Deep Dive
Shownotes Transcript
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This podcast contains references to violence and suicide, as well as language which may not be suitable for children. Listener discretion advised. It's my very first afternoon in South Texas, and Tim takes me to his office. To get there, we drive past a little donut shop that sells super sugary iced coffee. Then we pull into a strip mall with a Dollar General and a dive bar. Texas EquiSearch is across the street from a field.
where someone's mowing as we arrive. The office's facade is painted to look like a wooden barn with windows and horse stables, but that paint is cracked and faded. It's a little dingy. A passerby would have no clue that Tim Miller has more resources at his disposal than most police departments do. It's inside of this office that I find myself standing next to Tim's employee, watching a video on her desktop computer.
The video is of a prank that Tim played on Clyde about a decade ago. A little backstory. Clyde used to put out four gravestones in front of his house every year for Halloween, and four women were found in the killing fields. So at some point, Tim had convinced himself that the decorations contained a secret message, a winking admission that Clyde committed the murders. The son of a bitch used to, at Halloween's,
He would actually stalk in ways. And he would decorate his house, and he'd have four caskets in the front of his house and all kind of weird shit. His reaction was bizarre. Basically, Tim wanted to get Clyde talking about the decorations in hopes that it might lead to a clue that would crack the investigation open. But he also knew that Clyde wouldn't talk to him, so he sent his best friend, a local journalist, to knock on his door with a camera.
The friend pretended to be filming a TV segment and said that Clyde was a finalist for an award. "I parked up on top, it lights up during the night." "Oh, it lights up at night?" "Yeah. Otherwise you don't see how much it's going to die to." "All 3D trailers I decorate for Christmas." "We've got some pretty good stuff so far." Tim dealt with the worst aspects of human nature on a daily basis, but he still managed to have a sense of humor. This made a weird amount of sense to me. It's basically a coping mechanism.
Tim lived in a world desperately in need of comic relief. But this prank video is jarring. Just that morning, I had stepped off the plane from Newark and into a world of the FBI on speed dial, children coming back from the dead, and the ticking time bomb of an alleged serial killer who'd just been freed from prison. Now it feels like I've been airdropped into a Looney Tunes segment. So one year, I went out there and I got what was in front of my mind. I said, go out there and talk to Clyde. Tell Clyde...
Tim watches this video for what is probably the 100th time. And I start to feel a little bit worried as he laughs to himself. I can't figure out why he keeps returning to it.
This Halloween prank is harmless, especially compared to what Tim believed Clyde did to his daughter. But there's a massive disconnect between the weight of the Killing Fields case and Tim's prank. It frankly feels a bit juvenile. Okay, ready? First off, what's your name? Clyde. Hendrick. Clyde Hendrick. How do you spell that? H-E-D-R-I-C-K. He thinks he's going to win the prize, and I said enough. They're trying to decorate and do it on me.
More crucially, though, the video also suggests that Tim is comfortable staging elaborate productions that put people in potential danger. If he truly believes that Clyde is a serial killer, why would he send his so-called best friend right to that killer's front door? And what was keeping him from doing that to me? I'm Allie Conte, and from Cast Media, this is Vigilante, Episode 2, Fun and Games. So if you're enjoying the show so far, please take a second to rate, review, and subscribe on Apple Podcasts.
That way, you'll be notified when new episodes drop, new people can discover the show, and the people who've been working on the show for a long time will just feel good. Thanks for listening, and now back to the episode. So I said, well, I haven't done so much. You know what? I'll tell you what we should have done. I think we still can. We can go down Calder. Can we go down Calder where the bodies were found? This right here is a property that Abel had. He had 12 acres, and then there's 25. And, uh...
Abel used all of it for Stardust Trail rides. The killing fields are surprisingly developed. A suburban-looking church is a few hundred feet away. Cars whiz by at regular intervals. Subdivisions full of cookie-cutter houses line the streets. Alright kids, we'll go real quick. It actually seems pretty peaceful. YouTube is full of videos of people making trips to the killing fields like it's some sort of terrifying expedition.
