Ep. 34 | Mother or Murderer
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Hey Prime members, you can binge episodes 41 through 48 of Mr. Ballin's Medical Mysteries right now and ad-free on Amazon Music. Download the app today. On a December evening in the late 1970s, a teenage girl sat at a bus stop in St. Louis, Missouri. Freezing wind whipped against her face and so she zipped up her old worn-out coat and tried to stop her teeth from chattering. When the bus finally pulled up, the girl didn't get on. She couldn't afford the fare and she didn't have anywhere to go.

And so as the sun set, she curled up on the bus bench, hoping she would just make it through the night without getting frostbite. As she laid there in the cold, she prayed for her life to change. She dreamed of having a good job, a warm bed, and a family that loved her. What she didn't know was that in just a few years, she would have all of those things and more. However, that dream life would turn out to be a nightmare.

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From Ballin Studios and Wondery, I'm Mr. Ballin, and this is Mr. Ballin's Medical Mysteries, where every week we will explore a new baffling mystery originating from the one place we all can't escape, our own bodies. So if you like today's story, please offer to remodel the Follow Buttons home for free. But after you do all the demolition, just abandon the job. This episode is called Mother or Murderer.

On July 4th, 1989, 24-year-old Patty Stallings stood on the porch of her home in Hillsboro, Missouri, which is the suburb of St. Louis. She and her husband, 27-year-old David, had recently purchased this house, which overlooked Lake Wawanoka. That night, they could actually see the local Independence Day fireworks show right from their front porch. However, instead of looking up at the fireworks, both of them were just admiring their four-month-old son, Ryan, who cooed as Patty cradled him in her arms.

A sense of gratitude washed over Patty as she locked eyes with her husband. She couldn't believe how much her life had changed in just a few short years. As a teenager, she lived on the streets with nothing of her own and no one to protect her. In her early 20s, she had gotten a job at a convenience store, a 7-Eleven, hoping to turn her life around. But things hadn't really changed until three years ago in 1986 when she had met her future husband David, who worked as a professional plate engraver.

He and Patty had clicked right away, and they got married in 1988 and were soon able to purchase this dream home. The small lake house with white trim and a nice front porch. Because of her husband, Patty was the happiest she had ever been in her entire life.

As the fireworks continued to illuminate the night sky, Patty looked back down at her baby's peaceful face tucked up against her chest. But then, out of nowhere, her baby, Ryan, vomited all over Patty's shirt. Way more than how much babies usually spit up.

But Patty wasn't too concerned. Ryan had suffered from digestive problems since he was just two weeks old, and his doctors had assured her as long as he was gaining weight, he was okay. And Ryan was hitting all of his weight benchmarks, so Patty trusted he would be okay. But still, when Patty went inside to get changed and also to change the baby, she wanted to make sure Ryan didn't appear sick.

He didn't seem fussy or uncomfortable, and he smiled and cooted her as she changed him into a fresh onesie. And so Patty figured everything must still be fine. So she finished dressing her baby, then she changed her own clothes, and then the pair went back outside to enjoy the rest of the fireworks with David. Five days later, Patty woke up in her large, sunny bedroom feeling unusually well-rested. She rolled over in bed to find the other side was empty. David had already left for work.

She checked the clock on her nightstand and saw that it was almost 9 a.m. She'd slept in longer than usual. She listened for the sounds of her son crying for breakfast, but the house was silent. But Patty didn't think much of it. She was actually thankful to have such a nice, quiet, slow morning for once. Patty made her way into the kitchen, she brewed a cup of coffee, and then sat down on the couch. She spent a moment enjoying the peace and quiet, but after a few minutes passed, she started feeling uneasy. It wasn't normal for her baby to sleep this late.

And so Patty tiptoed into the nursery and she found her son lying in his crib, but he wasn't asleep. His eyes were wide open in a glassy stare. His lips were pressed tightly shut and his chest rose and fell way too fast, like he was having trouble catching his breath. Patty's stomach dropped. She'd never seen her son look so sick before. She lifted his limp body out of the crib and almost immediately Ryan began vomiting almost uncontrollably.

