Lemonada. When 23-year-old Carla Booth woke up the morning of March fifth, 1982, and saw fresh snow on the ground, the sense of dread she had been feeling all week exploded into full-blown panic. The sun hadn't risen yet, but her husband, Buddy, was already dressing in the brown uniform that he wore for work. Even in good weather, she hated that he had to drive a laundry delivery van through Utah's Canians. And whatever was nagging her that morning felt different. I just had a feeling something was going to happen. I just had this feeling several days before, and it just kept getting stronger and stronger longer. In the moment, she blamed the overnight snowstorm. In retrospect, maybe it was the warning that just doesn't make sense until it's too late. And so in the predawn light, Carla made what seemed like an absurd request of her husband. I really tried to beg him not to go that day or to find a different job or something like that, where he's not going up the canyon and stuff. I tried so hard, but he liked his job. Delivering and picking up linens from local restaurants might not sound like the most enjoyable job, but Buddy was friendly with the people he met on his daily route, and he looked forward to the conversations and the scenery.

It was a job that paid him enough money that his wife didn't have to work, and he could help his mom with a few things. This was a Friday, so his first stop was one of Utah's most well-known restaurants, Log Haven. It was located in one of the Valley's canyons, and that meant he had a steep, slick climb ahead of him. He buttoned his shirt with bud sewn on the chest, ran a comb through his thick, unruly curves, and shrugged off his wife's worry. He always did that, but I knew something was wrong. They'd only been married four years, but already she knew if there was one thing Buddy Booth was, one thing he'd always been, it was the person who showed up for work. And they did need the money, with two young daughters sleeping in the next room. So Carla reluctantly pulled on her coat and prepared to drive her husband to work. They left their children in the care of Buddy's youngest sister and headed out into the darkness. It was about 07:00 AM when Carla dropped Buddy off at Peerless Laundry in downtown Salt Lake where he'd pick up the van he drove for work.

She once worked there, too, but Buddy preferred she stay home to care for their children. She kissed him goodbye, and then she drove home to the chaos and joy of two tiny girls, to their apartment and modest dreams. It had been a tough year for their young family. They'd nearly broken up. But they were young, just 23 and 24. And if there was one thing they thought they had in abundance, it was time. After his wife drove away, Buddy climbed into the Chevrolet delivery van, undaunted by the weather, 27 cents in his pocket. The sun was rising as he turned on to Mill Creek Canyon Road and began the slow drive to the first of his two stops in the Canyon, Log Haven. The high-end restaurant was nestled on the north side of the canyon in thick trees. Using police reports, pictures, and media accounts, we've pieced together what might have happened as Buddy he arrived at Log Haven that morning. The driveway sloped upward from the narrow tree-lined road, and he would have been able to see the pictures Log cabin, a blanket of white adorning its dark wood frame, a scene worthy of a postcard.

But then Just as he prodded the bulky van up the incline, he saw something lying in the snow just east of the front door. He eased the van to a stop and then turned off the engine. He stepped out of the van, his boots sinking in the unplowed snow, And as he got closer, he could see it was a person, a man, laying face down in the snow. And then he saw blood everywhere, it seemed. As he leaned over the body, someone came rushing out of the restaurant. Buddy spun around and came face to face with a man about his age. Buddy asked, What happened here? And the man said something, but Buddy wasn't looking at the man anymore. He was looking at the gun that the man was pointing at him. But he turned to run just as shots rang out. From KSL podcast, I'm Amy Donaldson, and this is The Letter, Season 2, Ripple Effect. Episode 2, Dead Men Speak No Lies. Do you find yourself searching for true crime podcasts that are different from what you're always recommended? Do you want to make a real difference in the cases that you're following?

