deborah-wilson-final

Deborah Lynn Wilson, a student at Drexel University, was found dead at the bottom of a stairwell on campus. She was beaten and strangled, but there was no evidence of sexual assault. Her shoes and socks were missing, and her body was covered with her coat. The police theorized that she was killed inside the building and then dragged outside. The case remains a mystery. He regaled me with his love of the foot on so very many occasions that I cannot count. His fixation is absolute and is a visibly driving urge and force within him. Mostly I would humor him and appear to listen intently, but it was more than one could bear. If I didn't change the subject, he'd speak endlessly. I'm Acadia Einstein, and this is Stranger Things. Welcome, everybody, back to Strangeful Murder Can Be Fun If It's Not You. I am here with the lovely and talented Graveyard Grace. Hi, Grace. Hey. How's every little thing? You know, pretty same old, same old. Yeah. Well, we're about to shake that shit up. Let's do it. All right. We're going to be going to Philadelphia. Okay. Where they invented cream cheese. Did they really? Like legit? No. Oh. I can't imagine. I mean, people have been creaming and cheesing for years, centuries, probably. I mean, I would have thought. I think Philadelphia is just the brand, right? Yeah, probably. This isn't fucking Wikipedia, so if anybody's coming here for their cream cheese facts, you're in bad shape. So I have a lot of friends from Philadelphia, like a lot, because like half of my college came from Philadelphia, because it was Jesuit, you know, a bunch of people went to St. Joe's Prep in Philadelphia. One of my friends was super rich, like the richest part of Philadelphia is called the main line. And he was from the main line. You know who else was from the main line? Went to school with him? M. Night Shyamalan. You went to school with M. Night Shyamalan? No, I didn't. Oh. My friend from the main line in Philadelphia did. Oh. And this same kid, shit you're not, this is college. He's like, hey, I want to buy some jeans. Will someone like come with me? I mean, yeah, but I don't know where the fuck we're going to go, because this is the Bronx and there's not, but yeah, but why? He said, I've never had any before. I said, what do you mean you've never had jeans before? He said, my mother won't let me get them because they're quote unquote work pants. So what is he wearing khakis all the time? He wore khakis. Every day? Every day? And this was sophomore year, so it was like he was 19 by then. Oh my God. Imagine it. Work pants. Wow. Jesus Christ. Well, yeah, he's probably, he's a big, rich lawyer now, so big surprise, because his father was a big, rich lawyer. Anyways, Philadelphia has some creepy shit in it, because I decided I was going to try and think of what other topics might come up from Philadelphia sometime on our show. The boy in the box, which is 1957. They found a dead boy in a fucking box. So that's, that's a case, and then in 1911, there were the Kensington market murders, and then Kensington must be like a really murdery place, because in 2010, a hundred years later, there was the Kensington Strangler. So I'm setting the tone for Philadelphia, basically. You're not making me want to go there. Well, I mean, there's the Rocky statue, there's that. One of my friends from college brought me down there for a weekend, and it was awesome. Also, Philadelphia was the site of the MOVE bombing. Now, I'm sure that everybody has heard of things like, oh, Ruby Ridge and Waco. You know, these, oh, the government was just, like, bothering these people, right? Well, in Philadelphia in 1985, there were these people in this group called MOVE, and the cops just went, you know what we should do? Drop a bomb on the place where they are. Oh, my God. Yep. So that's, that's something you could look into. I mean, that's, that's the first time I hear about this one. No, the, the Frankfurt slasher, and then that's just the, the murdery part. Then there's the Philadelphia experiment, which the army sent people through time and made their faces become half of an aircraft carrier. Eastern State Penitentiary, where every fucking Ding Dong Ghost Hunter show in the world go, we're gonna spend the night in Eastern State Penitentiary so that we can keep going, what was that? All night while dummies watch us in night vision. The only cryptid, really, is the Jersey Devil, but as you pointed out on your episode, that's just a total myth. It isn't real at all. Yeah. Not really. It's totally real. It's not. It is not. As far as, as far as you know, you met it. It just looked like a guy. It totally looked like something hanging from the tree. See? Yeah, a Jersey Devil, that's what's hanging from the tree. So now that I've given you the, the bonafides of spooky Philadelphia, we're gonna talk about Drexel University, which really doesn't have any fucking