Patty was so scared she began shaking. Still carrying her baby, she ran into the living room. She grabbed the phone, but she didn't call 911. She lived far from the hospital and knew that waiting for an ambulance would waste time Ryan probably didn't have. She knew it would be faster just to take him to the hospital herself. So she called the St. Louis Children's Hospital and told the operator she was on her way.

10 minutes later, Patty sped down the highway towards St. Louis. She wasn't familiar with the roads and driving in the city made her nervous. And so as cars honked and swerved around her, she tried to look down at the paper map in her lap to read it, but it was really hard to do that and also drive. As Patty turned around to check her blind spot, she caught a glimpse of Ryan in his car seat. It looked like his chest was barely moving.

Afraid her son was just going to stop breathing altogether, Patty turned back around and just began looking out ahead for any highway sign that might just tell her where to go.

Right up ahead, she noticed a sign that had a big H on it right near an exit ramp, and Patty knew that meant there had to be a hospital close by. So she flipped on her blinker, she got off the freeway, and followed the hospital signs towards the emergency room. It wasn't until she pulled into the parking lot of that hospital that she realized it was not the St. Louis Children's Hospital that she had called. The sign on the building that she was at said Cardinal Glennon Children's Hospital.

But really, it didn't matter to Patty. She was just happy to be somewhere with doctors who could help her son. So she turned off her car, she jumped out, and she opened up the back door, and she reached in, and Ryan's tiny body was just so limp in his car seat. Patty unstrapped him carefully and then picked him up and held him tight to her chest. She could barely hear his shallow breathing as she ran with him inside the emergency room.

Once she was inside, Patty rushed to the check-in desk and explained what was going on. A young nurse arrived quickly and ushered her and her son into the pediatric intensive care unit. The nurse then took Ryan out of Patty's arms and brought him into an examination room. Patty followed, feeling totally helpless.

As Patty walked into the room, she saw her son was already being hooked up to a nasal canula, which is like a thin tube with two prongs that are inserted into the nose. When they turned it on, it sent oxygen into Ryan's lungs, helping him breathe. Within moments, Patty could see her son's chest was now rising and falling normally, and she was so relieved. As soon as the ER doctor confirmed that yes, Ryan was stable now, Patty asked a nurse to use the hospital phone. She needed to call her husband.

Later that day, Patty and her husband David sat by Ryan's bedside, watching him breathe through the tube attached to his nose. After such a frantic morning and afternoon, Patty was totally exhausted. And David, who had left work early to be there, was also very tired. And so as the anxiety of the day began to fade away, because Ryan was very stable at this point, the parents began to nod off.

But before they could fall asleep, an older man in a white coat entered the room. He had graying hair and a round reddish face. He sat down next to the parents and introduced himself as Dr. Stevens, the hospital's chief of pediatrics. Patty couldn't read the doctor's expression. It was like he'd practiced keeping his face totally neutral, most likely so he could deliver any kind of news, good or bad, with some level of professional distance.

Dr. Stevens told the parents that their son, Ryan, seemed like he was going to be okay, but he really wasn't sure what had caused their son's illness. He had ordered some blood tests, but it could take days to run them all, and Ryan needed to stay in the hospital until the results were in. Until then, there was really nothing Patty or David could do, and so Dr. Stevens suggested that they go ahead and actually nod off and try to get some rest.

Three days later, on July 12th, Dr. Stevens strode down the hospital hallway, followed closely by two men wearing black suits. The doctor was totally on edge. In his long career as a pediatrician, he'd seen a lot of shocking things, but nothing like this.

Dr. Stevens eventually came to a stop outside of a room where he knew Patty and David were staying. Ryan was not in the room with them. This was a room just for the parents. Dr. Stevens turned around and told the two men in suits to please wait in the hall for a second so that he, the doctor, could go in first and speak to the couple.