Well, you're a crime junkie. And I'm Ashley flowers, the creator and host of the number one true crime podcast, Crime Junkie. There are hundreds of episodes already available, and each Monday we dive into the details of cases spanning from some of the most infamous to those that you have never heard covered before. Listen to Crime Junkie podcast Now, wherever you're listening. Happy 2024. New year, new you, right? Let me guess. You're thinking about joining a new gym, starting a fad diet, buying that Theragun. Everyone's always yammering on about. I've got a better idea. Listen to my podcast. I'm Samantha Bee, writer, comedian, and host of Choice Words from Lemonada Media. This whole month of January, we're going to help you make better choices in 2024. We'll go beyond superficial hacks and get at the truth of how to lead a more meaningful life. Just search for choice words on your podcast player of choice and hit follow so you don't miss an episode. Now, that is a good choice. Carla was only 17 when she met Buddy, but she was already living on her own. She was the 12th of 13 children in a blended family.

Her parents divorced when she was so young. She has no memories of their marriage. She had almost no relationship with her biological father until she went to live with him at age 12. I was a rat and didn't want to live at my mom and stepdad's house anymore. And so they sent me to my dad's, and I was thinking it would be better there, but it was worse. Her parents' attempts to discipline or care for her felt like a cage that she had to escape. She skipped school, ran away from home, oftentimes with boys, until eventually it landed her in juvenile lockup. They call it ungovernable. I didn't want to listen. I wanted to basically be on my own. I didn't want to feel like my parents owned me. It continued until I was 16, and then I was emancipated from my parents. Childhood held no allure for her. She dropped out of high school, moved in with a friend, and started to live life on her terms. But that turned out to be a lot tougher than she'd anticipated. When Buddy and his cousin walked into the all-night diner where she was eking out a living, she felt drawn to him.

They chose to sit at the counter, and I was waiting on them, and Buddy was talking to me. I just felt flattered because not too many people, guys, said a word to me. They didn't even notice me, a lot of them. And so I got to talking to Buddy. He was really sweet and everything. And what, two weeks later, we moved in together. Carla said falling for Buddy was easy. She said he was handsome, but not in the traditional sense. Buddy had red curly hair, really thick red curly hair. He had freckles. He He was a little bit taller than me. I'm 5'1. He was about 5'3. When I met him, all his front teeth were gone because he had been Years earlier, he had been hit in the mouth by brass knuckles. Like I said, it didn't matter to me. It didn't bother me a bit. She liked his unconventional looks. But more than that, she liked who he was. I don't fall for someone who's perfect and glamorous and all that stuff. I fell for the kindness, the caring. Buddy and Carla had a lot in common. He also grew up in a blended family.

He was the fifth of eight children, 14, if you counted half siblings. And he offered Carla the same thing he'd given his mom and siblings growing up, someone they could rely on. Buddy's younger her sister, Tammy Pipes, is one of the few remaining relatives willing or able to talk with us. She lives in Reno, so I talked to her on the phone. She was happy to share some memories of her brother who was, at times, more of a parent than a sibling. He was just a worker and helped my mom out because my mom had open heart surgery. She had a pacemaker. Then he made sure all this other kids were doing what we were supposed to do to help mom out. Tammy said Buddy, while still a child himself, took on the role of caretaker, especially when their parents divorced and their mother remarried a man whose demons became buddies to battle. Her second husband was an alcoholic. When he'd drink, he'd beat on her and stuff. So Buddy took charge and took care of that. So he always helped Mom. Buddy had to grow up fast because that's what his family needed. He chose a full-time job over a high school diploma.

And while Buddy may not have had the luxury of a care-free childhood, he held onto a playfulness that Tammy still cherishes. He played cards with me. He loved to watch Western. He loved me. Mostly Elvis Presley, Tom Jones, Marty Robbins. Money was a limited resource, but thanks to Buddy, fun times or not. She said he always found ways to have fun, tubing in the canyons or just taking his siblings camping. Oh, and those missing teeth? Tammy says her brother didn't lose them in a fight. He lost them to an infection. But in his defense, the brass knuckle story did feel like a better way to impress women. In any case, Buddy never seemed to care that they were gone or that other people's choices robbed him of a childhood. He seemed content just being able to take care of the people he loved. Tammy said she thought Buddy was happy with Carla. She remembers arguments, but she also remembers the times they turned their living room into a dance floor. When Carla moved in with he was living with his mom and siblings, but that arrangement was short-lived. Carla said she and his mother clashed because his mom got involved in their arguments.

