This is exactly right. Hello and welcome to my favorite murder. I feel like we're starting the Minnies that I feel like we're starting to draw hello out, like the longer we're in quarantine, the longer the lowest. It's like you can hear it deep down.

Isn't this still happening underneath all?

Oh, we're we're filming this for the fan cult. We put up some recordings on the fan cult, and I just realized that I need to put my computer a little higher. So it's not just full chin under underground view.

Yeah, you you have to do what I do and just like stack it up on any dictionary and thesaurus as you can find. I wanted to be like a top.

I'm staring up at a tall, really tall person, you know, I want to lay on my back and hang it by chance from the ceiling. It kind of like a modern art way.

So this is where we read you your story. Do you know what this is?

Oh, it's been a week ago first. Sure. I'd also just like to say that I recently covered my roots in this color hair that my hair is now that you can see because you're doing video is the color hair I had as a child. It's like a beautiful dark brown that's got nice highlights in it.

It just kind of. Yeah, just medium brown. I like it. Here's number one high from across the pond or as we say in Yorkshire up today, the Yorkshire Ripper, Peter Peter Sutcliffe died of coronavirus, no less.

Oh, did you hear that? Oh yeah. The Yorkshire Ripper died in jail of coronavirus. Great. So so I thought it would be a good time to share my connection to the case. I'm from Leeds in Yorkshire, England. My mum's side of the family is from Binggeli, West Yorkshire.

Mr Bingley, this is all very this is kind of like me reading places in Narnia and then.

But it's real. It's real, I assure you. And she grew up there one street over from the Sutcliff family. That is the Yorkshire Ripper's family. My uncle was and still is good friends with Peter, sockless brother, and once visited his house, which he remembers as being a long walk over the moors where Peter gave them spam to eat a disgusting food suitable for a disgusting man. My uncle has told me that the Sutcliffe family are lovely people and couldn't be further removed from the horrible crimes Peter committed.

Just another example of the the family, the murderer's family being victims, too, right. On this day, I'd like to take some time not to focus on the awful serial killer, but an inspiring event which came about because of both his crimes and police mishandling of the case. At the time, both the police and the press zeroed in on the fact that Sutcliff was killing sex workers. They investigated and presented the case as only sex worker related, despite the fact that Sutcliffe murdered women who were not.

Police also advised women to, quote, stay indoors after dark, blaming women and the victims of these crimes for simply living their lives. As a result, sixty women marched in Leeds carrying signs that read things like no curfew for women, curfew for men. Yes, right. Thus began the reclaim the Night protests, which continue to this day across the UK, marching against victim blaming and seeking to make public spaces safe for women even at night. I'm proud to be from Leeds, where women refuse to be blamed by sexist dickheads and stood up for their rights and the rights of Sutcliffe's victims right now.

And that's moving to me. That got so I mean.

I mean, amazing. What an amazing thing to do right now.

I go to university in Sheffield and the university accommodation is in the same area where Sutcliffe was finally apprehended. So I seem to follow this case wherever I go. It reminds me that there are dangerous people out there, but more importantly, that a crime is never the victim's fault and you have the right to fight back.

I write for the university's branch of the newspaper, the tab and the tab for keeping tabs on you. Wink wink emoji. We got you this. Clearly, I haven't like been around other people for a while, so everything's really exciting because emails, exciting words, noun's all of it and wrote an article about Sutcliffe's death today. Check out if you fancy it. We'll go over to the that the tab dot edu. I imagine you came from in the article.

I really wanted to remember the victims of above all else. All that said, no woman should ever be blamed for her own murder and you should never mess with Yorkshire folk. Ekso is awesome job.

This one's called. I'm Not Gonna Tell You. OK, mornin y'all. Wait no mornin all y'all. Oh, cats, dogs and mustaches included. I absolutely love your podcast and found many other murderousness from a little call your dad. You're in a cult sticker. I have. My water bottle, so thank you for helping my socially awkward ass make friends nice. Anyways, it's murder storytime. So I work for a Metropolitan Police Department in the Midwest and my job is called an ID processor.

We are civilian workers and essentially we process a.k.a. fingerprints and mug shots, people that are usually from traffic court or are parolees probation NIRS. Well, it isn't as interesting as the detention deputies processing the arrestees from the street. We occasionally have some interesting people come and see us. One day during the shutdown, we were limited staffing and two officers came down with a gentleman that wouldn't identify himself. Usually when this happens, the person is shitfaced drunk and frankly doesn't even know their names themselves.

