The Murder Book: A True Crime Podcast

Send us a textA father’s quiet exit, a boy who won’t be seen crying, and a farm that demands everything—this chapter traces how fracture and hard work shape a family’s center of gravity. We walk through drafty rooms warmed by wood Jim split himself, goat milk poured for a child who needed it, and the kind of rural routine that makes a marriage feel strong until it doesn’t. When a wool venture scales too fast and the books don’t add up, the bill is paid in dollars and trust. The church that offers community also opens the door to a forbidden bond, and another departure leaves the house tense and airless. He returns for the land and the children, but forgiveness never sticks.At school, structure arrives in the form of a gifted program and a teacher who sees past the camouflage jacket and the long silences. Still, the strongest gravity is a cafeteria table, a grid, and a set of dice. Dungeons & Dragons is not just a pastime here; it becomes an architecture for control and belonging. As dungeon master, Bart builds worlds he can steer—worlds where strategy beats small talk and prestige is earned by craft. Outside, headlines warn about the game’s dangers. Inside this small county, the nuance is sharper: creativity flourishes, grades wobble, and a moral spine that prizes winning over virtue draws concern from the one adult who truly pays attention.Across the hour, we connect the dots between isolation and identity, between chores at dawn and late-night storycraft, between loyalty broken in a church parking lot and alliances forged over character sheets. A new player returns and shifts the table’s balance, hinting at episodes to come. If you’ve ever asked why some kids cling to fantasy so fiercely, this story offers hard, human answers. Subscribe, share with a friend who loves true crime stories, and leave a review to help others find the show. Support the show

Send us a textOld houses hold more than portraits and creaking floorboards. In Caswell County, they carry a family’s rise, their best intentions, and the kind of secrets that echo longer than footsteps. We follow the Upchurch and Moore line from civic ambition and pew-deep piety to a hard turn into illness, widowhood, and a second act as a preservationist matriarch. Carolyn’s restored landmarks shine like trophies, yet the people inside them struggle to hold their shape: sons searching for purpose, a community that forgives its own, and a lineage that both protects and pressures.The heart of the story centers on Jim and Joanne, two gorgeous college kids who trade campuses for vows when choices narrow. Cedar Hill becomes their experiment in self-reliance—gardens, canning, and the hush of rural nights—until career, children, and a move to the historic Thompson House complicate the romance. Their son Bart outpaces his classroom, pushing a fraught switch to an all-white private school that exposes the county’s fault lines around education and class. Meanwhile Jim’s draw to a primitive farmhouse near Hico Reservoir collides with Joanne’s need for people and momentum. Add the centrifugal pull of Jim’s brother Bill and Lydia’s freewheeling, rumor-magnet life, and Joanne’s mother moving close enough to set the dinner table and the agenda, and the gap between partners stops looking temporary.What begins as a love story turns into two lives running side by side, too quiet to fight and too different to meet halfway. The moment of separation is almost gentle: a night of truth, a Carolina-blue pickup, two boys on the back steps, and a wave that feels final. Around them, Caswell’s memory is long and its standards flexible—for some. The whispers that once seemed harmless start to form a darker outline, hinting at where this saga is headed as the Von Stein Family Tragedy deepens.If this chapter pulled you in, follow the show for the next twist, share it with a friend who loves true crime with roots, and leave a review to help others find the story. Your thoughts shape where we go next—what choice do you think changed everything? Support the show