In reality, it looks a lot like a small park you might see in any town in America. Tim had even installed some benches as a memorial. Yeah, Laura's body is found right here. It's not exactly what I might picture as the most logical place to dispose of a body, but Tim assures me that the situation was very different in the 80s and 90s. I'd come out at 10 o'clock at night. I'd come out here at 4 o'clock in the morning. There was not an hour in the day at one time or another I was not out here.
and I'd come out here, and I would literally be standing right here and screaming, "You bastard, come and get me. You coward bastard, come and get me." And I'd be screaming. Then I brought my gun out here one night, and I was standing right here. I got a .45, and it's really loud. And I shot six times, waiting for the cops to come.
just to see, but nobody ever came. Nobody ever came. This was a place you could do anything in the daytime, nighttime, whenever in the hell you wanted to do it. In fact, the only person who had any reason to be out here at all back then was a man named Robert Abel. The retired NASA engineer leased 1,000 acres of pasture in the area and also owned a local amusement park he called Stardust Trail Rides. It was the kind of place that had live music, catered barbecue, and hay rides for kids.
By the time the fourth body was found in the killing fields in 1991, Robert came across as a little too eager to help the police. He helped the cops clear brush and let them borrow horses and a backhoe, but some officers got the sense that he might be trying to direct the investigation. I put this cross up a week before Christmas in 1986, and I was digging this hole right here at Postal Diggers and everything. I found one of Laura's finger bones.
A young detective named Pat Bittner brought Robert in for questioning. Though the questioning was fairly routine, given that Robert lived and worked right next to the crime scene, he immediately became defensive and angry. Robert was a strange character. I'm not going to say Robert wasn't strange because he was. Robert had a temper. The concept of a serial killer was relatively new in the 1980s. But by the early 90s, the idea had finally trickled down to South Texas.
My name is David Gomez. I'm a retired FBI special agent, but at the time of this case, I was a supervisory special agent in the Behavioral Science Investigative Support Unit, which is located in Quantico, Virginia, and is generally known at that time as the behavioral science unit that did profiles of serial killers.
Detective Bittner had actually trained with the FBI and was familiar with the techniques they were pioneering. He started working with David Gomez and began to put together a profile of the killer, one that said the culprit was likely to be organized and stick to an area that was familiar to him. We would get autopsy reports from these cases. We would...
read the crime scene, take a look at the crime scene photographs, see if there was anything that we could pick up. But when a body is decomposed or when there's very little physical evidence, now you're kind of grasping at straws and you want to just describe the type of personality that commits these crimes as opposed to trying to speculate on an individual. As an engineer who owned land adjacent to the killing fields, Robert fit that description perfectly.
And lots of times the police will say when they have a suspect in the back of their head, they're going to go, oh, yeah, well, that does sound like our guy. So you've got a suspect pool of 100 possible people, but you describe an individual that limits it down to like five because you can say you're looking for the unique characteristics about this person. And then the detective got a big break. One of Robert's ex-wives agreed to talk. What she said made him even more convinced that Robert was capable of murder.
Robert's ex-wife confessed that he would go into fits of rage and beat horses with a pipe. Then he'd leave their carcasses out in the field and let animals pick away at their bones. Bittner called another of Robert's ex-wives to confirm the story, a woman that Robert had only been married to for 41 days. She told the detective that Robert wasn't just violent toward horses. He'd once threatened to kill her. To Detective Bittner, everything seemed to be pointing toward Robert, and Gomez, the FBI agent,
had told them that serial killers would often keep trophies or mementos from their victims. Bittner pleaded his case in front of a judge, who then granted him a search warrant. In November of 1993, police descended on Robert's property. Over the course of 12 hours, they took thousands of pictures and carted away guns, photos, newspaper clippings, and what appeared to be a human tooth. Bittner fully expected that he was about to solve the case.
Before the raid, Tim Miller had been ruthlessly pursuing any evidence he could find. He had his sights set on his former neighbor in League City, Clyde Hedrick, the man who picked up Ellen Beeson at a nightclub and later told police that she drowned. The police never found any evidence that Robert Abel committed the Killingfield murders. But Tim remained obsessed with him. He would often sit outside of Robert's house at night, drinking and chain-smoking and yelling at this guy.
He left Robert threatening voicemails, too. I had a person that was going to come out there and take you out of the stables and take you to Las Vegas and put you in a sand dune and beat your ass all the way up there and then just put you in a sand dune. Robert eventually sued the League City Police Department for defamation, which is how I found out about all of this. And in that suit, there's a letter that Robert wrote to the League City PD. It reads...
It has occurred to me that the possibility exists that Mr. Miller has decided to personally vindicate the death of his daughter. Time is of the essence. He wasn't wrong. One morning in 1994, Tim showed up at Robert's house with a .357 revolver.