The two men in suits nodded and stayed put, and Dr. Stevens, he took a deep breath, turned around, and then knocked on the door, but then before waiting for an answer, he just opened it up and went inside. Patty and David were sitting on the bed inside the room, looking tired, but also hopeful. Dr. Stevens immediately told them that he had good news. Their baby, Ryan, was going to be okay. Dr. Stevens watched relief wash over both parents, and then Patty asked the doctor, you know, when could they see their son?

Dr. Stevens paused. He knew what he was about to say next was going to start a very difficult conversation. He explained that Ryan's diagnosis, while not fatal, was still very serious and deeply concerning. According to lab reports, Ryan had high levels of ethylene glycol in his system, and ethylene glycol was one of the main ingredients in antifreeze.

It was extremely toxic if consumed, and there was no way a baby of Ryan's age could ingest antifreeze on his own. He couldn't even crawl yet. Dr. Stevens paused to gauge Patty and David's reaction, looking for any signs of guilt or panic, but their faces were blank with confusion. So, Dr. Stevens continued, being very careful to keep his tone detached as he made his meaning crystal clear.

There is only one way Ryan could have antifreeze in his system, and that would be if someone deliberately fed it to him. In short, he was telling the parents that their child had been intentionally poisoned, and Patty and David were the main suspects.

Dr. Stevens watched the parents closely as they finally registered what he was saying. Their eyes went wide and their mouths fell open. He half expected them to begin protesting, but they actually just didn't say anything at all. They just stood there, stunned. Then Dr. Stevens walked over to the door and rested his hand on the doorknob. And then he told the parents that given the circumstances, he had contacted both the Missouri Division of Family Services and the police.

Then Dr. Stevens opened the door to reveal the two men in suits. They were detectives with the St. Louis Police Department and they were here to interview Patty and David. The little room fell silent as Dr. Stevens watched Patty and David stand up and follow the two detectives down the hallway towards two rooms where each parent would be interviewed separately. Nine days later,

Patty stood at her son's bedside in the Cardinal Glennon Children's Hospital. Ryan smiled up at her with no breathing tubes in the way. He cooed and grabbed at the air. Patty wanted to reach down and pick him up, but she was too anxious. Two nurses stood in the corner of the room like guards, watching her every move.

When the detectives had interviewed her the previous week, they'd asked her a lot of invasive questions about her marriage and her baby. They kept repeating that either she or her husband must have poisoned Ryan. The whole thing just felt like some sick joke. Patty insisted she was innocent. She had no idea how her son ended up with antifreeze in his system, but she knew she and David were not to blame.

The police did eventually let them go, and they'd spent every night at the hospital since then, but still, every time Patty left her room, she could feel the staff looking at her with intense suspicion.

Patty turned and made eye contact with one of the nurses standing in the corner of the room. Patty asked if she could hold her baby. The nurse hesitated and then said, "Yes, you can." Patty reached down, but before she could pick Ryan up, Dr. Stevens came into the room. Patty instinctively pulled her arms back. She'd felt like she'd been caught doing something wrong, even though all she really wanted to do was just hold her baby.

Dr. Stevens came over to Ryan's bedside and took a look at him. Patty knew her son had been improving, but she was still kind of surprised when Dr. Stevens said Ryan was healthy enough to leave the hospital. Patty broke into a huge smile at this news. She'd been so confused and anxious, but now her son was healthy again, the police hadn't arrested her and her husband, it sounded like everything was going to be okay.

But then she saw the doctor's expression shift. He explained that Ryan was being released from the hospital, but he was not going home with Patty and David. The police investigation was still ongoing, and until they knew more, Dr. Stevens had to release Ryan into the custody of the state. Ryan was going to be placed in foster care.

Patty was stunned and heart-sick. She'd assumed once Ryan got better, they'd be able to move on. But now she realized this problem was going to be much bigger and go on much longer than she'd anticipated. But more than anything else, she was just worried about some stranger taking her baby home. She had no way of knowing if the foster family would actually take good care of him.