spookiness at all, except for this case. The only famous guy I could find that went there was this guy, Michael Smirconish, and all he is, is a guy that has a show on CNN. Like, I think I may actually have a show on CNN, because it's that easy to get. So that's not really prestigious. I bet that there's, there's more famous people from East Stroudsburg University than there are from Drexel. It's a private institution, it was founded in 1891, got about 12,000 students, the campus is 96 acres, but as we'll come up later, it's not, like, a self-contained type of thing. It's downtown. According to U.S. News and World Report, it's number 98 in national universities. It's in a tie for number 98. So top 100, and it's number 95 in best value schools. Pretty impressive. Yeah, right? I mean, if you said, oh, I want to be in the top 100, I mean, it would be good in most cases, not in Fortnite, because you could just be the first fucker that dies. Like one time I landed on a drone and thought I was all fucking smart, and then I chopped the drone with my pickaxe and fell to my death. So I was dead before anybody else even hit the ground. Anyway, can we talk about the case, Grace? Let's do it. All right. And this is going to be very interactive. I'm going to ask you what you think about a lot of these things. I'm excited. All right. You said this wasn't going to be a mystery, so I'm in. Well, I mean, it's going to be a mystery until I tell you the fucking answer. Okay. Okay. At least there is an answer. We're not left to, like, wonder who shot the horses. I really think that I should have put the Must Like Mysteries thing on the application to be... I'm going to have to get, like, a side chick to do the mystery one. I do love a good mystery, but I just hate not knowing. But that's the fun part. You can just make up the answer and always be right. Like the Zodiac. I want to know who the Zodiac is. Well, yeah. That would be a good one. All right. So that... I'll give you that. That'd be nice to know, I guess. Mm-hmm. Now that we're in Philadelphia, at Drexel University, we're going to go back in time to November 30th, 1984. November 30th, 1984, absolutely nothing happened historically. I mean, other than if you were a loved one or someone who loved Deborah Lynn Wilson, then that's a very significant day for you. But for everybody else, not so much. Because you know usually there's, you know, the Treaty of Fartopolis was signed or something. You can always find something that happened. This, nothing. Just a slow news day. But Deborah Lynn, who was a student at Drexel, was found dead at the bottom of a stairwell in Randall Hall, right there on the campus. Oh. Now the Drexel University newspaper, which, college newspapers equal good journalism. I know because I was on the paper. So basically I'm just saying that I was good at it. Since everybody that's on the school paper is trying to become an actual journalist, like, they go fucking hard and try to, like, do really good stories. You can learn so much more. Like, you know how everybody's fucking flapping their arms about, oh, Columbia, why don't you do the rule of thumb? If it's protesters and people are complaining about the protesters, always go with the protesters. Always. Because, well, not Charlottesville. But usually the protesters are right. They were right about Vietnam. They were right about equal rights. They were right about Occupy Wall Street. They were right about apartheid. They're right all the fucking time. Just because all the fucking dingbats in power don't want to hear it and label them agitators and then step on their fucking heads. If you could get a hold of a Columbia, like, campus newspaper, I bet you would find way more truth than reading the fucking New York Times and certainly the Post. But, as usual, I digress. Here is the account from the Drexel newspaper. Wilson, who was found beaten and strangled, was working last Thursday evening in basement computer laboratory 37, preparing a project due the next morning. Twice she took time out from her studies to telephone her parents, assuring them she was safe. At approximately 9 a.m., less than eight hours after her second call, she was discovered by two university students some 125 feet away from the lab where she had been working. Police theorized that Wilson was killed somewhere inside the building and was then dragged outside into the stairwell. The body was fully clothed except for shoes and socks, and there were no signs of sexual assault. Her quilted gray coat had been placed over her body. Examination. So that's the end of the quote from the story. A lot of questions already. Keep going. Well, bring the questions. I mean, where were her shoes and socks? Why does she have no shoes and socks on? She was doing research. Why did he take those off? Like, ew. A, they were not there. Why pull her into the stairwell? Obviously, you're not getting