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Those are two of Tim's employees at Texas EquiSearch, Angelina and Tammy. They called Tim as we were driving around to report from some sort of stakeout. I suggested that we go meet up with them later to get a better sense of what it is that Tim does for a living. The front door of the EquiSearch headquarters leads into a carpeted hallway, and directly to the left is Tim's private office.
The giant painting of Laura, his murdered daughter, hangs above his desk. This is where he does the work that brought him to my attention. Since 2000, Tim has run a search and rescue organization responsible for rescuing more than 400 missing people. And this is his command center. There's one of the very original flyers from a robot Natalie. This is two of the Sylvester kids we searched for. Their father murdered them on Father's Day. The list goes on and on and on. Ed Reed.
NFL Defensive Player of the Year. Played for Baltimore. His brother disappeared in Mississippi. And we recovered his body in Mississippi River. A little further down that hallway is where his employees sit. One of them, Angelina, greeted me and my producer there. What's up, kiddos? I got a stranger from New York with me. I got a stranger from California with me. And I'm going to go right in the center. They're just following you around.
Photo albums of people Tim's located and framed newspaper stories about cases he's worked on are on every available surface. The arrangement of the main office is also a bit striking. Three women sit at desks arranged around the room's perimeter, facing a round table in the center. That's where Tim sits, with his legs stretched out and his hands behind his head. I screw up their day when I show up. Just kind of hold court in the middle. Yeah.
I show up at work stops. They get a whole lot more done when I'm not here. Tim's three employees were all from the Houston area, which meant they all grew up hearing the story of the killing fields. They'd all driven down I-45 toward the beach and seen billboards bearing the faces of missing women. Their parents had warned them to be careful at night, or they had warned their own daughters. They'd been taught that danger was a fundamental aspect of existence in South Texas.
They were drawn to EquiSearch and to Tim by the same case that drew me here as well. But then some other impulse took over. Take Tammy, who still worked in advertising sales for AT&T back when she first volunteered with Tim. This is more exciting. Yeah, way more exciting. I thought that was a pretty cool job, you know, at the time because you got to speak with different people all the time and, you know, nothing was...
No two accounts were exactly alike, but then you come over here and it's like, "Oh my God, I can't make this up." And one thing led to another and here I am, ruined for life. I could never go to another job again. It would be too boring. Everyone at EquiSearch seemed to feel that way. The work the organization does is exciting. Sure, the fact that the work is necessary might take you to some dark places, but it's also a little fun. No, we're not bored here. No.
Another employee of Tim's named Mary told me that she gladly commuted two hours each way for the opportunity to work at EquiSearch. And I could relate. After all, I had just hopped on a plane to Texas at the suggestion of someone I didn't really know to investigate a serial murder. That might not appeal to everyone, but it did to me.
And apparently to these women as well. The thrill of the chase, that sensation of pumping adrenaline, of doing something that most people would consider a little dangerous, but also that might actually matter. But I cannot relate to what Tim did. This is a guy who has been reliving the worst day of his life basically every single day for decades. It must have been excruciating every time he picked up the phone and heard the voice of an anguished parent.
It would just transport him back to when Laura first disappeared. But Tim kept doing it. He believes that he's in a massive battle between good and evil, and that he's on the good side. Tim runs EquiSearch out of the goodness of his heart and to avenge Laura's death. But it's also brought him a ton of attention, kind of making him famous. His employees clearly adore him. And they told me that people will just show up at the office from all over the country because they adore him too. Does Tim have fans like that? Well, he has groupies.
We can't talk about that. What, do people just, like, send you love letters, or what is that? No, we're kind of over-exaggerating here, trust me. I don't know, sometimes people show up and they want to be here when Tim's here. I hadn't yet heard about the so-called groupies, but I could easily believe that women were attracted to Tim. As a local hero, a protector of children...
a guy who always carried at least two guns in his truck, in a place that's mostly known for being the site of several women's disappearances. He even met the woman he calls his "part-time girlfriend," Destiny, when she volunteered to help with the search. It was clear that Destiny, and many other people, wanted to be a part of Tim World. But it wasn't just women, necessarily. Men got roped in, too. Like when Tim sent his buddy to Clyde's house for that Halloween video.
So are you still in touch with Chris? No, he's my best. Chris is one of my best friends, has been for a lot of years. Should I email him? We have it. You have it? I played so many tricks on that guy. He actually thought he was going to be a finalist and win at Halloween, but I just set his ass up. Not to mention the phone call he had with his employees, who were on a stakeout.