Patty wanted to scream, but looking at Dr. Stevens' face, she knew it wouldn't make any difference. So she turned away from the doctor and sat down next to Ryan's hospital bed, saying she wouldn't leave his side until she absolutely had to. Six weeks later, Patty, David, and David's parents arrived at a state-sponsored child care facility in St. Louis for a visit with baby Ryan. Ever since they'd left the hospital, Patty and her husband had been attending these meetings every Thursday.

Patty was excited to see her son, but she was frustrated that the police investigation still was not over. As long as the police were still looking into Ryan's case, she couldn't bring him home. And so the only time she got with her son were these one-hour-long meetings just once per week. Ryan's foster parents would drop him off at the child care facility and then pick him up as soon as Patty and David left.

To Patty, the whole situation felt ludicrous and backwards, but at the same time, she would much rather spend just an hour with her son each week than no time at all.

Patty, David, and David's parents entered the building, and right away a social worker met them at the door, and she was holding Ryan. Patty's heart leapt when she saw her son. He looked healthy and he smiled as soon as he saw her. Patty reached out and took him from the social worker's arms and carried him down the hallway into a small playroom. The social worker followed the family inside to supervise their visit. For the next hour, Patty, David, and David's parents showered baby Ryan with attention.

For Patty, it was bittersweet. They should have been doing these things at their home, not in some facility. When the hour was almost up, David's parents got up to leave. David offered to walk them to their car, and the social worker went along too. They all left the room, and Patty was suddenly alone with her son for the first time in six weeks.

Suddenly, Ryan began crying. Patty knew he must be hungry, and his foster parents had left a bag for him, so she checked inside of it and found a bottle of formula. She took it out, cradled Ryan in her arms, and began feeding it to him. Patty gazed down at her son, who looked totally content drinking out of his bottle. She held on to hope that she would have him back home soon, and this entire situation would just be over.

Three days after the visit, Patty and David were sitting on their porch looking out across the lake when a police cruiser pulled up in front of their house. Two officers stepped out, walked up, and announced that they had a warrant. They were there to search their home. Patty could see that her husband was about to protest, but she nudged him, basically saying, be quiet, let this happen. At this point, she didn't care what the police did. And the sooner they finished their investigation, the sooner they would realize the parents had done nothing and Ryan could come home.

And so while the detectives searched their house, Patty and David just sat together on the porch, not really saying anything. There wasn't anything to say. They both just wanted this to be over. After about an hour, Patty heard the officers' footsteps coming towards the front door. She turned to look at them and saw that they were carrying a large paper bag with the word "Evidence" printed on the front. Before Patty could even say anything, they told her she was under arrest. She stared at them, frozen in shock.

Beside her, David stood up out of his chair. He told the officers they can't be serious. But the detectives assured him they were. They said there were a lot of things that Patty and David didn't know. That very morning, Ryan's foster parents had had to take him to the Cardinal Glennon Children's Hospital. Once again, he was suffering from symptoms of antifreeze poisoning.

When police spoke to his foster parents, they learned that Patty had been left alone with him during their last visit and she had fed him a bottle of formula. Forensic analysts tested the bottle and found traces of antifreeze inside. Plus, the detectives had just discovered an open gallon-sized jug of antifreeze in Patty and David's basement.

Patty was floored. She couldn't even process what they'd said about Ryan's bottle and the antifreeze in their basement. She was just too focused on the fact that her baby was sick again and back at the hospital. The police pulled Patty out of her seat and put handcuffs on her wrists. She heard them say she was being charged with assault with a deadly weapon. As they led her towards the police car, she craned her neck backwards and called out to her husband. She begged him to drive up to the hospital. One of them had to be with their son.

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Four days after his wife was arrested, David shifted in his chair in the waiting room of the Cardinal Glennon Children's Hospital. For the past four days, he'd been living in his own private hell. He couldn't sleep, he barely ate. He could only think about two things: his wife being locked up in a jail cell and his son sick in the hospital. And in fact, Ryan's condition was much worse this time than it was the last time. This time, he was not getting better and in fact, the doctors had placed him on life support.