rid of the body, so why just take it that far? Why not, you know? I don't disagree. Physical examination of the body revealed she had severe bruising on her face. There were ligature marks on her neck, and she had foamed at the mouth, which usually means strangulation. An electrical cord was found somewhat nearby, as was a brick. Okay. But you know what wasn't found? Her shoes. Other than her shoes and socks. Oh. What? There was no evidence of sexual assault. Okay. Her pocketbook was still there. Her clothes weren't even messed up, but her feet were bruised. And I should mention that her backpack was missing, but it turned out that someone had dropped it at Lost and Found, which means all traditional motives seem to be out the window. Yep. Because if someone murders somebody, it's sex, money, or revenge. Those are your top three topics. Mm-hmm. It's true. Four for funsies, you know. You can't rule that one out either. True. But if killing people is your hobby, then that's... So sex, money, revenge, hobby. Mm-hmm. Right. So here is what we know, other than the stuff I already told you. She'd been grinding for a product that was due Friday. She had two guy friends there. One of them was her boyfriend. They left around 1.30 a.m. because they were fucking weak, and she stayed grinding. Now, Desmond Tycho told investigators he left her alone to study and asked security to escort her to her car due to safety concerns. And depending on what your college experience was, some people may not be familiar with the concept of, like, this hybrid school. There's commuters, and then there's people that stay on campus. Like, I went to Fordham, and, like, a huge amount of the student body was people from New York City that commuted and went home every night. You know what I mean? Mm-hmm. Like, they didn't stay in dorms or anything like that. They're like, when I can just stay in my own house. Yeah, save money. Right. So, Debra was a commuter. Now, the next day, he was supposed to meet her that afternoon, but she didn't show up. So, he, being a smart fucking guy, he went to the parking garage and saw that her car was still there. Since he had already found out that a body had been discovered that morning, he called the police and said, I can't find my friend. As it turned out, Desmond Tycho, the boyfriend, was the guy who identified Debra's body. Perfect. Because they were like, well, you should probably come and see if this is your girlfriend. And he's like, okay. I'm going to have a look-see. Right. And it was, and that's that. Now, according to the campus newspaper, the school president, they had, like, this town hall thing, and they were talking about security as a result of this. The cops had not ruled out a member of the, quote, Drexel community as of that point, and they suggested that students use the buddy system until more was known. If you think about it, the buddy system would probably save most of the people that we cover on this fucking show. Oh, for sure. Unless it's, like, Jonestown or Heaven's Gate. With cults, not so much. The buddy system doesn't really work. Yeah. No. But in lots of, where do we start getting into missing 411? Then you're going to be like, oh, these, all these motherfuckers should have been buddied up. But... I mean, I embrace the buddy system. I do not go to the bathroom by myself. You just cannot be too careful these days. But, who... I'm like, I got to pee. Who's coming with me? Well, what if it's just some murderous stranger that says they'll come with you? Oh, no. I have to know the person. You know, you go out with people. You know. You don't go out with me. We could. But we're not good enough to go. Sad. We totally can't. I want to go see Abigail. That's true. I'll consider it. Now that I know. Now that I know you need help going pee. Anyways, the school offered a $10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person who did it. Which I actually think is pretty baller. Because usually you wouldn't think that a college would do that. A free semester would have been better. Well, yeah, but what if it was... What if it was somebody that didn't want a free semester? They're like, thanks. I'm already a doctor. I just want my $10,000. They also said they were going to invest in better lighting and expand the night escort system. See, they had these big medieval knights that would... No, not really. They would just have security guards bring people to their cars. That was what the night escort system was. Mine is better and cooler, but that's something they did. I mean, who would bother you if there was a big fucking guy with armor and a giant sword clanking around next to you? Like the guy from, like, Silent Hill? You know, like the... Well, not Pyramid Head. No! No one would screw with you then. Well, no, but I just meant like a knight, like a King Arthur knight. Yeah, and that's cool, too. Fine. Well, here's how