However, this was not the case in this situation. It was a very calm man with a charming smile. And yet every instinct in my body was screaming at me to get the absolute fuck away from this guy who I knew that I was safe. There were two officers and this guy had handcuffs and I broke out in a cold sweat and my fight or flight instincts were in full force. I kept my shit together and fingerprinted his two thumbs and pointed fingers and then went to see if there would be any results on the fast ID machine there was.

And this fucker's name was in bold red, something I had never seen before. The officers and I made eye contact and I told him I was going to do a little bit more research to make sure that their results were accurate. When I went to look up his name on our warrant database, this fucker was wanted and then all caps in four motherfucking states for killing families.

Oh, my God.

I quickly printed the results out and told the officers to call for some backup, a.k.a. calling in our search team, which makes sure shit doesn't hit the fan, that CRT, the CERT officers came and put this bastard in a, quote, three piece suit, which is the crass name for the handcuffs that are around the feet, waist and hands. He was then taken away and I last I heard, he was being transferred to Minnesota and is awaiting trial there before having to go to the other three states to stand trial as well.

Needless to say, I quickly called my sister also a murderer now and told her everything where she proceeded to also flip the fuck out. I can't say I would recommend having to stand so close to it. I would say pure evil feels like. But I would say that it was an experience that my morbid and twisted self will never forget. Thanks again for all the amazing work you do. Just remember to stay sexy and always wash your hands after fingerprinting a serial killer, eh?

Also, that level of evil. It's like I feel like and I, I say this knowing you can't discern one horrifying act, intentional act murder from another, but something about killing families it like puts you straight into like it's like man hunter. Yeah.

You know, like the prequel to Silence of the Lambs type of stuff where it's just like you're you're a family annihilator and it's also like the killing being a family killer and then also coming in, smiling, acting casual and refusing to give your name. And like you are playing, you are this person.

You are void of empathy or, you know, any kind of human fucking, which is what was sending their senses crazy, because I think that the idea that it all came down to instinct like that, you're acting like a normal person and it's not fucking working somewhere deep in my animal brain.

I mean, I really that's the kind of thing. Would you want to experience that first hand, do you think?

I don't want to say yes, because I'm like, let's do it. But I think it would be really interesting, you know what I mean?

Just I would like to see what the difference is. Yeah. And I would like to go oh, I've had I had that feeling about what's cool about it is that I'm sure we actually had those experiences, but she got to immediately have hers confirmed. So like, we'll never have ours confirmed.

We'll just be like, let's get that guy's kriti. We need a fast ID machine. Yeah. See you put that on the list of stuff to get puts it on the exactly like a card credit card.

OK, and then we're getting used to this one is about a Survivor story and a fourteen year old hero. Great. More credit to the 14 year olds and the tech talkers. I actually know what's left of there's notes left over from our last episode.

And there was a thing I wrote that said Don't shit on Tic-Tac, because I think I said something like, I don't understand it or to pay for it.

Right. But I should I should have probably qualified it to the millions and millions of passionate Tick-Tock users that that's all on me. I'm sure doing great things and and being creative and amazing and awesome. And where the old is going like that, they entirely are, because, as I said, Nora sends me Tick-Tock she likes all the time. And I sent you that one, the cap that just skateboarded across the room and the. Wilkos did, he just did that on his own?

That was insane. I was amazed. The other person just perfectly caught. It will send it to you and that's right up your alley. OK, so this starts. Hello. I love the show. Yada, yada, yada. Let's get to it in twenty thirteen. I was a freshman at Central Michigan University in Mount Pleasant, Michigan. The town of Mount Pleasant was a small town in invaded by college students, very infrequently plagued by crime.

It felt so safe that I often walked home alone in the dark. On campus, freshmen get the short end of the stick when it comes to class times. Right after we wouldn't know. Right after Christmas break, I got my very first central alert and abduction on campus. My roommates and I were flooded with terror, but also imagining the terror of the person who has taken around nine p.m. on January 16th. Twenty thirteen, a young woman, her name was not released, was leaving the Student Activity Center, a.k.a. the gym, when she was approached by a man in his thirties.

He showed her a gun and forced her into her vehicle. He said to her that he had been waiting for the perfect person to grab and she was the unlucky one. He drove her to his mother's house not far from campus. There, he bound her and raped her. After this heinous act, he forced the woman back into her vehicle and told her that he was going to kill her. He brought with him two canisters of gas. Now, here's the bad ass part.