A few minutes later, Dr. Stevens walked into the room. The doctor's face, which was usually professional and emotionless, was now drawn. David asked what was going on, and Dr. Stevens couldn't help himself, and he just let out this long sigh. Then the doctor explained that, despite everything the hospital had tried, his baby Ryan was not getting better. The poison had damaged his organs beyond repair, and there was no chance he would recover.

Dr. Stevens told David that if he was religious, that he should think about contacting a minister to baptize his baby Ryan before it was too late. The little boy was very likely not going to make it. These words hit David like a punch. The grief was so immediately overwhelming that he could physically feel it in his chest. But the worst part was he still didn't understand how this was even happening.

David could barely speak, but he managed to whisper out that his wife really needed to be here. Then David just ran to the waiting room payphone, and after calling the jail where Patty was being held, and then also the local courthouse, David ended up talking to the judge in charge of Patty's case. And David begged the judge to please release his wife so she could at least come to the hospital and be with her child during his final moments.

David assumed the judge would have at least some sympathy for their situation, so he was surprised when, without the slightest hesitation, the judge said no. He called Patty a baby killer and refused to let her anywhere near her son. At this point, David's grief turned into rage. He slammed the phone down and crumpled into his chair.

In the span of only two months, his perfect life had fallen apart. But despite what the police and the judge said, he knew Patty was innocent. She adored their son. There had to be a better explanation for what was going on. David took a deep, shuddering breath and then turned to see Dr. Stevens standing there. In a soft voice, the doctor said they needed David's permission to disconnect Ryan from his life support machine. David asked if there was absolutely anything else they could try.

But Dr. Stevens just shook his head and said no. And so, with no other options, David did give his permission. That same afternoon, David went into Ryan's room in the intensive care unit and he choked back tears as a minister baptized his son. And then at around 5 p.m. on September 7th, 1989, David held Ryan as the doctors turned off his life support. David would sit there cradling his baby until his baby slowly passed away.

A few hours later, David had to make one of the most difficult phone calls of his entire life. He had to call Patty in jail to tell her that her son was dead. When Patty heard the news, it was like the whole world just faded away. All she could hear was David's voice, explaining how he'd tried to convince the judge to let her come to the hospital, but he'd refused. David swore he'd done everything he could. He was scraping up money from relatives to hire a good lawyer. He promised he would get her out of jail as soon as he could.

And then for at least a full minute, Patty and David just stayed on the phone saying nothing to each other. As the white cinderblock walls of the jail's call center came back into focus, Patty saw the guard tap his wrist, letting her know her time was up. Patty told David she had to go, and then she hung up the phone and followed the guard out of the room, feeling totally numb. The next morning, Patty awoke to see a gruff-looking police deputy standing right outside the bars of her cell. He was there to give her even more bad news.

Because her son had passed away, her charges were now being upgraded. In addition to assault with a deadly weapon, she was now being accused of first-degree murder. Patty grabbed a pillow and put it over her face. She felt like she'd been dragged into an alternate universe. She just couldn't understand how any of this could be real. The following month in October, Patty sat on a plastic chair inside of the jail doctor's office.

Across from her was a young physician who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world right now. And frankly, Patty felt the same way. She told the doctor she'd been feeling overwhelmed. Her hair was falling out, she was gaining weight, and she wasn't menstruating. At first, she just assumed that the stress of this horrible situation she was in was making her physically sick. But now, she was beginning to think it actually might be more than that.

The doctor did not seem very sympathetic, but he did run a few tests, including collecting blood and urine samples. And while he waited for test results, she went back to her cell. A few hours later, the doctor came by to deliver the news. It turned out Patty was pregnant. Four months later, in February of 1990, Patty gripped the sides of her hospital bed, her knuckles turning white from the pain of her latest contraction. When she'd gone into labor, she was transferred from the jail to a nearby emergency room.

