Lemonada.

The man who killed 24-year-old Buddy Booth didn't know him. He didn't know he had a wife and two young daughters. And that man had no idea that shooting the delivery driver who just happened upon the scene of a murder the morning of March fifth, 1982, would rob Buddy Booth's family of the most stable thing in their lives. Buddy's widow, Carla, was just 23, and now solely responsible for the survival of their little family. Baby Dana would not have any memories of Buddy, though she looked just like him. But four-year Caroled Norma, she'd been the center of her dad's life, so she really felt the absence of her father.

She always wondered where her dad was, why he wasn't coming home. And it took me a long time before I even said anything to her.

Adrift in grief and uncertainty, Carla didn't have a job, and she couldn't bring herself to return to the apartment where she and Buddy hoped to build a life. She and the girls spent the first week or so with Buddy's family, and then they moved in with her mom and stepdad for a couple of months. Carla was focused on survival. There was no time for grieving or money for counseling. She could barely cope with what was happening. How could she explain what was going on to a four-year-old?

My parents would say, Carly, you really need to take her to the gravesite and let her see her dad. I said, She's not ready. She's not ready.

But about a year after Buddy's death, the questions were getting harder not to answer, and Norma was getting older. So It felt like it was time. Carla decided the best way to explain Buddy's absence was to take Norma to the cemetery where her father was buried.

Finally, around when she was about almost five, I decided to take her there.

They walked up to his headstone, and Carla told Norma, This is where your dad lives now.

She kept looking around, kept looking around like, looking for him is what she was doing. I sat by the graves for a little bit, and she wouldn't sit down. She just kept looking, waiting for him to come.

Norma was distressed, confused. So Carla decided it was time to leave. She took her daughter by the hand and began leading her to the car. Norma didn't I want to go. She tried to tug her hand free.

And she goes, Mama, wait. Mama, wait. I want to see my dad. I told her that her dad lives here and that he's in the ground.

Carla pointed at the stone that marked Buddy's grave.

And that broke her heart, and she just cried and cried. And I knew then she wasn't ready for it. And I felt like I had made a mistake taking her there.

Maybe Norma remembered the times her parents lived apart when they were fighting. Maybe in her five-year-old mind, she thought her mom was just keeping her away from her dad again. Either way, she blamed her mother for the pain she felt, the loss she didn't understand.

She was angry with me for a while, thinking I took her away from her dad again.

But the full impact of losing her dad at such a young age wouldn't become clear to Norma or Carla until many years later. Michael Moore's decision to kill Buddy not only left his children without a father, it set in motion other decisions that triggered an avalanche of compounding trauma. Carla Booth wanted her husband's killer to be executed for his crimes. Instead, he was given two life sentences in prison. But what the families of the murdered men were about to realize is that a life sentence doesn't necessarily mean life behind bars. Almost exactly one One year after a jury saved Michael Moore from the firing squad, he was going to make another plea for mercy. But this time, he would make a case before a parole board.

I don't know what I could do. I wish we could go back and redo it. I would never put myself in a position I would have done without that.

As Michael Moore tried to persuade a new group of strangers that he deserved early release, he also pursued an appeal of his conviction. So the Utah Board of Pardons and Parole had some tough questions for him, and he was prepared to answer them all. What really led to the murders? Did he have any remorse for gunning down two young fathers? And did he understand the damage he'd caused? From KSL podcast, I'm Amy Donaldson, and this is The Letter, Season 2, Ripple Effect. Episode 4, Life Sentences. On a summer night, Douglas Wag Jr. Lay motion endless across a strip of railroad tracks before being struck by an oncoming train. I'm investigative journalist Delia D'Ambra, and my investigation into exactly how Doug guide took me into the depths of a bizarre mystery. It was really hard to understand what was fact and what was it. A mystery that has led me from one suspicious death to another. Listen to counterclockwise now wherever you listen to podcasts.

Hey, everyone.

It's David Ducouveny.

Do you ever feel like a failure?