the security worked at Drexel. They had guards around the clock. From 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., they had 13 security guards. From 4 p.m. to 12 p.m., they had seven. From 12 p.m. to 8 a.m., they had 20. And this matters because they had the most guards at the time when this happened. You know what I mean? I hate to bring up my school again, but this is all I know from campus security. Because of where Fordham was located, it was like a... It wasn't like a... It was a fortress. You couldn't go on the campus unless you had an ID. The only time somebody did go on the campus without an ID, it was because the Albanians, well, the Albanian community, hated all the students, and there were some Albanians chasing a student, and the student ran onto campus, and the security guard was like, Hey, you guys aren't students. You can't chase this guy onto the campus. And they just fucking hit him with a bat and broke his arm. They didn't give a fuck. Oh, wow. But that's not as... I mean, they didn't fucking kill anybody. As a matter of fact, a student killed one of them, and that's a story for a different time. Oh. Yeah. One of the security guards said he was going to check on her because that was like his beat, but he heard the printer going on in the computer lab, so he left her alone. And this was 1984, so the printer was a big, fat dot matrix thing going, and it had those lovely perforations on the sides that you could peel off. Oh, the fun part. Oh, yeah. So if I heard that, I'd be like, Yeah, no, there's shit going on in there. I don't want any part of it. Now, Deborah's last keystroke, she was a math major, by the way, her last keystroke was recorded at 1.38 a.m., mid-sentence. Hmm. That was just a little while after Tycho, her boyfriend, and the other dude left. So this one security guard, you know, that it was his building, they were obviously asking him the most, and other witnesses said that he was at his desk from like 1.40 to at least 2.15, and he had a little clock thing. The little clock thing was, and I guess I've got a question for you, Grace, you're going to tell me, and I want everybody at home to think about this. You're a security guard. Okay. You're supposed to go on patrol. Mm-hmm. They give you this little fucking clock thingy, whatever, so that you can, I don't know, like, prove that you were in, you know, checkpoint 7 or whatever at such and such a time, because you're going on patrol. Mm-hmm. Right? Yeah. So you can say that it's, you know, number one, it makes the security guard patrol, but that implies that you hire security guards that didn't want to go on patrol, and, you know, you always see in movies that, you know, the security guard is like sleeping at his desk or whatever like that. Mm-hmm. This clock thing would make it so they'd be able to prove that he wasn't sleeping at his desk because he had to go around and do all these little checkpoint things, right? Right. So do you think that this is overall a good thing, or do you think that security guards should just be trusted? Um, this is a great question. Uh, I don't know. Maybe if I was like, so let's say I had to pay for these security guards. Do you know what I mean? At least it's a peace of mind that I could have a report printed out and being like, okay, I'm paying X amount of dollars, and I know for sure that they hit this target every 15 minutes all night long. Right. So it's kind of just insurance. I mean, actually, you bring up a good point because insurance, like say somebody robbed your, I don't know, computer lab, like anybody could steal one of those fucking old computers. You know, you'd be able to say, no, we had proper security measures, shitty insurance company that doesn't want to pay. Mm-hmm. Because you'd be able to prove it. So yeah, I guess there's a lot of pros to it. I mean, I just don't like the idea of, you know, here, I'm going to hire you to do this job, and then I'm going to be a dickhead about it. Mm-hmm. You know, and micromanage you. But I guess in this narrow sliver of an instance, there's probably more pros than cons. So now we go to the suspects. Number one, the boyfriend. Always the boyfriend. It's always the boyfriend. Mm-hmm. Or the husband. Desmond Tycho. Tycho's a weird name. But obviously, since he was the one that fucking said she needs to be escorted, and also he was the one that called the cops, they were like, yeah, no, we really don't think it's him. Then there was another guy whose name was Enrique String. That shit sounds made up. It really does. That was worse than Tycho. It sounds like a, it sounds like a, like if you had to randomize your name in a video game. String. Yeah. Enrique String. Well, anyway, he was an art student, and he had a history of aggressive behavior towards women. And so the cops looked at him, and then they were like, he was fucking nowhere near. Basically, I think they were