Overhearing that call was the first time I understood that Tim often conscripted people into doing things that might be dangerous, or at least necessitate carrying a weapon. These two things made it impossible to get a read on the situation. Then again, this combination of sweetness and the macabre was just a defining feature of the world Tim inhabited.
Yes, Tim and his employees clearly had a sense of humor about their work. But everything still felt like a matter of life and death. Because it often was. By 1994, Robert Abel had been all but cleared by police. They'd searched his house for 12 hours. And while they found a tooth, it ended up belonging to Robert.
They found guns, but they couldn't be matched to a bullet found next to one of the bodies in the killing fields. There were newspaper clippings about the missing girls, but they probably weren't what the FBI would consider trophies. After all, if someone was found dead on your property, it made sense that you'd follow what happened next. Although the guy was maybe a little weird, there was no evidence to suggest he'd ever killed anyone. But that didn't stop Tim's harassment campaign. He'd comb every inch of the crime scene in search of a clue.
He'd drink a case of beer and drive by Robert's house over and over. He'd drive right up to his property line in League City and just yell. One day when I did that, I left and then I heard a gunshot and I thought, holy shit, he's shooting at me. And then I found out from his girlfriend's best friend, she called me and she said, what in the hell did you do to Robert? And I said, what do you mean? She said, well, he had a pistol shot
in his back and his belt. And when you left, he pulled that pistol out and he was shaking so bad the pistol went off and shot himself in his foot. So anyhow, then I went by Robert's and he was walking out to his mailbox and not walking good 'cause he just shot himself in his foot a couple days prior. And I said, "Robert," I said, "What in the hell? "You don't have to be scared of me. "Why'd you try to shoot yourself?"
And one morning, he even jumped out of the driver's side door with a gun in his hand, demanding that Robert confess to being a serial killer. When he refused, Tim pushed the .357 against Robert's forehead. This could be the last chance to clear his conscience. It was now or never. But Robert didn't panic. He actually looked weirdly calm. So Tim considered his options. His primary objective was to figure out what happened to his daughter Laura.
If he killed Robert, his main suspect, that might not ever happen. And if Robert was truly guilty, then what good would it do to kill him? He might never feel remorse, never suffer for what he did. I said, Robert, I could kill you right now, but I'm not going to. I said, because if you're dead, we'll never find out who Janet Janet Doe is. And I said, the other thing is, they say that you're a serial killer.
So Tim didn't kill anyone that day.
He lowered the gun, checked himself into the hospital, and decided to assassinate Robert's character instead. A few years later, he rallied 200 citizens of League City to conduct another search of Robert's land, all without his consent. After that, people began shouting "killer" at him when he walked down the street. Robert's trail riding business went under.
Tim also told me that he tracked down the man who owned the land that Robert leased next to the killing fields and managed to convince the guy to turn it over to him instead. I came on his property and Robert came up to me and he had a gun and he said, I got a restraining order against you. I'm calling the police right now and I'm terrified of staying right up there. But there's trees and shit here then. And I said, Robert, go ahead and call him but when you're waiting for him to come, I want you to read this. So I gave him a copy of my lease and, uh,
He was redent. I said, now, Robert, you got 24 hours to get your shit off my property. Months went by, and Tim didn't find anything there. He began to doubt himself. What if he was wrong? What if he helped destroy the reputation of an innocent man? Guilt started to creep in. He was, what his primary concern, and I remember this very clearly, is just generally being branded in the news as
as, you know, a serial killer. Because he was adamant that, "Look, I didn't do this, I didn't have involvement in it, and I don't feel at risk at all because it's just totally false." That's Tim Hootman, who represented Robert in a defamation lawsuit filed against Detective Bittner. I drove to see him in Houston, in hopes that he might shed light on who Robert really was. Hootman was a bit of an unusual character himself.
his office was in a railroad car near downtown that was full of taxidermied animals and philosophy books he owns the url mybadasslawyer.com and takes on strange cases that other litigators are afraid to touch yeah yeah okay i spent a lot of time with him and i feel like i got to know the man uh and i i i would portray him as a um
typical Texan at the time. Back then, now to find a typical Texan, you got to get out there, you know, out in the countryside. But in those days, those small towns, you had your quintessential old-style Texan. And he was one of those guys. Had a hat, had the talk. His family goes way back to the founders of the Texas Republic when Texas first became a state.
