. So that one was about laughing, needing a good laugh at a horrible time.
Right. And how important that is.
And so then it goes on to say, in 2017, I had spinal fusion surgery for my scoliosis and being 16 at the time, I was treated at the children's hospital. In the waiting room full of kids much sicker than I and loads of worrying parents, we anxiously wait to hear our last name so we can go over final paperwork before the surgery.
One of the nurses calls out for a family saying, is it moron?

That annoyed mom says, it's Monroe. And then there's an emoji, like just this flat line of like,

emoji. In a way that sounded like that mistake happens pretty frequently.

Yeah. In a completely silent room, my parents and I lock eyes and burst out laughing.
A nearby family joined in and we shared a much needed cackle before hours of surgery slash waiting. This is a classic story in our family and you guys feel like family so I wanted to share.
Stay sexy and Don't yell moron in a room full of sick kids.

Emma.

Is it moron?

Not moron.

Our name isn't like Dan and Jean moron.

And we're here with our child.

What are you talking about?

There's nobody named moron.

Probably.

I think they would change their name.

I think so too.

Okay.

Here's my last one. The subject line is bumper boats trauma, lighthearted.
Hi, I've been listening since 2016. Love you all.
Wow. I haven't.
When I was eight, my family went to the fair. My older siblings and I really wanted to go on the bumper boat attraction.
Basically, bumper cars on water. Have you ever done that?

No, but it doesn't sound crazy.

Right.

Seems familiar, but I haven't done it.

Each boat was equipped with rubber edges so you could crash into other boats without causing damage.

Sure.

Great.

When we got in line, we could see the rule said ages eight and up could ride alone.

I was elated.

I felt so grown up, ready to captain my own tiny vessel.

I remember seeing a younger boy riding with his mom and thinking, ha, he's not even old enough to drive his own boat. When they released us, I realized the steering was a lot harder than I'd imagined.
The wheel was very sensitive. As everyone else was having fun driving around, I was desperately trying to control my boat.
I was zigzagging all over the place. When the whistle blew to end the ride, everyone smoothly navigated back to the dock.
Meanwhile, I couldn't figure out how to steer my boat that way. Full panic set in.
The pool itself was not very big, but to me, it felt like the ocean. I thought to myself, I'll never make it back to the dock.
Every time I came close to the dock and the ride attendant tried to catch me, I'd unintentionally zip away. Oh, no.
I'm not doing it on purpose. This went on so long that the attendant started to put waders on to get into the water to grab me.
Oh, and you're probably crying. Just humiliating.
Oh, so humiliating. Just trying to have fun at the fucking fair.
However, before he stepped into the pool, an older gentleman who was standing near the edge caught my boat and was able to guide me to the dock. Oh, God.
Relief flooded me as I burst into tears. Yeah.
Meanwhile, my mom was laughing hysterically as she watched the whole thing unfold from the sidelines. She had to physically turn away so I couldn't see how hard she was laughing at my terror.
It's like the littlest bit of joy she's had in so fucking long. And also it's controlled danger, right? It's like, sure, you're crying, but nothing's going to happen from this.
This is so hilarious. Once I was back on dry land, she took me in her arms and we decided that was enough riots for the day.
Yeah, let's go home. Since then, I've always wondered if they raised the minimum wage after that incident.
I'll never know. SSDGM and always have a pair of waiters on hand.
Kelsey. Being a kid sucks so bad.
It's a series of seeing other kids doing things, going, here's what I'm going to do when I do that thing. You go to do that thing.
Not only do none of those things happen, but a series of other totally unprepared for and unimagined things happen. And then you're like, oh, that's how I lived my childhood.
Humiliation after humiliation. Constant.
It's why I don't want kids mainly, because I don't want to live through someone else's horrible fucking childhood again.

For real.

For real.

I can't watch someone I love get bullied.

No.

Or humiliated.

Like, I just can't do it.

I'm done.

I'm done with that part of life.

Or hold their hand through it and be like, it'll be okay because it's like, it's not okay.

It won't.

By the grace of God, it's fine, right?

You and I are fine.

But like.

The good news is nothing's okay.

That's true.

So in a way, we do have to keep on remembering.

And like you're saying, we just have to keep remembering and reminding each other always.

Yeah.

This has been every single person. It's just a different noun.
It's not the bumper boats. It's just a different.
It's pants. Mine is pants.
Oh. It's just always something.
Yours is tampons being thrown across. Mine's the tampon suitcase.
Yeah. It's also the day I watched a girl who was, I think, in fifth or sixth grade walk in because it was free dress day.
I think I've told you this a thousand times. But this one killed my soul because I was in eighth grade.
And, of course, I went to Catholic school, so it was first through eighth. So by the time you're in eighth grade, you're like, I'm fine, and I'm just trying to prepare for high school.
It was free dress day, which we got, like, I think once a month. So it was very special.
Everyone wore their best, and it was a big deal. This little girl who was a lovely girl, and I think she was only in, like, the fourth or fifth grade.
And also our, sorry, I tried to make this fast, but our playground, because it was Catholic school, it was, like, part gravel, part unpaved, like, bad for children to play on. Literally a 45 45 grade downhill.
Like you weren't allowed to run because you would start and you wouldn't be able to stop. Blah, blah, blah.
I'd never noticed this before, but in the entrance, there was almost like a little lip of like asphalts where they kept having to pave over it because this is where all the kids walked in. But then it was downhill started.
And this little girl walked in and immediately slipped and fell because she had brand new like mary janes on yeah or hard shoes that she had not scuffed and she got up and basically fell down like five times in front of the eighth grade girls and by the end i mean it was multiple four or five by the end me and my friend almost went together and then she finally made it up and like ran away oh my god but it was one of those things where i was watching going you'll always remember this forget this moment you'll you'll always scuff your shoes yeah this has changed your trajectory absolutely it's the kid who pisses themselves or calls calls the teacher mom on accident in third grade you'll never not be that kid and you'll hold it like you think that's the reason people don't want to talk to you in a bar or something. But everyone's fine.
Everyone has that. Everyone's barfed and pissed and called

people mom that they're not supposed to call mom. We're going to be okay.
We're going to be okay.

We're going to be okay. Stay sexy.
And don't get murdered. Goodbye.

Elvis, do you want a cookie? Ah!

This has been an Exactly Right production. Our senior producer

is Alejandra Keck. Our editor

is Aristotle Acevedo.

This episode was mixed by Liana Squalachi.

Email your hometowns to

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Goodbye!

I feel so alone.

I'm embarrassed to talk about it.

How can I help my kid if I can't help myself?

I can't remember when I wasn't stressed.

I don't want to go inside. When you feel overwhelmed by your thoughts and emotions, it's OK to get help.
You are not alone. Cal Hope is here for you with free, safe and confidential mental health resources for youth, young adults, families and you.
Find support now at Cal Hope dot org. OK, so we all need to get away from the world sometimes.
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