The Most Hated Woman in America Page #8

Sure.

Yeah, but they didn't seem too keen

on looking for a missing ex-con.

I called Waters up looking for Danny.

He made up some excuse.

And then he threatened to kill my family.

Are you prepared to go on the record?

Yeah.

Mr. Waters,

I'm not one for plea agreements,

but I don't really have a say

in the matter.

You've discussed this with your lawyer?

Go ahead.

Gary was like a mad dog.

Sooner or later he was gonna bite.

David.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Oh...

Oh...

God damn it, Karr.

What the f*** did you do?

Jesus! David?

What are we gonna do now?

Calm down.

I knew something like this

was gonna happen.

We gotta get her body into the bedroom

so they don't see her.

Oh, no.

No! David, no!

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Danny, do something!

Mother!

No!

- No!

- Don't look! Don't look!

Oh, God!

Do it.

Here.

Do it.

Do it.

Gary, I can't.

He couldn't be trusted

to keep his mouth shut, so...

I had Gary take him out, too.

What happened to the money?

We kept the gold in a storage locker.

And when we went to collect...

it was gone.

We'd been robbed.

F***ing five-dollar lock.

I never intended to kill her.

But I can't say

that I'm sorry that she's dead.

We're live here at Camp Wood,

where confessed murderer David Waters

is leading police

to the spot where he buried

the bodies of Madalyn Murray O'Hair,

her son and granddaughter,

on that gruesome night in 1995.

There were rumors that

they had fled to New Zealand...

Well, at least she didn't go unnoticed.

Police finally narrowed in on Waters

and his partner in crime, Gary Karr...

She would've appreciated that.

Also charged with the murder

of a third kidnapper.

Please, no prayers.

She wouldn't have wanted that.

Does it worry you that, uh, when you die,

that there's not going to be nirvana

or whatever you care to call it?

When I die,

I don't want some religious nut

shoving a rosary up my ass

or communion wafer down my throat.

But I wouldn't mind

a small corner of the outdoors

where the sun can filter through the trees

and lay a gentle hand on my face.

Three words on my tombstone.

"Woman."

I've loved being a woman.

"Grandmother."

I've loved being a grandmother.

And "mother."

I have loved being a mother.

That's what I'd like to be

remembered for most.

That's what I'd like it to say

on my tombstone, but...

being who I am,

I'm not expecting I'll be having

a goddamn tombstone.

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