But when they decided to get their own place, they chose an apartment nearby. Buddy tried to stay close because he would go over and count out the money that she needed to pay her bills. Buddy could count money, and his mother couldn't. Other than that, Buddy couldn't read or write. Carla said she grew to love Buddy's family, and their relationship improved after the young couple moved into an apartment of their own. But it seemed that someone in Buddy's life always needed a place to stay, and Buddy was more than happy to help. It was hard, but it was good, too. Sometimes we'd disagree on things, and of course, we'd have his cousin living with us or his sister living with us. But before the couple really had time to build any stability for themselves, they found out they were going to be parents. I got pregnant with my daughter, my eldest daughter, at 18. When he first found out I was pregnant with her, he wanted to get married, and I told him no. When I turned 19 and had my daughter, I looked at him and told him, Okay, I'm ready to get married now.

They named their little girl Norma after Buddy's mother. It was awesome. Oh, yeah. We were just thrilled. But even the joy of Norma's birth came with terrifying challenges. Norma was born with a congenital heart defect and spent the first few weeks of her life in a hospital incubator. We were both worried because here we were, young parents with a child, and she had a heart condition, and we didn't know how to handle this. It was really scary. But he couldn't take time off work, and he was torn between being with his daughter and making sure they could pay their bills. So it was tough on him because he always worried about her. She became his everything. Their fear and worry made those first few weeks excruciatingly difficult. But Buddy embraced fatherhood. When he'd come home from work, he'd play with them on the floor. They would just have fun with each other. I love seeing the two of them interact with each other and stuff like that. It was beautiful. And in the family Buddy was building with Carla, he tried to do what he'd always done, work hard to provide stability for them. But even their best days were also a struggle.

Norma had multiple open heart surgeries, each time reviving the fear they'd felt when she was born, on top of mounting expenses. The stress took a toll. They fought a lot. Ordinary disagreements were exacerbated by their fear for their daughter. They only had one car, so Carla took Buddy to work every day and then headed to Primary Children's Hospital, where Norma spent months of her life. They relied on Medicare to help pay for the surgery she needed. Carla had lost two sisters and a nephew to the same defect. Life felt like one long series of challenges, and Carla responded the way she always had, by fighting. But eventually, their constant argument strangled any affection they had for each other. When Norma was about two and a half, they separated. I left him and took Norma, and he was not happy with that one. Yeah. That's he wanted his family back. He wanted Norma, yeah. Most of their fights were about how much time Buddy could spend with Norma, but Carla also started dating someone else, and that added to the animosity. One night, everything came to a head in a grocery store parking lot, where Buddy Buddy found Carla sitting in her new boyfriend's truck with Norma.

Buddy demanded that Carla give him time with his daughter. He tried to pull the three-year-old out of the truck, and Carla tried to pull her back inside. As they struggled, someone saw the fight and called the police. But before officers arrived, Buddy managed to take Norma and drive away. Carla didn't know what to do. She eventually called the police, and that's when she learned that she and Buddy were now accused of child endanger. Authorities had had already taken Norma from him and placed her in foster care. Next thing I know, we had to go to court. And so we went to court, and they ordered us to go to a parenting class. And so Norma was taken from us for probably about eight months, eight, nine months. It was very terrifying. During those eight months, two things happened that recindled their hope for future together. In parenting classes and family counseling, they learned better communication skills, and they found out they were expecting a second child. Despite the turmoil and uncertainty of this time, Carla said discovering she was pregnant again felt like a blessing. I was thrilled. I was happy about it. They welcomed their second daughter, Dana, and about a month later, Norma returned home.