And I believe he said that they had signed the Texas Declaration of Independence and other historical documents. And so this linking him to the serial killings on his property was a big deal to him because it messed up his name and he wanted to clear his name. Yep, that's who you think it is. The Grimace Mug. The Hello Kitty keychain. Barbie herself.
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About nine years after Tim put a gun to his head, Robert drove his ATV to some railroad tracks near his parents' ranch, about an hour west of Houston. The train engineer said he saw Robert stop next to the rail crossing and wait for the train, before apparently dying by suicide. I had to break it to his old lawyer. My client killed himself? No, I didn't know that. That's mind-blowing. But yeah, that's really, really, really, it's a shocker to me.
Part of the reason I got in touch with Hootman was to get my hands on some video footage, an old VHS copy of a local news story about Robert Abel that he'd managed to hold onto for 20 years. We watched it together in his office. This is Channel 13 Eyewitness News Tonight.
Exploring the evil among us tonight, we take you to the killing field of League City. That's a field where over a seven-year period from 1984 to 1991, the remains of four young women were found, all murder victims. It was nine years ago tonight that police found the remains of 16-year-old Laura Miller,
But they still haven't found the serial killer they say is responsible for all four murders. Businessman Robert Abel owns the land where the bodies were found. Abel had many of his belongings seized from his home when the FBI and League City authorities searched it back in 19... It's easy to imagine why this kind of coverage might have made Robert distressed.
He'd never even been charged with the murders, and his name was being associated with the phrase "serial killer." Back then, Lake City was kind of like a little country town. Okay, so in the small towns like that, everybody knows everybody. So Robert gets put on TV,
And Channel 13, that's back before Internet and all that. So everyone watched the news. So Robert gets put on Channel 13 with the police spreading around on his property as if he's the serial killer of this notorious crime that had occurred back then. And so it had all the obvious psychological negative impacts on Robert, and especially with his prideness for his historical roots in Texas, you know.
So, as far as I can tell, the police got it in their heads that Robert was a suspect in the Killingfields case because he was a little odd, rented property near where the bodies were found, and fit the FBI's vague description of a potential suspect. The news tarnished his name by implying he was a serial killer, despite no evidence, and he was bullied by people like Tim Miller to the point that he ended up dead.
Robert Abel never backed down from his claim that he had nothing to do with the murders. Here he is in an old 2020 interview from 1998. I didn't do it. I had nothing to do with it. Never in my lifetime did I see any one of those four girls or any of the other 40 girls that they're talking about missing. I have never killed anyone. You take a profile that you could fit to just about anybody and you place it on someone
And basically no more than that profile is what got me named as that suspect. And I want you to know, out of 6,000 photographs, they found two nudie pictures, which you could show in any Sunday school class. He also told 2020 that he and his wife were going through a contentious divorce when she told the police about him beating horses with a pipe. He completely denied that happened, too.
Meanwhile, Tim Hootman, the attorney, claims that his client was targeted for simply being unusual. Robert, with his country accent, chipped front teeth, and long sideburns, didn't exactly fit in at NASA.
He didn't blend into the Texas backwoods either, considering he was a literal rocket scientist. He wasn't aggressive at all. Definitely he was intelligent. He had a whole lot of data in his head. Talking to him, you'd get a lot of very specific data coming out of him. He was very, he talked a lot. He liked to talk.
It's hard to put your finger on it, whatever you think someone's a little bit different. You know, again, I said, you know, maybe I'm quirky. I got my office in a railroad car, for God's sakes. Let me just say, it seems clear that Tim feels guilty about what happened to Robert. There's a story he likes to tell in which he and Robert wave each other down on the road, get out of their trucks, and embrace. And just before we pulled away from the site of Robert's old trail riding business in the Texas killing fields...
Tim told it to me for the first of what would be several times. Fortunately, I had an opportunity before he died to see him right here in Lake City and hug his neck and say, I just hope you can find your heart someday to forgive me, Robert. And we both cried and hugged. And just a short while after that's when Robert committed suicide. I have no idea if this actually happened. There's obviously no one who can corroborate it. But as I'm slowly learning, Tim's a master storyteller.
His anecdotes are well rehearsed, which is not that surprising given how many interviews he's done over the years. But he also seems to drum up genuine emotion upon each retelling. I was constantly left guessing whether Tim was the world's best amateur actor or if his work as a search and rescuer made the wounds over Laura's death feel unusually fresh. So on the way home from the killing fields, I asked him about this dichotomy. If there's a functional difference between the persona of Tim Miller and Tim as a person.