Trust me, I get it. Hell, I've spent my whole life almost feeling like a failure. It's appropriate, though, because on Fail Better, my new podcast with Lemenade Media, Exploring the World of Failure, How it Holds Us Back, Propels Us Forward, and ultimately shapes our lives is the whole point. Each week, I'll chat with artists, athletes, actors, and experts about how our perceived failures have actually been our biggest catalysts for growth, revelation, and even healing. Through these conversations, I hope we can learn how to embrace the opportunity of failure and fail better together. Fail Better is out on May seventh, wherever you get your podcasts.

I remember the day I woke up after the funeral. That was when it really hit me to wake up in the morning and the first thing you notice is your heart is racing. And you think, did I dream that or is it real? And then reality would hit. And didn't want to get out of bed.

After Jordan Rasmussen was killed, his wife, Deanne, found herself living a life she'd never imagined, widowed at 30 with three small children. The grief eclipsed everything.

I just remember life just seemed so empty. I thought, I just don't want to go on living. What's there to live for? But then I think of David, Lisa, and Chad. And I thought, I have to be here for them. What was hardest, especially those first few years. The first of everything was hard. The first Christmas, the first birthdays, the first anniversary of the murder. All of that was hard. I just knew that time would heal this open wound that was in my heart. And I just so badly wanted time to go by fast because my heart was broken. It wasn't just emotionally, it was a physical pain. I literally felt my heart was broken.

She couldn't seem to find even a moment's relief from the ache. And then one day, it happened. She was out running errands and happened to be driving past the mall where she'd purchased the dress for her husband's funeral just a few months earlier. She pulled up to a stop light, and it hit her.

I remember distinctly thinking, I didn't think about Jordan from the Cottonwood Mall to here. That was a major milestone. Probably four minutes had gone by, and I had actually thought about something else besides my pain. And my broken heart.

Her family worried about her being alone. In the days after Jordan's funeral, her brothers told her that she should take time to grieve, but But she should also think about rebuilding her life.

They said, Deanne, you do what you need to do. You take the time to mourn. You mourn Jordan to your fullest. Said, But these children need a dad. Don't mourn your whole life. When the time is right, you need to find someone and remarry.

The suggestion seemed absurd at first, but eventually, Deanne realized she did need to try, if for no other reason than for her children. So about four months after Jordan was killed, she agreed to go on a dinner date. It was a man who knew Jordan, so he understood the situation. Deanne can no longer remember where they went or what they ate, just the sickness she felt in her stomach. She couldn't shake it.

It was awful. I mean, we had fun, but the whole time I felt like I was being untrue. You're being disloyal.

You're cheating.

I'm cheating.

She maintained a friendly façade until, with relief, they pulled into the driveway of the home she'd shared with Jordan.

After the date, he dropped me off at the door and said goodbye. I remember leaning against the door and just breaking down. I can't do this. This is just not right.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe it was just the wrong man. But Deanne was also working hard to make herself whole for her children. They were her primary focus, even on her darkest days.

I went to counseling. I figured if I was able to put myself back together, that I would be a better mother. And so that's what I did. I worked on me to try to help them better.

She didn't want to parent them from a place of sadness or rage, but the heaviness of loss hung over every moment.

Sometimes I would get angry if the kids did something, got an award at school, or did something that the parents should be there. I would just be angry that they couldn't have their dad there. It was hard not feeling sorry for him, and so you just wanted to give him things.

Deanne assumed her children were struggling with grief, too, but she wasn't sure how to talk about it, so they didn't.

They just kept it in. I think I failed. I probably should have brought it out.

Jordan's sisters could see the toll it was taking on the kids, especially his oldest son, David, who was eight years old when his father died.

I think my heart broke for David the most because they We were so close.

Jordan's younger sister, Diane, said the aunts tried to fill the void left by her brother's death, but it was an emptyness too vast. And they felt it in so many small moments.

Like David's favorite shirt, a soccer jersey. It was yellow and reversible black, and I think it's number seven.

And he would only wear that.

As soon as it got washed, put it back on.

He'd insist on wearing it everywhere, to school, to play, even to church. Jordan's the only one that could talk him into wearing a Sunday shirt to church, not his jersey. That jersey became a symbol of what was lost, an emblem of absence.