But the family of four only had three months together before that snow January, March morning in 1982. Their problems were not solved, but they felt a new sense of commitment, not just to each other, but to their two little girls. And so the day Carla dropped Buddy off at work, that sense of foreboding fated quickly. She had a busy day ahead full of motherly duties, cooking, cleaning, and caring for their little girls. Carla said everything about that day felt ordinary. About 3:00 PM, she left her babies with her sister-in-law, Tammy, again and drove downtown to pick up her husband. She pulled up in front of the Peerless laundry building and turned off her car to wait. But when she looked up, it wasn't Buddy walking toward her car. It was Buddy's boss. Carla knew him, so she prepared for some teasing. I used to work for Peerless, so I thought he was just coming out to give me a hard time. But there was something odd about his demeanor. He'd come over and he had a serious face. I Rolled the window down and I said, What do you want? That's when he told me that Buddy had been shot.

And I'm like, What? Without thinking, she fumbled for her keys still hanging from the ignition. She needed to get to Buddy. And I tried to start the car because I was going to go where he was at. At that point, I was quite hysterical. And his boss reached in and grabbed my hand, took the keys and says, Carla, it won't do you any good. He's dead. The next thing I knew, Buddy's family came in a different car to get me. Well, they opened the door for me to get out, and I couldn't move. Yeah, I couldn't move. Couldn't feel my legs. All I'd like to do is feel my arms, but I couldn't move. So they had to help me out of the car because I was just numb. I was just totally numb. She was 23, and now a widow, left to pick up the pieces of a life that already felt fragile, left to care for an infant and a four-year-old girl alone. After the break, detectives try to piece together what happened. This show is sponsored by Betterhelp. So, listeners, how is your social battery doing these days? Are you feeling drained?

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One dressed in black suit pants, a gray jacket, and black Oxford shoes. The other wore brown pants, brown hunting boots, and a blue jacket, a blue comb, stuck out of his left rear pocket. Standing with the paramedics was the man who said he found the bodies, the restaurant's manager, Michael Moore. Wilkinson looked him over. He was young, thin, his curly dark hair cut short, and he wore a plaid shirt tucked neatly into his jeans. Mr. Moore appeared quite shaken, and I had him sit in my patrol car. This is a voice actor reading the police report Deputy Wilkinson wrote in 1982. I asked him if he knew the victims. He said he thought one was Jordan Rasmussen, the auditor for the owners of the Log Haven. He said Jordan's auto was parked at the mouth of the canyon, that he had passed it coming up. He also said he had a meeting scheduled with Jordan at 0800. He then stated he needed a drink of water, and could he go up to the restaurant? He exited the car and walked up to the driveway going up to the restaurant. Deputy Wilkinson got out of his patrol car, and one of the firefighters pointed out something that he found strange.

One of the firemen asked me if I had noticed the blood on that guy's face. Wilkinson had not seen the blood. He walked up the driveway, and as he got close to the front door, he passed tire tracks, shell casings, and a single cigarette butt. About 20 feet away, the only spot where asphalt was visible, something melted the snow. And as he got closer, he could see a massive amount of coagulated, thick, heavy blood. A couple of feet from the blood smashed into the freshly fallen snow, a broken pair of eyeglasses. When he walked into the restaurant, he noticed it was extremely warm. The thermostat read more than 80 degrees. In an office adjacent to the kitchen, there was an empty shoulder holster, an ammunition for a 0.45 caliber gun, the same caliber casing in the snow-covered driveway. Michael Moore emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water and a napkin in his hand. There was no blood on his face. He was talking about business problems. It's all crazy. They set up people. They're going to fire us all. Michael asked if he could make some coffee. But Wilkinson, thinking that he was acting strangely, asked him to stay seated and wait for investigators to arrive.