just asking around, going, who do you think would have maybe strangled a gal? And people said, oh, Enrique String, for sure. Matter of fact, he probably used string to do it. And he was cleared. And then, really, all you got left is the security guys. Bronson Ziegler, Bryce Chapman, and David Dixon. And David Dixon was the guy I was telling you about before. The guy that they had seen at the desk and everything like that, and heard the printer and all that kind of shit. Oh, yeah, yeah. Right? So you got a murdered woman. Mm-hmm. No motive, and no physical evidence. Because it was 1984. They didn't have DNA. I mean, everybody had DNA. It's just nobody knew what to do with it. Taste it. Save it for later. Yeah. So the cops were like, well, we can't solve this case. And usually, I would be all up their ass. But in this instance, their asses can be left alone, because, to my understanding, they followed up every lead they had, and they had nothing, basically. Because they couldn't – all the people that they considered were suspects, they had alibis. They were, you know, where they were supposed to be, you know, et cetera, et cetera. So the family of Deborah Wilson had nothing. It's like, oh, well, she got murdered, and nobody knows who did it. So that was 1984 that that all happened. In 1992, the Vidocq Society, which was based in Philadelphia, decided to look at the case. Now, the Vidocq Society is fucking fascinating, because they're named after this guy, Eugene Francois Vidocq, which – and I always shit on people for mispronouncing things – everything I know till this point is Vidocq. So if it turns out that it's Vido or something like that, I apologize. I tried to find out how to pronounce it correctly. This is the best I can do. All they are is a crime-solving club. They're like the Scooby Gang, but they happen to be made up of, like, real detectives and experts and shit. And their whole deal is, we'll look at cold cases, because maybe there's something that people missed. And since we're all, like, top of our fields, maybe we can find something that people missed. And they picked up the Deborah Wilson case. And, you know, you got to go through the evidence, blah, blah, blah. And they were like, you know, many years from now, Graveyard Grace is going to say, what the fuck happened to the shoes? I really want to know what happened to the shoes. So did the Vidocq Society. Maybe it was like a trophy, they took it with them. Well, they were like, this is the significant part of this, there was no sexual assault. She wasn't robbed. She was just murdered. And her shoes were gone. And one of the other many cool things about the Vidocq Society, they won't allow any more than 82 members. Because this guy, Eugene Francois Vidocq, who kind of, he was like the first private detective. He started out as a criminal, and then he became a cop, and then he became a private eye, so he's like, we might be able to do a show just on him. He died when he was 82, so the people in the society were like, well, that's as many people as we can have, because that, like, 82 is the top. Oh my God. So, they go through all the evidence. The only thing that doesn't make any sense is the shoes and socks thing. And they suckle them back through the witnesses. You got to go through their statements. You got to verify their statements. Now, remember the guy, the security guy that said, I was going to go check on her, but I heard the printer, so I didn't. Uh-huh. Now, this would have been about 1.30 a.m., but then they look through, and this is how shit gets missed. Cop A took that statement. Cop B took a statement from some other guy that said, for some reason, like offhandedly, the printers in the computer lab all shut down at 10 p.m. So you can't use them anymore after 10? Can't use them. There's no late night printing for you. Oh, God. But that means that the security guy was lying. Ooh, at 10, I was just like, what? Why can't you print anything after 10? There's your outrage. What the fuck? Yeah. Remember, they probably shook the whole building and local residences. Good point. Eh. Good point. I was like, this poor girl is working at 1 o'clock in the morning, and she can't even print out her paper. No, you can't fucking print. You can't hand in anything that you would print on that big green and white paper that's like two feet wide just for numbers and such. So they go back to Dixon, the security guy. They found out his name was Sergeant David Dixon. He was in the Army Reserves, and he actually headed up a local recruiting station. And after he got done being a campus security guard, he just went back into the regular Army because he started in the Army. Then he got discharged, did the security guard gig. He was a reservist. Then he went back to the Army. They're looking in the – turns out he had been court-martialed from the Army the first time he went in, in 1979. Not really