That was painful to see him in that little jersey knowing that his dad wasn't there to convince him to take it off.

Jordan's youngest son Chad wasn't even two when his father was killed. But not remembering him or the trauma of his murder didn't mean Chad could escape the pain of growing up with grief. Eventually, he'd have his own struggle with what it meant to miss someone he'd never known. Then there was Jordan's little girl, five-year-old Lisa. She was old enough to miss her dad, but not quite enough to grasp death. She was the one who was worried about giving her dad a cold if she looked into his casket. Her aunt Diane remembers the family trying to explain death to her by putting a glove on her tiny hand. The adults who loved her told her that the glove represented the human body. Her hand, they told her as they pulled the glove over her little fingers, represented the soul. When the glove or the body died, it's separated from the soul. They pulled the glove off her hand, and then in In an effort to ease the pain that they'd anticipated she'd feel, they reminded her she would see her dad again in the afterlife. Your daddy's going to be gone for a long, long time.

It'll be a long time until you see him, and she says, Well, not very long because he will come home for Christmas because he loves Christmas.

I remember thinking, No, it'll be longer than Christmas. And you can't explain hereafter to a five, six-year-old.

And nine months later, as they gathered for their first Christmas Eve without Jordan, Lisa would make it clear to the adults in her life that some lessons could only be learned by living them. That December, Deanne was saying, You got to go to bed.

Santa can't come until you go to sleep. She said, I don't care about Santa. I'm waiting for Daddy to come back. Those words ring clear that he'll be back. He'll come home for Christmas because he loves Christmas, and I'm sure he was there.

As the months passed, Deanne's friends kept trying to set her up. Just before Michael Moore's murder trial, they introduced her to a man named Tom Kilgore. He was divorced and had five children of his own. She agreed to a date. This time, it was a completely different experience. Not only did they have an instant connection, he seemed to understand how to care for a woman who was mourning and loving another man. And maybe always would.

He was willing to not be threatened by me grieving my husband, my first husband, and he was loving and supportive.

Just nine months after Jordan's murder, they got married. Some worried they were rushing into things.

I remember having a phone conversation with my mom, and she said, Tiana, I don't think you're doing the right thing. This is too soon. You just need to take more time. And I said, Mom, I did right the first time. You need to trust me. I think I know my heart.

But all three of Jordan's sisters supported Deanne's new marriage They loved Tom, and they wanted their sister-in-law to have support, wanted their niece and nephews to have a dad. Jordan's older sister, Leslie, says her deepest concern was for her brother's children.

David, little Lisa, and little Chad. That was where my pain was. More than everything I went through, physically, emotionally, was looking at them.

Leslie knew there was no choice but to go on living. To find a way to heal. But how? You can't just forget your brother's murder.

All I can equate it to was being at the beach, and you're standing there and you're looking at the seashells, and all of a sudden, a wave just comes and just knocks you down. And that was what happened constantly. You'd be thinking you were okay, and then boom, there'd be a wave that would just knock you down. And went on forever. Just when you think, Okay, I'm dealing with this. I've got to take care of my kids, my family. And then all of a sudden, boom, the wave comes. Sometimes there are tsunamis.

She couldn't let grief sweep her away. She had a life, responsibilities, five children of her own. But unlike waves made of water, swells of grief aren't confined to a beach. One night, Leslie was standing in the doorway of an elementary school when one of those waves blindsided her. As the PTA President, it was her responsibility to welcome parents to a meeting where they discussed fundraising and book fairs. Then, without warning, the heaviness she now always carried in her chest exploded into hot shame. She forced herself to smile, to shake hands, to say simple, familiar words. These were people she knew, people she liked. They greeted her warmly, but all she could hear were the words of a killer.

More said that's when he decided this guy is such a jerk that he no longer deserves to live.

I was supposed to be conducting a PTA meeting. But that Jordan Rasmussen was such a jerk he didn't deserve to live still stayed in my mind. You read something in the newspaper and you totally give validation to it. You're just like, Oh, Jordan Rasmussen was such a jerk, he didn't deserve to live. Well, that's too bad for those Rasmussen. That's too bad.