As they drove down the road, the woman was able to get the door unlocked and she jumped out of the moving vehicle. Oh, my God. She sprinted to the nearest house and began pounding on the door. A fourteen year old boy babysitting his younger siblings answered the door, let her in and told her to hide in the closet. He then locked the door, grabbed the phone and joined her in the closet with his siblings as they called nine one one.

Her abductor ran up to the house, realized it was locked and proceeded to pour the gasoline all over the exterior of the house and then lit it on fire. As the police arrived, the suspect took off in the stolen vehicle after an hours long police chase. It ended on foot in a city hundreds of miles away with a with police, with a police assisted suicide, though the police killed them right. Soon before that, he posted on Facebook.

Well, folks, I'm about to get shot. Peace.

What have we not heard of this? That's I don't know. OK, so it says the rapist was Eric Ramsey, a recently released felon. He ended his life, but the woman and those young children saved theirs. Side note, soon after this, my sister was leaving the that's the Sassi, which is that the gym. And someone shouted to her. She audibly screamed and started running.

Turns out it was just someone making sure she was getting to her do just by screaming better. Better safe than sorry. That idea was just the second you hear any noise behind you, you just look and take off what it is. I just pictured them actually just letting out a loud scream, not like, are you OK? You know, it's just.

Yeah, yeah, exactly. Anyways, thanks for normalizing therapy and being such a great space for me during this difficult time. Stay sexy and jump out of a car if you have to to not get murdered. Karlie Wow. Unbelievable story.

Sending that that idea that so someone who the instinct that when that person escaped, the instinct that the fact that the kidnapper had not to oh shit, I'm caught take off but to fucking keep coming.

And they didn't know that the boy was home alone. There could have been adults in there. There could have been, you know, people with a gun in there. They didn't care like that. That to me is just like I don't you know, I have no care about what happens to me. So there's just not a thought in my mind.

Well, it's very animalistic. Yeah. It's like it's pursuing your prey and trying to get it no matter what and not caring. Yeah. Yeah. What the reality of it is.

Wow. That's terrifying. It's and what a brave fourteen year old boy. I wish their name was published because that's badass to not to not panic, to not shut down, to not I don't know what I would have done but there's a 50 percent chance as a fourteen year old I would have been like, you can't come in now. You wouldn't know. Thank you.

That's all I wanted you to say. You might have been like, what's the number for nine one one? But I don't think you would've been like, no, we get out of here, I'll let you in.

But you have to hit me to this one thing I've heard about this emergency line. You can call where the police will come super fast here at the end.

OK, OK, here's one help solve my roller derby friend's murder. Hi, MFM crew. I started listening to your podcast during quarantine and your voices have helped me feel like I have a social life. My hometown murder is the unsolved murder of my friend and teammate Kobe.

Well, then it's Kobe. I'm from Indianapolis, Indiana. You may know of us for the Indianapolis 500 or AHAM, our former governor, Mike Pence, and then it says, sorry about that.

I played roller derby for years and I met Kobe in twenty seventeen when he joined our men's roller derby team, the Race City Rebels Roller Derby is a tight knit community. You automatically become friends with anyone sharing in an interest in the sport. Kobe was sweet and kind and so excited to play. On the night of May 1st, 2017, Kobe went to a derby practice and then stopped by the grocery store on his way home. Shortly after 10 p.m., he sat in his car in the parking lot of Southport crossing apartments and texted a friend.

That is the last anyone heard from him.

Just before noon the next day, police were called to the apartment complex. A group of young fishermen had found a body near the creek behind one of the apartment buildings. It would later be identified as Kobe. He had been shot multiple times and was lying face down near the creek. In the parking lot outside of Kobe's car, police found a bag of groceries and a gym bag. His gym bag appeared untouched, but his cell phone and the ring he wore was missing.

Police canvassed the area and found a few neighbors who heard gunshots, but no one saw what happened. The theory is that Kobe was walking towards his apartment when he was confronted by a stranger. He ran around the building to try to get away when he was fatally shot. There was a brief period where a few people called in tips, but since then, the case has gone cold. Everyone who knew him misses him terribly. We wear a 47, his jersey number on our helmets, our bodies during games to honor his memory, stay sexy.

And if you know of anything related to Kobe's murder, please call Crime Stoppers of central Indiana Calli. Yes, that's Indianapolis, Indiana. And it happened in twenty seventeen. Oh, man. Now so awful.