sure why they let him back in, but that's beside the point because guess what he was discharged from the Army in 1979 for? I don't know. What? Burglary. Oh. Guess what he stole? Shoes. He was accused of breaking into a female Army soldier's home in Korea and stealing her white sneakers. Oh. He was also suspected of a string of shoe thefts at the Philadelphia Naval Base where he lived. He's got a shoe thing. So there were a bunch of, like, military wives that are like, someone keeps stealing my white sneakers and my gym socks. Ew. But, of course, because it was women saying something happened, the military leadership disregarded him and said that the spouses were just crazy and acted up because their husbands were away. This was 1980s. Not 1880s, but that was their fucking – I mean, honestly, I don't know how much the cops have going on to go, well, we better track down this shoe thief. But it was important because the Viaduct Society was like, oh, things are starting to come together now, huh? And they probably, like, tented their fingers while they were sitting in their big, luxuriously upholstered chairs. Then they dug a little deeper and they found out that Dixon was fired from a pharmaceutical company for sending a co-worker a sexually explicit letter and whispering over the phone that he was going to rape her. Oh, my God. I don't get the order of those. Like, I don't know which came first. I mean, I have to assume if you're going to go down, like, crazy person logic, I bet it would be, well, how about I send you this sexy letter and tell you all the stuff I want you to do. And then when you write back, dear David, stop. Never write me again, stop. Or whatever it was she did, then you call her and say shitty things to her. The other way around doesn't make any sense. So the police searched his home and they found multiple videotapes containing, quote, foot pornography. And I did not look that up. I'm going to go out on a limb and say you can't have foot pornography if the only thing involved is feet. It's got to be feet doing something else, you know. But he had it. And he also had more than 20 pairs of individually wrapped white sneakers in the storage unit. Individually wrapped? Yeah. And what had poor Deborah Wilson been wearing that night? White Reeboks. Nothing but the white Reeboks. And I, since it was 1984, I almost guarantee you that she had acid washed jeans and they were kind of like, not high top Reeboks, but like three quarter. I can fucking see it plain as day. And her jeans, the waistband was like halfway between her belly button and her rack, because that's just how it went. Why fucking people in the 80s were so terrified their pants were going to fall down. And thick socks. Yeah. So they find all the foot porn. And here's what the cops decided happened. Since Dixon was working that midnight to 8 a.m. shift, one of the outgoing security guards had asked him to make sure to escort Deborah to her car. For some reason that made Dixon mad, and he decided he was going to steal her sneakers. I don't know where the jump is from that, but they had enough circumstantial evidence to arrest him, which they did in 1993. And they tried him for the murder of Deborah Wilson. All for the sneakers. Well, the sneakers and the porn and the lie about the printers. You know what I mean? Yeah, but he killed her just for the sneakers. Well, yeah, well. I mean, you can really go to a Goodwill and probably get a whole bunch of sneakers. Right, but they're not fresh. Ew. Here's what he said. Here's what he said in the trial in 93. Not a fucking thing. Didn't open his yap. Because you know what you say to cops? Nothing. Nothing. Get me my lawyer. And maybe a sandwich. But nothing else. And a drink. Don't say anything. Just don't. And it ended up hung jury. Because they didn't really have any actual physical evidence. Well, that's because she didn't have the DNA then. I mean, if we could tell that that was definitely her shoe, that would be like the smoking gun, would it not? Well, sure. That's very true. But since it was a hung jury, they got to try him again. Uh-huh. And that's where it kind of got fucked up. Because he was still in jail, but this time he talked while he was in jail. Oh. And I don't know why anyone who did a crime ever thinks that the best thing that they can fucking do is tell their goddamn cellmate what they did. Uh-huh. Because it never works out. Uh-huh. I'd fucking rat in a heartbeat. Well, I guess it would depend on what it is. Nah, I'd rat. If it was going to get me out, I'd be out. Like, that quote that I read from the beginning? Uh-huh. That was from his cellmate. Oh, that's funky. Johnny Hall. Johnny Hall had a lot to say. He said Dixon told him that he, Dixon, had been employed in the Army as a sergeant for 17 years. Somehow they owe him $100,000 in back pay. I don't know why that would be, but whatever. He said that he learned