The thing that kept gnawing at her was Michael Moore's lack of remorse, his refusal to apologize for what he'd stolen from them. And he blamed Jordan. Those lies, they haunted her. The echo in her head felt maddening, so she slipped into the office and dialed a familiar number.

I called my mom and I said, I am supposed to conduct a PTA meeting tonight. I cannot do this. And she said, Well, I understand. But at some point, we just can't keep hiding.

Her mother offered her sympathy, comfort, and then a little advice. It didn't matter what other people thought of Jordan.

We know. Heavenly Father knows, and that is all that matters. You hold your head up high. You We're blessed to have one of the most golden boys in the world as your brother, and you go on and hold that head up and enjoy celebrating the goodness of him and his life. And so I did that night.

Her mother's counsel got her through that meeting, but Leslie couldn't seem to exercise Michael's accusations from her mind. Nothing mitigated the painful legacy of the killer's lies. How could she heal? How could she find peace when Michael Moore would not accept responsibility for what he had done?

It would have been such a different scenario if Jordan had been killed in a car accident. Believe me, that is entirely different than what this family experienced.

It wasn't just that she lost her brother.

It was how he was killed and how Michael planned to dispose of his body until Buddy Booth showed up. From the horror of the whole the whole murder, the chains, the sinking of the body in the light. It was horrifying. I think you just step back and just think, I just don't want to deal with any of this.

So she clung to the only life raft the criminal justice system could offer. Jordan's murderer would never be free.

The judge made a decision, and the jury made a decision, and so you realize it's out of your hands. We knew that he'd be there for a long time, and we wanted that.

But that life raft turned out to be unreliable because Michael Moore was getting ready to ask the parole board for a second chance after just a year in prison. While the families were unaware of this hearing, Michael made a case for leniency. What could he possibly say that would justify such mercy? What changed in his life, in him? Would he acknowledge the waves of destruction and pain that were still crashing through the lives of those who loved Jordan Rasmussen and Buddy Booth? That's after the break. This show is sponsored by Better Hope. If there is one decision I've made in the last decade that has made the biggest difference in my life, it's seeking therapy. I'm not going to lie. I didn't want to do it. I bought into all the stigma, including this idea that if you just try harder to have a positive attitude, everything will get better. That, my friends, is one of the biggest lies I told myself. I was introduced to Betterhelp right after the pandemic, and the idea of being able to connect with licensed therapists from my own home somehow made seeking help much easier. Betterhelp is all about making therapy accessible, flexible, and tailored to fit our lives.

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This is the time set for a original hearing before the Utah Board of Pardons and Parole in the matter of Michael Patrick Moore. Signed prison number 15995..

The ID The idea of a double murderer having a parole hearing just a year after arriving at the Utah State Prison seems absurd, but it happened. Until recently, it happened in almost every Utah case. That's because the state uses what's called indeterminate sentencing. In other words, while a judge can send you to prison, it's actually the state's Board of Pardons and Parole that decides how long you spend behind bars.

Mr. Moore, you are serving a sentence for murder in the first degree, a capital felony, two counts, both having a life sentence imposed- In this 1983 hearing, Michael sat alone at a wooden table in a large rectangular room.

Facing him, sitting on a slightly raised platform, were five members of the Utah Board of Pardons and Parole.

What I'd like to do now is turn to you and allow you the opportunity to make any comments and expressions that you feel appropriate.

These hearings are recorded, so we get to hear Michael's voice for the first time. He responded by trying to explain what led him to kill two men in March of 1982.

I don't know what I can say at this point is I decided to express my deepest remorse for what happened. I knew Jordan, I knew the family, I knew his son. And what happened if that was not premeditated, it was a spontaneous thing. I was under a great deal of stress and pressure. And I feel for that every day. I feel for the families, and I feel wrong of that. I would hope that there's some way I could make that up. It's just I don't know what I could do. I wish we could go back and redo it. I would never put myself in a position I would have done without done.