Like just long enough to be a cold case, but it's still so recent. Yeah. It sounds like someone tried to rob him and he was like, fuck this, I'm getting away. They murdered.

I mean, no, no, it's one of those things or it's like those those little tips that you don't think mean anything. Like if you live in an apartment building and you notice something weird around that time, too, and maybe there was, you know, or if you know, I wonder if there's a website somewhere like where what that ring looks like that got stolen, if it's showed up anywhere, that that's completely from Golden State killer stuff.

You know what I mean? Like the way the way Web sleuths do it. Totally. Totally.

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OK, this my last one is also an update subject line of this one is personal connection to the UAH shooting. Hello. I've been meaning to send this email for months, but when I saw today's episode was about my hometown murder, I figured it was finally time I tell you my personal connection to this tragedy. I thought I was done with procrastination when I graduated college this May, but, you know, shrug emoji. Oh, oh, that never goes away.

Let me just tell you, it gets worse. It gets worse as you get older.

I'm not going to retell the horrible story of the shooting, but my personal connection is kind of funny. So let's just focus on that part. If you want to hear the horrible story of the shooting of the University of Alabama at Huntsville, we just did it this week. So congratulations, Smartie episode. We lived in a suburb of Huntsville at the time of the shooting and it shook the entire area because things like that don't really happen here. Flash forward a couple of years and a new fast food establishment is built in our town.

My mom went to this restaurant every morning before work to get a sandwich and chat with one of the employees who she ends up becoming very good friends with. My mom is a classic Southern woman. She never meets a stranger and she will talk your ear off. So this was very common for her. Well, after a while, my mom being friends with this lovely woman, she finally confides in my mom that she and this is in all caps, shared a jail cell with Amy Bishop Anderson while she was awaiting sentencing for this murder.

Well, that is not the connection, I thought. Right. It's very much out of left field. And then it says, seriously, the employee was in jail for minor charges, but she was put in a cell with a murderer for some period of time. But that's not all. She told my mom that while they were in jail together, the other inmates called her shooter Bishop, and that she mostly kept to herself. The woman also told my mom that the 20/20 episode about Amy Bishop Anderson aired on the jail TV and they all watched it while she was in the room with them.

Oh, my God, the woman said ABBA sat in the corner and sulked the whole time.

I don't like the way I'm portrayed in this story about me being a fucking murderer, about about me truly doing one of the worst crimes there have ever.

I mean, just absolutely psychotic. Anyways, as much as I make fun of my mom for befriending every person she meets, I'm currently thankful that she talks to everyone she meets or else I wouldn't have the story to tell you, stay sexy and maybe befriend your local restaurant workers.

Abigael, I love that because I love the idea of this other nice Southern mom woman who somehow gets this woman to tell her about something you would think a Southern mom might be judging you about.

Right? She's not. She just she's clearly not. Yeah. Which is really cool because, you know, people get in and be in prison for very petty things and it's happens to a lot of fucking people. And to judge those people is pretty sad. Yeah. Sometimes people get are arrested and put in jail for things so minor or sometimes for nothing at all as we well know. So there is that thing of like, you know, we're not this is not we're not basically.

Why did they put right a person who who murdered three people and shot nine people just within with any petty drug crime or something. Yeah. Or whatever. Violent. Yeah. It's stealing muffins from the shop or whatever. Like Yeah. OK, my last one, abandon underwater locales, accidental deaths and bonus sinkhole horror. Whoa, wait. That's not the right one. Oh no that's not me.

Oh. Just everything I wanted to hear about. Do you want me to do it. Because it's kind of a bummer. And then it gets the end is a sinkhole. I'm going to save it for next week I think. OK, this one's just called my favorite drunk grandpa story. Sup, bitches. OK, my sister introduced me to your podcast a few months ago and by no surprise to anyone, I am hooked. I love all the grandpa stories and I think you guys might love this one, too.

I've always heard stories about my mom's dad being a bad ass. He always bragged about being a Marine and how he was trained to kill. Knowing so many stories about him, I couldn't pick one.

So what do I do? Call mom. I asked her if there are any cool stories about her dad and she replies with, well, there was the one time your granddad's brother stabbed him 16 times in the stomach and he almost died. Oh, what?

And then it says, Excuse me, what?