how to commit thefts at the Philadelphia Navy Yard while he was assigned there. The only reason he did it was to steal sneakers and shoes from women. And that he had done it lots of times. He was just a foot guy. But, like, apparently, remember how they were individually wrapped? Uh-huh. I'm pretty sure the reason that they were was because he liked smelling them. Yeah, I mean, you want to lock that scent in. Keep it fresh. So now this is what John Hall said. This is the fucking, like, definition of hearsay. But I'm here, so I'm going to say it. Dixon said that Ms. Wilson was terse with him. Oh, wait a minute. I'm going to go back a little bit because I'm going to start it from the beginning. Because then you'll see, this is why if anybody goes, no, no, man, it doesn't matter. Because you don't know which one you're going to get. You don't know if you're going to get, like, the security guard that says, well, certainly I'll drive you, I mean, walk you to your car because I want you to be safe and this is my job. Uh-huh. Or you're going to get, he used to see Deborah Wilson and try to talk to her, but that she was uninterested. Eventually his urge and his anger got the better of him, and he states that he had a window of opportunity because of his co-worker security guard's schedule for that hour of the night. Because remember, the clock thing. Mr. Dixon then entered the computer lab in the basement and tried to strike up a conversation with Ms. Wilson after he saw her male companion leave. And he even tried to make it about computers, which he said he thought would be common interest. So he probably said, hey, you know, the Drexel Apple computer was built in 1984 specifically for Drexel University or something like that. And she's like, I got a fucking paper due at nine in the morning. Get away. Uh-huh. He said Ms. Wilson was terse with him again, said she had a lot of work to do and cut it right the fuck off. So at about 2 a.m., he said that he watched her bend over and take articles out of a burgundy colored book bag holder. Now it was just stuff that, you know, she had to take out because she was studying. And he said he thought to himself, she's just acting like she's so intently involved in work that she's going to blow me off. But he just kept watching her like a fucking creeper, looking at her ass. But then as he walked to make his rounds, it wasn't her ass that really did the job for him. He saw her white Reeboks and all the way around his rounds, he said he thought about what a stuck up bitch she was. And plus those white Reeboks. So he went back to make sure that nobody was around. And then, this is the part that I don't fucking believe because I don't think anybody would ever say this for real. He said that he gave her a karate chop to the left side of her skull. Now he said that he was very good at martial arts. Maybe threw in there that his hands were registered with the FBI as lethal weapons, but I don't know. And she didn't see him coming. The karate chop knocked her down. And then, like, at that point, he's like, well, I don't know how to explain this. So, like, so many fucking idiots. So many goddamn incel fuckwit. He's like, well, I guess I'll kill her. And he killed her. Then, he took her sneakers and her socks off and began to have sex with her feet. This is all from the letter. I'm not coming up with this on my own because if I was going to do this, I would go to another town and live there because I shouldn't be in regular society. Nope, he said. Having sex with her feet he described as an oral act of caressing, licking, smelling, rubbing with the shoes. He masturbates, but never describes any penile contact with the feet or the shoes. Which, now I don't understand why her feet were bruised. Also, I don't think that counts as having sex with her feet. Now, mind you, I'm not, this guy is a fucking piece of shit. Not because of the foot stuff. Because he killed her. But I don't think, if you're holding some shoes and whacking it with the other hand, I don't know how you get to say that that's having sex with the shoes. You know what I mean? Yeah. Like if I, like if I, if I, like the next Mad Monster, Juliette Lewis is there. Right? Yeah. You know, from, from, uh, Natural Born Killers and, and Cape Fear and everything like that. She's all awesome. Like I don't think if I, if I decided, or like the Million Dollar Man at the last year, if I went up to the Million Dollar Man and asked for his autograph and shook his hand and came in my pants when I shook his hand, I don't think I can count that as having sex with the Million Dollar Man. Nope. Nope. Don't think that one counts. Even if I had my other hand jammed down in there just going to town, it still doesn't count. You probably can't go back to Mad Monster then. Hey, I paid. So. Can you imagine? What do you want me to sign it with? A sharpie? Nope. This big giant feather. And