Send us a textA small town’s patience thins as the Van Stein investigation grinds through rumors, leadership shake-ups, and a rare glimpse into what money really changes—and what it doesn’t. We follow the detectives through fall’s slow burn: Donna’s steady account of Angela’s sleep and stoic nature, accounts of Chris’s jittery days and drug use, and a campus subculture of games, steam tunnels, and performative bravado that seems colorful until it turns consequential. The evidence feels stingy—an inconclusive FBI report, a burned V-Buck sneaker with two hairs—and yet those minor details start to pull at a larger thread.Behind the scenes, the pressure is relentless. City hall bristles; a police chief retires; a case manager pushes for momentum. Then the financial truth lands with weight. Leith’s will and trusts protect Bonnie and delay any payout to the children until age 35, cutting straight through any fantasy of instant inheritance. That legal structure reframes motive, not by erasing it, but by revealing how deadly assumptions can be when people act on what they think, not what is. Interviews in Raleigh sketch a portrait of Chris as easily influenced, approval-seeking, and impulsive, surrounded by friends who remember card games, classes skipped, and stories that feel increasingly relevant.The pivot arrives with polygraphs. Bonnie and Angela sit for the exam and clear the bar for truthfulness, while Chris—after consulting a top defense lawyer—does not appear. The circle narrows. We’re left weighing behavior against data, rumor against record, and the uneasy possibility that the clearest path forward lies with the people Chris trusts most. If you’re following the Von Stein case, this is the point where the noise drops and the questions sharpen: Who benefits, who knows, and who finally talks?Enjoyed the episode? Follow the show, share it with a friend, and leave a review to help others find Murder Book. Your take matters—who do you think is holding the missing piece? Support the show

Send us a textRumors don’t just color a homicide investigation—they can steer it. We return to Washington, North Carolina, where whispers of a roadside fire, a condensation-ringed bedside glass, and a fat life insurance policy turned into a map of motives and suspects. As the town’s fear eased, the volume of talk rose, and leaks from inside the department gave everyday gossip the weight of evidence.We walk through the pivotal leads that shaped the case: the discovery of burned items off a country road, the slow creep of financial motives tied to trusts and insurance, and the messy realities of campus life—LSD experiments, a $35 marijuana check gone sideways, and friends with knives, schemes, and late-night dives into steam tunnels. Interviews with Chris’s circle offer clashing portraits of influence and intent, while Angela’s world adds fresh uncertainty with a rumored ex-con acquaintance and a boyfriend who believed the killer knew the house too well.Bonnie stands at the center, scarred yet steadfast, convinced her children could not be part of the crime that killed Leith and nearly took her life. Her faith collides with investigative suspicion as we test each thread—occult calendar dates, strict house rules, jealous colleagues, and an ex-husband facing money trouble—against access, opportunity, and common sense. What emerges is a study in how communities turn fragments into narratives and how those narratives can cloud or clarify the truth.If this story pulled you in, follow the show, share it with a friend who loves true crime done thoughtfully, and leave a review with your take: which lead would you chase next? Support the show

Send us a textA quiet suburb woke to sirens and never slept the same. The murder of Leith Von Stein didn’t just shake a neighborhood; it cracked the illusion that safety lives behind manicured hedges and porch lights. We follow the ripple effects—from a neighbor’s raw letter of shared grief to a town that left lamps burning, phoned in every strange car, and asked whether a killer was still walking among them.As fear swelled, so did the rumors. Some sounded like pulp fiction: mafia plots, undercover identities, even a flock of chickens meant to distract the family’s cats. Others cut closer: talk of strained family dynamics, money whispers, and late-night timelines. We unpack how investigators sift noise from signal, chasing every tip without letting gossip dictate the case. You’ll hear why the decision to route evidence to the FBI mattered, how lab timelines clash with public impatience, and where forensics can turn speculation into hard fact.The civic storyline is just as gripping. A newly installed city manager faced a flood of anxious calls while an old-school police chief bristled at oversight. That tension shaped trust, transparency, and the way information flowed through the community. Interviews with friends, classmates, and first responders layered in behavioral details—Dungeons & Dragons obsessions, alleged drug use, flat affect under stress—that demanded careful interpretation rather than snap judgment. Along the waterfront festival crowds danced as whispers followed the Von Stein children, proof that life and dread can share the same street.If you care about true crime beyond sensational headlines, this story lays bare what happens when fear moves faster than evidence. Press play to dig into community psychology, investigative discipline, and the fragile line between theory and truth. If the episode resonates, share it with a friend, follow the show, and leave a review to tell us which detail shifted your view. Support the show