From those first moments at Loghaven, police couldn't make sense of Michael Moore's story. So once Homicide Detectives arrived, they took him downtown to the main offices of the Salt Lake County Sheriff's Department. That's where they'd continue their conversation. In a windowless room on the ninth floor, Michael Moore told detectives Jordan Rasmussen was a coworker, that they were scheduled to meet at the restaurant that morning to talk through some bookkeeping issues. But when he arrived at the restaurant, he saw the van, the blood, the bodies. And then he called for help. Things were not adding up. This is T. J. Sacklos. He was a Salt Lake County prosecutor at the time and was assigned to the case almost immediately. The Salt Lake County detectives, the Homicide Unit back then. They were incredibly sharp. That was the A team. They were really, really sharp guys. T. J. Said detectives immediately suspected Michael Moore was more than an unfortunate bystander. They start seeing the jacket, the blood on him and the blood on his pants. How do you get two bodies in a van and then just discover them? After about a half hour of trying to convince detectives that he was just a witness, he realized he was a suspect.

One of them read him as Miranda writes. He called his father and asked for help hiring an attorney. But his father said that because Michael was an adult, he had to find legal help on his own. But Michael didn't do that. Instead, he confessed. Around 4:00 PM, Michael was taken to the same room where he met with the same homicide investigator. The recordings of this conversation have been lost to time. But we have the transcript, which you'll hear read by voice actors. For both Michael Moore and the detective questioning him, Garth Beckstead. Michael admitted he'd lied to them in the first interview. He had planned to meet Jordan Rasmussen at the restaurant, but he wasn't sure Jordan's car would make it up the Canyon because of the new snow. I went down to the bottom of the canyon, and I just sat and had a few cigarettes and waited. When he came, I said, You're not going to make it. I said, Park there. I'll give you a ride up and we can discuss it. I'll shoot you back down. I think I'll save you time if you get stuck or something. Michael said he'd given other employees rides from the same spot, and he said that he told Jordan it would give them extra time to discuss the bookkeeping issues.

Jordan was apparently persuaded because as you heard in episode one, he got into that Jeep. Michael told police they discussed ongoing financial issues and a check that needed to be deposited. But we can't be sure that this is what the two men talked about. More painted a picture of Jordan Rasmussen that no one in Jordan's life would recognize. I mean, it's not a guy I want to mess with. And I didn't realize his devious side until just recently. I mean, I was scared for my life with this guy. He said Jordan Rasmussen had been stealing from the restaurant in his capacity as their accountant. And recently, he said he'd been pressuring Michael to do the same. The thing that me off today due to the fact that Jordan has been forcing me to embezel funds for my company. He's been forcing you to do that? I He'd show you that through... To sign over American Express checks to him. How has he been forcing you to do so? By threat of violence. How did he threaten you? Just bodily force. He said, It'll be in your best interest. I can't remember his exact words. And this has been going on for about a month.

Michael told the detective that he'd asked Jordan to meet him that morning to discuss all of this. He said he wore a 45 in a shoulder holster under his leather coat because he'd been threatened. I was carrying the piece for personal protection. If somebody actually did, if he tried to run me over or tried to pull a weapon on me or something, I'd have some recourse of defense. I was mad as hell at the guy. I thought he was a jerk. So by the time Jordan and Michael arrived at the restaurant, Michael's fear exploded into rage. When Jordan asked me for the American Express checking in the Jeep this morning, I just lost my total cool. Michael pulled the Jeep to a stop just east of the front door. And when Jordan Rasmussen climbed out, Michael Moore did the same. He immediately pulled the gun from its holster and pointed it at Jordan. It's an automatic 45, caulked it, reached over the hood. Jordan saw the gun. And he said, No, Mike. Michael held the gun with both hands, and he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Jordan in the right side of the head, spinning his 6'3 frame around.