here's what you're going to use for ink. That's right. It was my jizz. Wreckler. And so. He straggled with the electrical cord that they found nearby. Put her in the stairwell. Then he said that he kept her sneakers for a year or so and would masturbate to them. And, as more insult, he stated that he would celebrate the occasion of her death and his evasion of capture by writing sexual foot fantasies on his computer. Which I guess they didn't find because that would have been pretty good evidence. Oh, yeah, for sure. And I want you to know that I had to, like, gird my loins to even do this fucking episode because there's just too much foot. Like, any foot involvement in any of our cases is just unacceptable. But this, the whole thing, this is what I do for you. It is above and beyond. Graveyard Grace. It's true. Not a mystery. You went out of your comfort zone. Oh, I'm way out of it. I need a scotch. So, anyways, big surprise. He was convicted. The second time. After they had this, you know, letter. Well, this is a letter from a criminal. But it's also very detailed and it also kind of fits in. Also, apparently they think that, aside from his expert karate chops, he probably hit her in the head with his little fucking clock thing. That kind of is the worst part of the whole thing. Well, I know. Her dying is the worst part of the whole thing. But using the thing that is your... It's just terrible. Terrible, terrible, terrible. But, for longtime Strangeful fans, that wouldn't be the first foot murderer that we had in the whole thing. Jerry Brudos, a long time ago, up in Oregon, he did himself a foot murder. His feet were a large part of the whole murdering part. He was known as the shoe fetish slayer, by the way. Whereas, in Sweden, Hans Grans was known as the shoe fetish killer. Which is kind of the same thing, but I guess they have to come up with new names. They can't do shoe fetish killer two. He killed two women in the 70s, and he kept their shoes as trophies. Which is what you said right in the beginning. I knew it. Knew it all along. So it's like you cracked the case. And then, the only other thing that I can think of that would make me gag more about this episode... By the way, do you have any questions now? Did I answer all of your queries? You did. I mean, other than moving her into the stairwell. Not really sure why he bothered to move her if he wasn't going to get rid of the body. He was hiding the body to make it seem like he didn't fucking kill her in the computer lab, where he obviously killed her. Because that would have been too obvious. Okay. He was trying to make it, I think, like she was killed outside and then brought back into the building or something. But if you think about it, which you should, everybody should. Everybody should be thinking about the fact that, had the ViDoc Society not gotten involved, the fact that the fucking cops didn't look at everything and see the connection, meant that, first of all, he got away with it for a decade. And because of the mistrial, if he hadn't flapped his fucking lips to the guy in jail, he would have gone free. So think about, starting with OJ and going back in time, how many people fucking got away with murder? A lot. I mean, a bunch now still do, but more than... Oh, by the way, the other thing about the Dixon case, the prosecutor in that case kind of played fast and loose with stuff. Turns out, I found a big article in the Philadelphia Inquirer about how the guy was kind of like a shitbag. Oh. Yeah. So I got information from there, I got information from court archives, a couple YouTube videos, thanks to Criminally Listed, which told the same story but not nearly as fun as us, they got 951,000 subscribers. Hey, go subscribe to us on YouTube and write nice comments. Or no comments, but just not shitty ones. I know, right? I know. Try to fucking cross me on this, YouTube commenters, and tell me how I got this one wrong. Shitters. Don't be a troll. I mean, if you're gonna be a troll, be good at it. The guy actually helped me the other day because he said, what the fuck does that word mean? And it turned out I had a typo on the thumbnail, so I had to fix it. I'm like, I don't know, I made it in the middle of the night. So that's it. You can go to allmylinks.com slash strangefulthings to get all my links. Because that's what it means. Except for the Etsy shop and Spreadshirt, you can't get those because I gotta update it. But come on by the Discord so I can give you a link, because I need you all to buy stuff, because now I'm a poor. And if we want to keep the fucking show going, you can go to patreon.com slash strangeful, or, I don't know, fucking PayPal us some money. Tie, like, tape a hundred bucks to a brick. Hock it at my head. I don't care. But we're still gonna come back with another episode. Mm-hmm. How come? Because we can't stop. And we won't stop. Peace and sparkle. Bye-bye.