Here's what sticks out to me about his opening statement. Michael says he wants to express his deepest remorse for what happened to Jordan, but he doesn't acknowledge that he was the one who killed him, and he doesn't actually say he's sorry. He doesn't even mention Buddy Booth, and he's still, for the most part, trying to justify or mitigate what he did. He is trying to simultaneously cast himself as a victim in this tragedy while appearing to take responsibility for it. But Michael wasn't alone in making his case for early release. His parents, former boss and girlfriend, sat on wooden chairs in the audience behind him. After Michael finished his statement, the board gave them the opportunity to speak on his behalf. Michael's parents, Edward and Roseanne Moore, begged for leniency for their only son. His mother was so emotional she could barely speak. It's difficult to understand her brief but desperate plea.

Mrs. Moore? I might not be able to say that. This is the night when you sleep. This is all I've got.

He's all I've got, she said.

I just hope that I don't die before he gets out.

I just hope I don't die before he gets out. And when she made her way back to her chair, Edward Moore took up his son's cause. He'd done this before, begged for mercy on his son's behalf, when he asked a jury to spare his life a year earlier. He read from prepared notes.

Mike's never hurt anybody. I can't find a soul that doesn't mind Mike. But for this one transgression, except for it, he's lived an exemplatory life. It's a fine son. I'm proud of him. I love him. I always tell him to tell the truth, and that truth that I taught him to tell was his undoing by the confession. He didn't flee or run away or anything. He went down there and he called the authorities, told them what happened. He needed help. In all the transcripts you could find, you'll find all the detectives, speak highly of Mike, as being very workable and that he was ideal to get along with.

Edward said his son must have been under tremendous pressure. He never meant to kill anyone. That's why he confessed.

Michael's not a criminal, but I understand the gravity of the situation. Michael must have been brainwashed or under tremendous mental strain to do something like it. I just can't understand it. I didn't even know he could shoot a gun. We don't have guns in our house.

And then Michael's father, a lifelong Catholic, extended his plea beyond the bounds of the law and the purview of the board.

We are all being judged by a higher board of pardon than this, and I'm sure the man upstairs will say, Let there be peace and goodness that follows. We humbly beseech the family that you grant Michael favorable rehearing that will offer him hope instead of despair. So the justice and compassion can be an instrument of your learned judgment. Thank you for letting us to talk. Thank you very much. Those notes are helpful.

Also there to speak on Michael's behalf was the man who first gave him a job at Lughaven, Stanley Sprouse. He was emotional as he talked about the young man he hired as a team.

Michael has worked for me since he is 16 years old. I never saw the side of Michael, what happened. In all the years that we work together, I always called him Son, and he always called me Dad. I was like an adopted father. I've never had a father in Philly.

Stan sold Loghaven in 1979, but Michael stayed on through the transition to the new owners. Stan recommended they promote Michael to manager. By the time the murders happened in March of 1982, Stan was no longer involved in the day-to-day operations. When he learned what happened, he was as baffled as everyone else.

Michael was a smart young man. Well-educated, well-mannered, honest, religious in his own way. I think Michael never planned this in any way, shape, before. It was a crime of passion.

The board which had already reviewed the court records, listened silently to the testimony. When they finished, it was Michael's turn to tell the board he understood the gravity of what he'd done.

Something I live with every night. I sleep with it. I wake up, I wake up shaking. I can't even understand it myself.

But he also felt he deserved another chance at freedom. He felt like he could do some good in the world. In fact, he already had.

Being within this institution, I've tried to be a benefit to society, repair whatever small ways I can, try to be an asset in some way, make up for what I've done.

Michael said he counseled incoming inmates, helped staff members, and taught French to other prisoners. He honestly seemed to believe that what he'd done in prison in the last year showed that he was worthy of early release.

I've never hurt anybody in my life. I've worked with my staff. I've worked in stressful situations, in violent situations. I've never struck an employee. I've never hurt anybody. I've never physically been in fights. So I thought that I was very scared and under great good stress and pressure.