Moore fired again. The second shot hit him in the back, knocking him forward into the snow. It was not a personal satisfaction. It was the fact that this guy's such a jerk that he no longer deserves to live. I mean, that the rage was that intense. But almost immediately, Michael said his rage was replaced with something else, the gravity of killing someone. I was horrified. I just started shaking. I lost any semblance of control that I had. I ran back and forth. What am I going to do with this body? But all of a sudden, a realization of what had transpired hit me. The only thing I thought of was I could sink him in the sewer. Moore ran around the yard, leaving confused footsteps in the snow. Until had an idea. He thought there might be a chain in the restaurant. Maybe he could use it to lower Jordan's body into the restaurant's sump, where they dumped raw sewage and grease from the kitchen. Thought there might be something in the restaurant. So I ran back into the restaurant, looked around, searched the basement area between the bakery, the office, on the downstairs flight, through the freezer room, then the furnace room and whatnot.

Just running wildly. It Couldn't find anything. He ran back outside into the cold to figure out what to do next, only to realize he was no longer alone. And there's the peerless linen laundry truck. Buddy Booth had pulled into the driveway while Mora was inside. And he's standing there looking at this dead body, and I froze. I didn't know what to do. I said, I've called the sheriff. He said, What happened? And I said somebody shot him. I don't know. Michael says almost without knowing, he changed course and stopped pretending he didn't know what had happened. And at that point, unconsciously, I reached in, grabbed the gun, cocked it again, jammed, dropped the shell, loaded it again, and shot him. He shot Buddy twice as he turned to run. The bullets hit the back of Buddy's right elbow and his neck just below his right ear. He fell like Jordan, face down in the snow. Detective Begstead asked him, Why kill a man he didn't even know. Why did you shoot the guy from peerless? Fear. Fear of what? Being put, I just shot a man, and I was afraid of getting being arrested, right?

He arrested. And dead men speak no lies. I'll put it that way. After shooting Buddy, Michael walked to where Jordan was crumpled in the snow and shot him one more time in the head. And then he walked over to Buddy and fired a bullet into his head. Michael Moore seemed remarkably handed, eerily clinical, as he walked detectives through every graphic detail, ending with how he tried to clean up the crime scene before he called police just after 08:00 AM. He said he dragged Jordan's and Buddy's bodies across the snow and shoved them into the back of the van. Michael moved the van to the road, and he took a white towel off Buddy's dashboard and used it to wipe the blood off the van and off his hands. He changed his shirt and hid the bloody one in a restaurant closet. He spent time shoveling some of the blood-covered snow into a trash can and dumped it in the sump, that sewer hole, the one where he had wanted to dump Jordan's body. And that's where he tossed the gun. After that, he called the owners, a coworker, the cops, and then he waited. It would take two interviews in eight hours, but Michael finally told police what he'd done.

No one could say whether Michael confessed out of remorse or if he thought it was his best strategic option. But he did it before securing a lawyer. He told detectives that he thought about Jordan Rasmussen's family, his children. He said he didn't know the linen driver, Buddy Booth, or who he left behind. I shot two people today, he finally told the detective. I've done a very bad thing. More after the break. He would lie his way into their dreams. He was looking for James Bond girls. How fun would that be to be a Bond girl? Then twist them into a nightmare. This guy has done this before. He'll do it again. Until a group of women band it together to put him behind bars and keep him there. You have to participate fiercely, fiercely in what happens next. I'm Keith Morosen, and this is murder in the Hollywood Hills, an all-new podcast from Dateland. Listen to murder in the Hollywood Hills for free each week or subscribe to Dateland Premium on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or datelandpremium. Com to unlock new episodes one week early. Hey, everyone. It's David Ducouveny. You ever feel like a failure?

Trust me, I get Hell, I've spent my whole life almost feeling like a failure. It's appropriate, though, because on Fail Better, my new podcast with Lemenade Media, exploring the World of Failure, How it Holds Us Back, Propels Us Forward, and ultimately shapes our lives is the whole point. Each week, I'll chat with artists, athletes, actors, and experts about how our perceived failures have actually been our biggest catalysts for growth, revelation, and even healing. Through these conversations, I hope we can learn how to embrace the opportunity of failure and fail better together. Fail Better is out on May seventh, wherever you get your podcasts. It was Saturday morning when John T. Nielson got a call from his office. As the Chief Deputy of the Salt Lake County Attorney's office, it wasn't unusual for police to let him know about major crimes, even on a weekend. They said, We have a bad homicide, double homicide. We need to talk to you and get a prosecutor assigned as soon as we possibly can. We have a suspect in custody, and we need to move forward. John T, as everyone calls him, is now a silver hair, universally beloved figure in Utah's criminal justice system.