I can really get close to people out there. But guess what? Next week, next month, I'm gone. I'm with somebody else. I know that doesn't make any sense, but there's some truth in it. They don't have to get to really know me. You know, it's okay to know Tim Miller, Mr. Ecclesarch. But maybe you really don't want to know Tim Miller. Because I'm not sure I really want to know him neither. So...
And the more I think about trying to fix it, the more I mind fuck myself and get myself even sicker. Then I mentioned something that became obvious to me during our time at EquiSearch, that Tim seems at ease among women. I honestly meant it as a compliment, but it seemed to strike a nerve. You seem to like to be around women. It seems like the people who work at EquiSearch are all... You know what? Them women working at my office, they don't know jack shit about my life.
But who you are is so tied into what you...
What is it that you're trying to keep separate, like your hobbies? So has Destiny ever been into the office? They don't know her? Yeah, well, no, she was. And then she got too involved with the girls and not in the office, but the other ones out there searching and everything. And it just turned into some big clusterfuck deal. And I told them, I said, you know what? I don't know why the fuck I ever started EquiSearch.
I should have started a goddamn daycare center or I should have been a fireman because I spent half my fucking life babysitting new people and putting out goddamn fires. So I told Justin, you know what, it's not good for a relationship for us to work together and do everything. I said, guess what? At the end of the day, we don't even talk anymore because guess what? We don't have anything to talk about.
We know everything that we both did all during the day because we're together. What the fuck are we going to share at night? How was your day? How was yours? Well, fuck you. I don't know. You've left me all day. Although Tim may consider himself some unknowable mystery, it was increasingly clear that Tim had a preternatural ability to influence people, to orchestrate outcomes, for better or for worse. Sometimes it was harmless, like when he was pulling a prank on Clyde Hedrick about his tacky Halloween decorations.
Other times, it was deadly, like when he managed to rally an entire town against Robert Abel, who then drove his ATV onto some train tracks. But by building Texas EquiSearch, Tim was constantly accruing credibility for his opinions on who committed crimes, especially regarding missing persons cases. He was daily laying the foundation that might support his case that Clyde Hedrick killed his daughter Laura. And to that end, he's gone further than even the police or the FBI have.
Or arguably should. On my first day meeting Tim, he told me about one of the more elaborate ways he's gone about obtaining evidence. It involved gaining the confidence of Clyde's wife, Gladys. We were sitting in his living room when he pulled out the iPhone he's constantly fielding calls on. He read back a long string of text messages that I also read over his shoulder because they were in such an oversized font. So three years ago, I hear that Gladys is in financial trouble.
This is Gladys responding to Tim.
And here's Tim again. I don't have a problem with you. My problem is with Clyde.
The fact that Tim was playing a long game of horse perception
didn't necessarily mean he was wrong about the identity of the killer. To the contrary, he's really put in the detective work when it comes to this case. But Tim seemed to learn nothing from leasing the property out from under Robert Abel, who then killed himself. He successfully took over a house occupied by Clyde's wife Gladys just a few years ago because he wanted to search her house for clues. This all meant I needed to be aware that, to Tim, I might just be the latest tool in his arsenal.
It would only become more apparent that he'd stop at absolutely nothing to get the conviction he wanted. So if you want the house, would you then become her landlord? Would you kick her out? What was the sort of endgame here? No, I wanted her ass thrown out. I was just playing games with her. Next time on Vigilante. I got Tim and I said, you're not going to believe this. I need to get up there. We need to look at this, but I'm not going to go by myself.
This is no joke. I'm getting chills. Like, this is no joke. He taught me how to, if I ever had to stab somebody, it's like Hollywood is so stupid. They always show people with these big knives. It's like you use a short blade knife. You can make several small cuts really fast. And then you twist the knife when you stab them. You twist it to open up the wound. And if you can, try to break the blade off into that person.
Lessons. Vigilante is written by me, Ali Conti. It's produced by Colin Thompson, Trey Schiltz, and me. Editing by Trey Schiltz. Music editing and supervision by Colin Thompson. Mixing and mastering by Matt Sewell. Cover art by Leah Kantrowitz. Our end credit song is called To Walk Alone. It's by Rebecca Rose Harris and Franklin Mockett. Our fact checker is Lauren Vespoli.
A very special thanks to Hannah Smith. This is part two of our five-part series on Tim Miller. ♪♪
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