Stress and pressure. That had been Michael's defense at trial, that he was so emotionally distressed by the upheaval at Loghaven that he killed two men. Even a year after his conviction, Michael Moore couldn't let go of the outrageous claims he had made on the stand, mainly that he thought his life was in danger. Michael pressed his case to the board of pardons. He presented them with a book he had written in his first year behind bars. In it, he detailed his belief that the restaurant's new owners were affiliated with a criminal mob and that his questions about financial issues made him a target. We were not able to obtain the book referenced here, but we know it detailed what Michael had already told police in his confession. He said the restaurant was a front for a network of criminal activity, including importing drugs shipped to the US through furniture orders. Board members said they'd read the book, but they weren't persuaded that any of it was true. There was no evidence. It was too absurd to think the police looked into the murders and overlooked such extensive criminal behavior. This is where the hearing took a turn away from straightforward testimony.

The board started asking questions of both Michael and his small but loyal band of supporters.

The question that I have is this, Mike.

Are you still convinced that someone may have been trying to kill you at that time?

I am convinced that that was the aura that pervaded it. Whether or not there was any substance to it, I can't say. I don't know.

He didn't answer the question with a yes or a no. He said he was convinced that an aura pervaded the Corporation. The board member asked Dan Sprouse, the original owner of Loghaven, if he could substantiate any part of what Michael still asserted. Mr Sprouse, is it?

Are you able to verify in any way some of the allegations that Michael has made regarding these new owners of the Loghaven? No, I wasn't that well acquainted with them. I stayed on for six months after I sold the rest of it and trained Michael as manager. I felt all the confidence in the world that he'd make a great manager for Loghaven. I recommend him very highly to Mr. Cochain, who was the owner at that time. I knew of no malice or any hard feelings between the offices whatsoever until it was all over with. Then, of course, that's how I found out about it.

The board members were concerned about why Michael went to such great lengths to cover up his crime. When he contended, he took responsibility from the start.

You altered the scene substantially, and I I'm confused about why you did that.

No. The reason that it might seem to be initial cover up is I would just shot what I considered to be the mob's accountant, and I was afraid of what would happen to me at that point. That's why the crime scene was altered. It was never even a thought to cover it up. My jacket was out in the open. My clothes were around. The holster was sitting. My ammunition was there. I called the police and I waited.

But what he didn't say is that he spent time shoveling bloody snow into the sump, and then he tossed the gun into the same hole. He dragged both bodies into the van and then drove it onto the road before calling police.

My statements to the police, I was tired. I hadn't slept or eaten in a week. I'd under a great deal of stress, and I just got through a horrifying experience, and I was I was broken. I just wanted to be left alone.

I'm also concerned about what your investment was. The board seemed stunned that he'd kill over a job. Why not just walk away?

I was wrong. I became too attached to a position, to what a place meant to me. It was a bit too long. It was too much of it by hand.

Edward Moore jumped in with his perspective on what was going on with his son that morning.

He was a very important thing he brought up. Mike was in love with that place. That was his girlfriend. He hadn't taken a vacation for three or four years. Took off one weekend, went to San Francisco, came back and find someone else with his restaurant. He was in love with that. That was his woman. He was in love with it. It's hard to believe.

When it came to killing Buddy Booth, Edward Moore blamed his son's paranoia. He said when he learned that Michael believed the mob was going to send someone to kill him, these so-called Hatchet Boys, that it began to make terrible, tragic sense.

This explained to me in my mind, when he saw that van, he thought they were coming to catch the boys. But I want to bring that point. Thank you, Berna.

But board members made it clear they didn't believe Michael's story about the mob or that fear explained his violent choices. They noted that his book, which he panned in prison, began with a letter from the county attorney saying that the accusations against the new owners of Loghaven were unfounded.

The record is clear, Mike, that from your perception, from reading your book, in your mind, you may have been perceiving things as you have portrayed, and that may have very much contributed to your motivation, your paranoia time, and your ultimate action. In reviewing, the statements was taken from a number of individuals in the record. It is not such strange to me at all.

The board was ready to make a decision, but Michael wasn't finished. He wasn't ready to concede the fact that what drove him to kill two men wasn't true. He spent another seven minutes discussing his theories.

I might say that even though you feel that my work is not substantiated, there were many people within corporate office with whom I worked. They were never questioned on the stand to put this into the record for what reasons I don't know. I wish I did.