And he's the one who originally contacted me about this story. But when he first got the call at home on a cold Saturday in March, he had no idea this case would eventually change his views on criminal justice in profound ways. Back in 1982, he was the man responsible for assigning prosecutors to criminal cases. And while the weekend call at home wasn't out of place, the crime was definitely out of the ordinary. It sounded unusual to me because it was a double homicide at a fairly famous place in the county, the Loghaven restaurant. I knew it was going to be a very prominently covered case in the news and that we needed to do everything right because of the nature of the case. Of course, they told me who the victim was, but at the time, it didn't mean anything. It wasn't until Monday when John T. Learned more details about the murders that he realized he had a personal connection to the case. He knew Jordan Rasmussen's parents. When I found out who his parents were, I was particularly incensed because his My father, Eldon Rasmussen, was a high school biology teacher of mine and a person that I had become a friend with.

When I found out that it was Elden's son that had been killed, when I found out who the family was, it just made me sick. It just really hit me right in the gut. Because of his relationship with Elden Rasmussen, he did something unusual. He went to Blanche and Elden's home, sat in their living room, and offered his condolences. And then he made them a commitment. My recollection is, as I went over and talked to the Rasmussen family, told them that we were going to pursue this case, how we were going to pursue it. We were going to sign good prosecutors to it, and we were going to pursue the death penalty. It was a commitment John T felt confident his office could deliver. This was a slam dunk, seemed to me. And I thought, An obvious case that merited the death penalty. While John T. And his team worked to build a case that would send Michael Moore to death row, two young widows were trying to bury their husbands, comfort their children, and just come to terms with their new reality. I distinctly remember walking up the stairs to Russon Mortuary, and the bishop greeted me, and he said, Deanne, you need to see the body.

You need to see Jordan. The suggestion that she look at the body of her dead husband came from someone Deanne Rasmussen trusted, but she hesitated. Because in the days after her husband was killed, She'd only been sure of a few things. One of them was that she didn't want to see Jordan's corpse. She didn't want anyone to see it. At the mortuary, I told them that I wanted a closed casket. Deanne never liked the tradition of viewing the body of a loved one at a memorial service. Even before she entered this disorienting new reality, she thought it was strange to gather and then gawk at a corpse. But in her situation, Jordan had shot in the head. So until her bishop suggested that she needed to see him, she had no plans to view the body of her 32-year-old husband. He said you needed for closure. This is the same religious leader who delivered the news of Jordan's death a few days earlier, accompanied her, as she told Jordan's family, and gone to great lengths to ease her pain. So she listened. And as the family gathered in a room lined flowers at the mortuary in downtown Salt Lake City, she agreed to open the casket.

So I remember walking in the room, and they asked me if I was okay to do that. And I told them, yes, I was. And I am so glad I did. Deanne let her children into the room where the rest of the family was already saying their goodbyes. Only eight-year-old David accompanied her. Their five-year-old daughter refused to go near her father's coffin. Lisa didn't want to see him because she had a cold, and she didn't want to give her dad a cold. The next day, Lisa had a change of heart. So when they arrived at the church where they would memorialize Jordan Rasmussen's short life, Deanne asked the family for a favor before they gathered to pray. Could they open the casket one more time? And then someone lifted the little girl into their arms. She said she wanted to see her dad. So we opened the casket again so she could see. And it was heartbreaking. This was her life now, living every moment with broken hearts. Deanne wasn't the only young widow trying to navigate grief and motherhood. Just 23, Carla Booth had been banished to this agonizing new place, too. Buddy's family picked her up after Buddy's boss delivered the news of his death, but they didn't take her home.