Patty was in a lot of pain from all the contractions, but mostly she was just feeling frustrated and angry because here she was giving birth to her second child and her husband was not even allowed to be there. And also on top of that, she was grieving the loss of her first child. Patty could hear the labor and delivery nurse instructing her to push. And so Patty dug her fingers into the mattress and squeezed her eyes shut and she felt like her body was going to rip open. And then suddenly she heard the sound of her baby crying.

The nurse lifted up the newborn, and with a smile, she announced that it was a boy. Patty softened her grip on the bed. Still out of breath, she said that she and her husband had already decided on a name, David Jr., or DJ for short. Patty reached out for her child, and the nurse handed the baby over to her, and Patty held her newborn son tight against her chest.

But her joy only lasted a few moments because before long, the nurse gave Patty a very sympathetic expression and then reached in and grabbed DJ and then took DJ out of the room. Patty had known this was going to happen. She'd been told that, just like Ryan, DJ would be placed directly into state custody. Now she hadn't just lost one child, she'd lost two. Patty rolled over in her bed, sobbing.

Two weeks after giving birth to DJ, Patty sat in the jail's call center with a phone pressed against her ear. David had called to talk to her, and his voice was tight with concern. He said it was about DJ. Patty didn't think she could handle any more bad news, but she asked her husband, you know, what was wrong, and he said DJ's foster parents had had to take him to the St. Louis Children's Hospital that morning. Doctors said he was going to be okay, but he was extremely sick.

At the thought of her youngest son being in the hospital, just like Ryan had been, Patty felt a knot rise in her throat. She asked David what kind of symptoms DJ had and if the doctors had diagnosed him with anything specific. And as David started listing off all of DJ's issues, Patty had an idea. She told her husband she had to go. She needed to call her lawyer before her phone time was up. David had managed to collect enough money from his family to hire an attorney for Patty.

Since then, she and this lawyer had been preparing for her upcoming murder trial. And in her experience so far, the lawyer tended to be very busy and somewhat difficult to reach. Patty dialed her attorney's number. The phone rang so long she was worried he wouldn't answer, but finally he did pick up. But he sounded breathless and overwhelmed as usual. Patty knew this lawyer had a lot of cases to deal with, but for now, she really needed him to listen.

Patty had a theory that she thought would prove her innocence, that she never gave Ryan antifreeze. The lawyer listened to this theory and then afterwards promised to do whatever he could. Patty thanked him and then hung up the phone. When she stood up, Patty actually felt pretty good. She was actually looking forward to her trial, which was scheduled for early 1991. It would be her chance to prove her innocence, bring DJ home, and put this horrible series of events in the past.

About a year later, in early 1991, so January 31st, David sat in a quiet courtroom gallery, anxiously watching as 12 jurors re-entered the room. After three days of trial and 10 hours of deliberation, the jurors had finally reached a verdict on whether or not Patty was guilty of murdering her son, Ryan.

David tried to stay positive, but honestly he did not feel very optimistic. The prosecution had been led by a tall, imposing man named George McElroy. He was the lead prosecutor in Jefferson County, Missouri, and he had presented an overwhelming amount of evidence against Patty. The prosecution's witnesses had testified that antifreeze had been found in Ryan's blood twice.

The results were confirmed by two different laboratories using two different diagnostic methods. Plus, analysts had found traces of ethylene glycol in Ryan's bottle and also an open container of antifreeze inside of David and Patty's house. All through the trial, David had anxiously waited for Patty's lawyer to present Patty's theory, the one she thought could prove her innocence. The lawyer had tried to make an argument for it, but he didn't call an expert witness to testify.

So the judge wouldn't allow it into evidence and the jury wasn't allowed to consider Patty's theory. David had been furious. It wasn't easy to pay for this lawyer and now he felt like the lawyer had kind of failed and Patty's defense had been a total disaster. But there was nothing David could do now. The jurors sat down in the courtroom and the jury foreman approached a microphone.