Remember, Michael's own defense attorneys decided not to pursue his allegations that the restaurant's owners were affiliated with a criminal mob or that someone was going to hurt or kill him. The only thing that mattered to them was that Michael believed the delusions when he pulled the trigger. Whatever his fears, the chairman said it was his violent response that brought him to prison, and subsequently, this hearing.

The unfortunate thing, regardless of your motivation and how you were listening, the end result is two people lost their lives at your hand. And that's the point that this board must go to.

The fact that he was still clinging to this elaborate web of lies as a way to explain or justify what he'd done indicates just how deeply held those delusions were. The The board took a recess to discuss the case. Their decision after the break. There's this weird situation that I'm in right now. I'm working really long hours, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, all I can do is think about all the stuff I didn't do during the day or the things I didn't finish, the book that I was reading, the album that I just started listening to. My mind just goes a million miles an hour and I can't sleep. And that is why I'm so excited to tell you about this new Secret weapon, Soothing Sleep. With the Soothing Sleep podcast, you can experience two incredible things in one soothing package. First, let it take you on this immersive journey full of vivid visualizations. Picture yourself on a cozy train ride, strolling through the Smithsonian or exploring the beautiful streets of a European city. Along with these mesmerizing journeys, Soothing Sleep brings you a special breathing technique to help you relax and get comfortable.

It is the perfect blend of visualization and relaxation to ease your mind and prepare you for restful sleep. The best part? There's no hassle of downloading and paying for a new app. Soothing Sleep is available for free wherever you listen to podcasts. Just search for Soothing Sleep. So whether you're knee deep in work or just looking for a piece A Joyful Night's Rest. Soothing Sleep will ease you out of your head and into your dreams. New episodes release every Tuesday. Search for Soothing Sleep today and embark on your journey to a better night's sleep. That's S-O-O-T-H-I-N-G-S-L-E-E. Ep. Sweet dreams. Hey, friends, I have a new podcast that I'm hoping you'll add to your must listen list. It's called The Wounds That Do Not Heal, hosted by Tressa braided. Tressa might have been one of those people who quietly endured domestic abuse and then just tried to rebuild her life on her own after divorcing her abusive husband. But she got a call from his second wife asking her if she'd testify on her behalf in a case against him. The two soon realized that they had both gone to the military asking for at different times.

Through a long and arduous case, an unbreakable bond between the two women was formed. Now in the Wounds That Do Not Heal, Tressa is trying to shed light on this often overlooked and very misunderstood issue. She has a raw and vulnerable storytelling style, and she's very open about both the pain and the resilience she has witnessed while seeking to provide help to those who desperately need it. Tressa interviews psychologists, counselors, social workers, and survivors to uncover the harsh and the systemic challenges faced by military families. Together, they explore the unique dynamics and complexities surrounding domestic violence within the community, breaking down stigmas and fostering crucial conversations that go beyond the surface. Listen to The Wounds That Do Not Heal wherever you get your podcasts. When the parole board members filed back into the hearing room, they delivered swift, severe disappointment to Michael Moore. There would be no parole, at least not yet. Instead, they'd summit him to another hearing in 10 years. Then, the chairman offered him some advice on how he might spend the next decade of his life. The board member advised Michael to maintain a good conflict record, just as he had over the past year in prison, and encouraged him to use the time to come to terms with the crime he'd committed.

But Michael couldn't hide his disappointment.

It is my desire to accept your decision very hard, yet it does stifle one's initiative to Excel, to recover in a way that leaves you a burden of risk and further in one can return society. How can I best do that with that amount of time?

He seemed to be searching for a playbook or a promise. If he did certain things, could he be assured of release?

I don't want to overstate this to you, but- I don't want to overstate this, the board member said, but you can certainly impact the amount of time you serve.

She explained that once they feel an inmate has paid their debt to society, it's really a question of what an inmate has done with their time behind bars.

Give back.

Give back a little, she said. There's no reason why you can't try to be as happy as you can in here for the time.

I appreciate that.

But he couldn't let it go. Maybe what he'd done was so terrible, there was no hope for him. If there was nothing he could do to earn freedom. Why should he try to be a good person? Why even try to change?