Which I think that line is an every time someone asks their parents something is yes, it's always in there. Like, why haven't you fucking told me this? According to my mom, my granddad Robert and his brother Clint were drinking together. Not an uncommon thing. And Clint asked my granddad for a cigarette being the cocky dude, my grandma. Was he picks up a cigarette butt from the ashtray and flicks it at his face, Clint, in a drunken rage, stabbed him 16 times in the stomach, leaving his small intestine, basically laying on the floor next to him.

No.

He lost about 90 percent of his blood and was put into a medically induced coma when he eventually recovered and lived to get shit faced with his brother another day.

Oh, so no hard feelings or jail time.

Apparently, I OK, my granddad and all of his eight siblings had a fair share of family squabbles and stabbings. Oh. Like the time one of his sisters stabbed another one of his brothers. Because why? I have no fucking clue. Well, anyway, stay sexy and don't flick cigarettes at your brother's face, Masih. I think actually, if you're like, look, all families are different and this family is clearly into knife play, in many ways, there's knives laying around.

Maybe that's the family business.

But I'm laughing at this because it's old timey, it feels old timey. And so it almost feels like it's a time and a place. It's not funny. And they are still friends.

So it's, you know what I mean? And it's his name's Clint. So clearly he had a cowboy hat and a bad attitude.

What if it was like inside information about the actual Clint Eastwood where it's like, you know, he's like he's too much of a homicidal maniac, just a touch. That's why these are so good surprise in the least bit. But it is so funny to have, like, stories that you don't know about your family.

You know, yesterday I just feel like sorry, really, that Clint, it's right to be mad if someone flicks a burning cigarette in your face.

But but two stabs would have gotten the message across 16 as I'm trying to kill you.

It's too many. I mean, that's it is. I'm trying to kill you and I'm uncontrolled rage or I'm a blackout alcoholic who maybe needs to go to AA after this experience and.

Well, you know, now you're sober and you're judging everybody. Fair enough. Fair enough. Rock bottom for me is a different thing than rock bottom for Clint. And I appreciate that. And I agree that mine is maybe like, you know, falling asleep in front of the TV. And Clint's is not stabbing someone 16 times. 16 is two. It's it's three more than a baker's dozen too many. I don't want to see intestines spilling anywhere.

I don't want a medically induced coma involved. If your brother if you and your brother get a fight that ends in you holding your small intestines.

Yeah.

And then I'll bet you any therapy. Clint's the one who called the ambulance to one of those like, oh, let me take like I did this.

It's such a brother thing, you know, either that or Clint picked up that lit cigarette and finished it and then put it out in his small intestine, clears all these different.

Clint was the town ambulance driver through and he's great.

Wait, how old do we know how old it is? No, I'm always thinking it's old timey, but then a lot of our listeners are super young.

So this could have been from the ether, like in nineteen ninety one. My Uncle Clint went nuts, grandpa. So it could be the 80s, the 70s, seventies, which sounds right.

Still, if you have more information about when this happened and how inappropriate my laughter is, please write in and let us know if Clint's actually our age and he wants to tell us the story himself. Oh no. Please tell him no thank you from us.

Not interested in his life, though. Remember, he went to. We did eventually.

Oh, I thought you meant that. I did eventually stab someone 17 times and that was rock bottom. And he said enough, enough in us Clinton to take a long look at yourself in the mirror and my relationship with my siblings.

It's right. Well, we did it, we did something all right. Look, you're sending it to us, we just we're just reading the news. You don't make the news. That's right. We're news talkers, not news.

You know, creators. That's right. Send us your story. Clearly, the bar is set very high. And, you know, we want to share all your fucking stories about whatever the fuck really love does.

Just dispatch reminding. We really love heroic teens and preteens. Oh, absolutely. They really need the shot in the arm. They mean, you know, you need to know we we respect them.

They don't have to be about murder. Like, did you, you know, put out a fire or something. Yeah, right. Like you start a fire and you put it out quickly.

We want to hear about it. Did you like. Yeah. Did you do something heroic that like or a team that you knew did something. I don't know. Yeah.

Were you brave in the moment. But also at the same time 13. Right. Things are difficult as a combination. So hard to be both of those things brave and 13.

All I did was whine and eat candy. All I did was whine and mess.

You know what I would love? We always ask for sibling stories that when you tried to kill your sibling when you were little, you know. Yeah. What about you saved your sibling? That would be nice, too, right? Yeah, that would be. But guess what, guys? Stay sexy and don't get murdered. Good bye, Elvis.

You want a cookie?