David tapped his foot anxiously as he saw his wife at the front of the room standing up, getting ready to hear what this foreperson had to say. Then David heard the foreman's voice through the courthouse speakers. But as the foreman read the verdict, it was like David's brain couldn't process what he was hearing. The jury had found Patty guilty of first-degree murder.

After the verdict was read, David saw Patty collapse back into her chair. He couldn't see her face from his seat. All he saw were two policemen immediately handcuffing her and leading her out of the courtroom. David dropped his head into his hands, feeling a mixture of fury and despair. No matter what the prosecution had said, David did not have a shred of doubt about his wife's innocence. A week later, David was at home when he received a call from Patty's attorney.

he was calling about patty's sentence she had just been sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole david was crushed he hung up the phone and started pacing back and forth across his living room trying to think of some way he could fix this but he just couldn't think of anything four months after patty's trial in may of 1991 david sat in his living room alone

He looked out the window that faced their front yard, and he remembered that night, almost two years ago, when he and his wife were holding Ryan and watching the fireworks. Patty said she couldn't believe how much her life had changed since they had met, and David couldn't believe how much more it had changed since then.

Their first child had died, their second child, DJ, was still living with a foster family, and just like when Ryan was in foster care, David was only allowed to visit DJ once a week for one hour. But David still hoped he could find a way to bring his family back together. David picked up the remote and turned on the TV and changed the channel to NBC. In just a few minutes, the program he was waiting for would come on. He had promised himself he would find a way to make things right again.

Ever since Patty's verdict, he'd been working to get as much publicity as possible. He'd even convinced the producers of a hugely successful television show to cover Patty's story. And as the clock hit 8pm, the opening credits of Unsolved Mysteries the TV show began. David saw his wife's face on the television, followed by pictures of baby Ryan. The narrator began their story, and David leaned back in his chair. He'd done everything he could. Now he just had to hope for the best.

At the same time this show was playing, across town, a geneticist and pediatrician named Dr. William Sly sat at home in his easy chair watching the same Unsolved Mysteries broadcast. As he saw pictures of baby Ryan and listened to interviews with Patty, the doctor found himself totally hooked into this story. He also thought he might be able to help David and Patty. Dr. Sly was the chairman of St. Louis University's Department of Biochemistry.

When he heard Patty explain her theory of why she was innocent on this show, the same theory her lawyer did not present at her trial, Dr. Sly thought it made sense. And if Patty's theory really was true, then Patty really had been wrongly convicted. The next morning when Dr. Sly arrived at work at his university laboratory, he pulled one of his colleagues aside, Dr. James Shoemaker, to tell him about Patty's theory.

But when Dr. Shoemaker heard Patty's name, he stopped in his tracks. He said he'd heard about the case over a year ago, in April of 1990. He also thought Patty's theory sounded viable, so he'd reached out to one of the laboratories that tested Ryan's blood. He'd requested copies of all their lab reports, as well as any samples of Ryan's blood that they still had on hand.

Back then, Dr. Shoemaker had done his own analysis, and his results didn't exactly match the ones that one of the laboratories that tested Ryan's blood had come up with. At the time, Dr. Shoemaker didn't know what to do with this information, but he still had all the paperwork in his office. Dr. Sly's heartbeat quickened. He told his colleague he needed to see those lab results right now. The two doctors raced down the hallway to Dr. Shoemaker's office.

Dr. Sly anxiously looked on as his colleague rifled through a stack of papers on his desk. Dr. Shoemaker grabbed a few sheets and held them out. Dr. Sly picked up the documents and started scanning through them. And as he compared the original lab results with Dr. Shoemaker's analysis, Dr. Sly's jaw dropped. He asked Dr. Shoemaker for a piece of paper and a pen. He needed to write a letter to the county prosecutor.