They took me to my mother-in-law's house, and I kept saying, I I need to go to my house. I need to go to my house. And they go, No, you don't. You don't want to go there yet. When she finally went to their apartment, it was to pick up mail and a few items for her and the girls. And that's when it happened. Something she still struggles to explain. And I was going to go in until I seen Buddy standing in the window, and I knew it wasn't real. I was seeing him when I knew he wasn't there. Carla never did go back to living in the apartment they'd shared. The publicity surrounding the killings meant Carla consumed painful details about her husband's death the same way strangers did. Carla remembers one night in particular, shortly after the murder. She was sitting on the living room floor playing with her four-year-old daughter, Norma, baby Dana, lying next door, the TV on in the background. She was oblivious to what was on until she heard Buddy's name. The victims have been identified as Jordan Rasmussen, an accountant for Logheaven, and Buddy Booth, driver of the Linen Band.

She looked up, and there on the TV screen, her husband's body lay face down in the back of the van he drove for work. Investigators believe Booth, the other victim, just happened on the shooting and was killed to keep him quiet. Both of them appear to be shot in the head with a fairly large caliber weapon. I watched the news. It was devastating to me. I cried through it and everything. It was hard. It was so hard for me. As days turned into weeks and eventually months, Carla's heartbreak hardened into something else. I was furious, and I'm like, He took my husband. He should be taken. Next time on The Letter. As lawyers prepare for trial, no one can understand why Michael Moore resorted to murder. Just a pretty average, normal guy with a decent job and not much of a criminal history of any kind. And all of a sudden, he's involved with killing two people. And in the courtroom, the families of Buddy and Jordan hear Michael's version of the story for the first time. I was crying. I think it was at that point that they stopped the trial. One more thing, I find out I have a personal connection to this case.

Want to find out about Amy's connection to the case? You can get a sneak peek right now. This is producer, Andrea Smarten, and I'm here to tell you all you have to do is click on the button to subscribe to Lemonada Premium on Apple podcasts, and you'll get access to the inside scoop. Bonus episodes are a great way to get a deeper dive into The Letter. You can also follow us on social media at the Letter podcast, or check out our website, theletterpodcast. Com. If you like The Letter, please take a few minutes and give us a rating and write a review. It helps our show get discovered. The Letter Season 2 is written by me, Amy Donaldson and Andreas Martin, who is also lead on production and sound design, with additional help from Nina Ernest and Erin Mason. Mixing by Trent Sell, main musical score, composed by Allison Leighton-Brown. Special thanks to Becky Bruce, Kelly Ann Halvorson, Ryan Meeks, Ben Keebrooke, Felix Bennell, Josh Tilton, and Dave Cawley. With Lemonada Media, executive producers, Jessica Cordova-Kramer and Stephanie Wittels Wax. For Workhouse Media, executive producer Paul Anderson. And for KSL Podcasts, executive producer Sheryl Worsley.

The Letter is a production of KSL podcast and Lemonada Media in association with Workhouse Media. Do you ever get hit with a cringy memory of your 13-year-old self out of nowhere and suddenly you're panicked, sweating, and laughing at the same time? Don't worry, we all get that. It's because being an adolescent is one of the most visceral shared experiences we have as people. And we want to talk about it. Join me, Penn Badgley and my two friends, Nava and Sophie, on Pod crushed as we interview celebrity guests about the joys and horrors of being a teenager and how those moments made them who they are today. New episodes of Podcrushed are out on April 24th, wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, I'm Elise Myers. I'm a content creator and comedian. You might know me from TikTok. Why am I in your ears right now? Well, that's a great question. I would love to tell you. I have a new podcast called Funny Because It's True. On my show, I'll be interviewing comedians, pop culture icons, and also just people I find really funny. We'll be talking about the awkward moments that keep you awake at night.

Because if you don't laugh, you cry, right? Okay, Funny Because It's True. Out now wherever you get your podcast.