It seems to me that the gravity of the fence is so severe, very little I can do in here can alter the outcome.

He said he was sorry and that he tried to make up for the damage he'd done. But spending his life in prison wasn't going to change what happened. He got the impression that there wasn't anything he could do in prison that would win him a second chance. He begged for a lifeline, something more specific than be good and hope for the best.

What can I anticipate after that if I maintain my present course? Can you give me some ray of hope? A ray of hope.

Well, one board member said the guideline for a life sentence was generally about 15 years, but even that was too ambiguous for Michael.

Should I anticipate a five-year hearing when I return in 10?

The board member refused to offer him anything other than advice.

Michael, I won't commit to that. I'm just asking for a comment, judgment, so I can't. I would prefer to not to compare myself. I think it would do the best for you at that time to, for now, have time prepared for that hearing, looking for what that is as a goal. I can appreciate Okay. Good luck.

With that, Michael said goodbye to his family and went back to living the life he was trying to build behind bars. All of this happened without the knowledge or participation of the families of his victims, who were, in a way, serving their own life sentences, adapting to their new realities, barred from ever seeing their loved ones again. There was no appeal process for them, no hope of early release. Those who loved Jordan Rasmussen and Buddy Booth had to find a way to live with the void, the ghosts, the waves of grief. They tried rebuild, to move on, to forget about the men who shattered their lives. But it was impossible. Because in a decade, Michael Moore would once again sit before the parole board and ask for freedom. But this time, Jordan's family would have something to say about it.

I just could not see any way possible that he should ever be out of prison. This man should never, ever see the light of day. If these little children are going to be without their father forever, he should not be able to be entitled to go on and live a glorious life. It's just not justice.

That's next time on The Letter.

Does everyone in our criminal justice system deserve defending?

I'm Andrea Smarten, a producer of The Letter. On this Last week's bonus episode, defense attorney Ed Brass shares some remarkable stories from his decades long career and some unlikely tales of forgiveness.

To get access to bonus content, just click on the button to subscribe to Lemonada Premium. On Apple podcasts. Follow us on social media at the Letter podcast, or check out our website, theletterpodcast. Com. If you like The Letter, please take a few minutes and give us a rating and write a review.

It helps our show get discovered. The Letter Season 2 is written by me, Amy Donaldson and Andreas Martin, who is also lead on production and sound design, with additional help from Nina Ernest and Erin Mason. Mixing by Trent Sell. Theme music composed by Allison Leighton town. Special thanks to Becky Bruce, Kelly Ann Halvorson, Ryan Meeks, Ben Keebrooke, Felix Bennell, Josh Tilton, and Dave Cawley.

With Lemonada Media, executive producers Jessica Cordova-Kramer and Stephanie Wittelswax.

For Workhouse Media, executive executive producer Paul Anderson, and for KSL Podcasts, executive producer Sheryl Worsley. The Letter is a production of KSL podcast and Lemonada Media in association with Workhouse Media. Think about a moment in your life that changed you, where one day you were yourself, and then the next day, poof, you weren't. I'm Stephanie Wittelswax, host of the show Last Day. Each week, I sit down with a new guest to explore happy, sad stories of transformation. Some last days are hopeful, some are tragic, but on the other side of every last day is a fresh start. Come laugh, cry with us. Listen to Last Day wherever you get your podcasts.

Hi, I'm Feminasty Erin Gibson.

I'm Homosexual Brian Soffy. And we're the co-hosts of the Attitudes podcast. Where we talk about LGBT plus issues, gender issues, and pop culture.

Probably with much less respect than they deserve.

Look, a wild world, and we want to help you laugh at it. Plus, we discuss everything going on in our lives.

Like, what do you do when your husband accidentally starts a fire in a dumpster?

And the best arm pit slapping techniques to get rid of the bags under your eyes.

Thanks for the advice, mom.

And of course, how to spend a wig around to achieve a brand new look. Stunning. So if you're a fan of high-heel shoe chairs or have a crippling fear of pot-air balloons, but also believe in social justice, then this show's for you. Listen to Attitudes anywhere you get your podcast.