Four months later, in September of 1991, County Prosecutor George McElroy stood in front of a huge crowd of reporters and a cameraman. He looked to his right and he saw Patty and David standing beside them. Both of them had totally stoic expressions on their faces. Prosecutor McElroy straightened his jacket nervously. This was the most important and most embarrassing press conference of his career. He leaned close to the microphone and announced that he'd done something unprecedented.

He had asked the county circuit judge to dismiss the murder charges against Patty Stallings. He said after reading Dr. Sly's letter and consulting with another independent medical expert, he was finally convinced of Patty's theory. She'd been right all along. Baby Ryan didn't die from antifreeze poisoning. For over two years, Patty had been accused of poisoning her son. But she had never hurt him. Nobody had.

In reality, Ryan had died from a rare genetic disorder called methylmalonic acidemia, or MMA for short, which caused his own body to produce a deadly chemical that was nearly identical to antifreeze. People with MMA can't fully digest food containing certain proteins and fats, many of which are in breast milk and baby formula. When these nutrients are not properly processed, they break down and turn into poison in the body.

This causes vomiting, lethargy, trouble breathing, and organ damage. Patty had told her lawyer that she believed Ryan could have this disorder because his little brother DJ had it too. When DJ had fallen ill, his symptoms were the exact same as Ryan's, but instead of finding antifreeze in his blood, DJ's doctors had found a toxic substance called propionic acid.

Propionic acid is often a telltale sign of MMA. It's also almost chemically identical to ethylene glycol, which is the poison found in antifreeze. The molecules are only different by a few carbon atoms, and so the two are easily mistaken for each other. When Dr. Sly saw Ryan's case on Unsolved Mysteries and then looked over the baby's lab results, this was the tiny discrepancy he found. The substance that analysts thought was ethylene glycol was actually propionic acid.

Tragically, if Ryan had been treated at St. Louis Children's Hospital, where DJ had been correctly diagnosed and Patty was trying to take Ryan when he first got sick, all of this could have been avoided. Instead, the analysts at Cardinal Glennon and the other labs that tested Ryan's blood had unfortunately misidentified this naturally occurring substance as antifreeze, and their incorrect findings had been used to send Patty, an innocent woman, to prison for life.

It is worth noting that the mix-up in going to the wrong hospital would not have necessarily saved Ryan because MMA has an extremely high mortality rate and long-term survival is not very likely. As prosecutor George McElroy stood before the crowd of reporters, he admitted he'd been wrong and then he personally apologized to Patty and David.

He said even though their suffering could not be undone, he would make sure Patty was fully exonerated and she would get to bring her surviving son, DJ, back home. Patty and David filed lawsuits against the Cardinal Glennon Children's Hospital, the diagnostic labs who'd misdiagnosed Ryan, and three different physicians. In 1993, they received an out-of-court settlement for an undisclosed amount.

Their surviving son, DJ, battled the same genetic disorder that killed his brother. And unfortunately, it took his life too in 2013 when he was just 23 years old.

From Ballin Studios and Wondery, this is Mr. Ballin's Medical Mysteries, hosted by me, Mr. Ballin.

A quick note about our stories: we use aliases sometimes because we don't know the names of the real people in the story. And also, in most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but everything is based on a lot of research. And a reminder: the content in this episode is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This episode was written by Karis Allen Pasch-Cooper.

Our editor is Heather Dundas. Sound design is by Ryan Patesta. Our coordinating producer is Taylor Sniffen, and our managing producer is Sophia Martins. Our senior producer is Alex Benidon. Our associate producers and researchers are Sarah Bytack and Tasia Palaconda. Fact-checking was done by Sheila Patterson. For Ballin Studios, our head of production is Zach Levitt.

Script editing is by Scott Allen and Evan Allen. Our coordinating producer is Matub Zare. Executive producers are myself, Mr. Ballin, and Nick Witters. For Wondery, our head of sound is Marcelino Villapondo. Senior producers are Laura Donna Palavoda and Dave Schilling. Senior managing producer is Ryan Moore. Our executive producers are Aaron O'Flaherty and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Wondery.

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