Annette Washington

United States of America

Born: 1958

Died: -

Active: August 1986

Method of Disposal: Stabbing

Consequence: Imprisonment (50 years to life)

Unfortunates:

• Loretta O'Flaherty
• Edna Fumasoli

Sometimes there are days where you feel like nothing is going right.  The roast gets burnt, a sudden downpour soaks the washing just as it was ready to be brought in off the line, it can be any little thing.  And it can be that one little thing that makes a woman snap and throw the peg basket, just out of sheer frustration.

Take Annette Washington, for example.  She was employed as a home health care worker, visiting the elderly at their homes to assist them with their medication, physical therapy, reaching the top shelf to retrieve the iced vo-vos.  She was a good worker, and had every reason to assume she would stay in that job until she retired.

Annette had good reason to covet her job.  She was a single mother with a 9-year-old son to feed, clothe and put through school.  She also had a boyfriend, who needed his daily medicinal injections of heroin and snorts of cocaine.  Annette's weekly budget required her to continue working; these essentials didn't pay for themselves.

As long nothing went wrong, Annette's life would turn out just fine.  Unfortunately, her employers had other ideas, and she was let go in July 1986.  Now, losing a job is an unfortunate part of life, and it would be normal to feel angry about it.  But she had really bonded with her elderly charges, had gotten to know their families.  She'd even respected the fears her clients held about break-ins, by using a secret knock when she visited so they would know who they were opening the door to.  All those little things, and she still hadn't been able to keep her job.

July turned into August.  The bills piled up, the fridge and pantry became devoid of food, and the heroin supplies dwindled.  Annette became more and more desperate.  She just had to do something.  Then it occurred to her: she knew exactly where to find money, jewellery and other valuable things.  She'd seen enough of it at the houses of her former clients.  Being honest, they wouldn't be living for too much longer anyway, so they had no real use for their valuables.  And Annette really needed the cash.

Taking advantage of the knowledge she had of their movements, Annette chose Loretta O'Flaherty as her first cash point.  Using two kitchen knives that Loretta had carelessly left lying around in the second drawer down in the kitchen, Annette sneaked up behind the 85-year-old woman as she sat crocheting doilies in the living room and cut her throat twice.  Then she moved through the house, collecting money, rings and other items that she could sell.  

After a successful afternoon of turning an elderly lady into an ATM, Annette was finally able to breathe a little.  She paid a few bills, brought food for her boy and squared things up with the drug dealer who was holding her boyfriend up against the wall by his neck when she arrived home.  Everyone was happy again.

For about two weeks.  Then the money and shiny elderly lady jewellery ran out and she was left with the same problem.  Annette once again looked at her list of former clients.

Edna Fumasoli was 68 years old, almost twenty years younger than Annette's last victim, and (as Annette was to find out to her own detriment) quite a bit stronger than Annette expected.  When Edna realised Annette's intentions after letting her into her house, she fought hard.  Royal Doulton crockery was broken, the flying ducks fell off the wall, it was a mess!  However, 90 stab wounds later, Edna was laying on the floor and Annette was laying her hands on everything she could find.

With two similar murders occurring in such a short space of time, with the same motive and similar weapons and no signs of a break in, it was only natural for the police to begin thinking they might be linked.  The families helpfully pointed out that there was a woman who used to work as a carer for both women.  A really nice lady, that Annette, she was always so helpful.  She even made sure she used the 'knocking code' so that Loretta and Edna would know it was her when she came to the door, because they were both so petrified of being robbed.

Yes, the police surmised, they might be linked.

Annette was arrested the following month.  She confessed to knowledge of the murders, but told her gaolers that it wasn't her, it was an unnamed male accomplice.  Her fingerprints were only on the knives because she had handed them to him.  She'd apparently been under duress on both occasions.  Oh, it was all a big mess, and could she please just go home now?

Unsurprisingly, the answer to that question was no.  Since Unnamed Male Accomplice had not come forward, she would just have to stand trial in his place.  She was handed a sentence of 50 years to life.  If she was released after serving her fifty years, she will be almost as old as her eldest victim.  In the interim, maybe she could learn how to crochet.  Loretta never did finish that doily.

Sharon Carr

United Kingdom

Born: 21 December 1979

Died: -

Active: 7 June 1992

Method of Disposal: Stabbing

Consequence: 14 years detention, reduced to 12

Unfortunates:

• Katie Racliffe

Fortunates:

• Ann-Marie Clifford
• Two detention staff members at an Assessment Centre

Sharon Carr had a dream, just like every other 12-year-old does.  But Sharon didn’t want to be an Olympic ice skater or a doctor or lawyer, nothing like that.  Because that would be boring.  No, Sharon’s dream was to become one of the youngest killers in Britain.  Which she did, at the age of twelve. 

Sharon’s upbringing was pretty average for the time.  Her mum became divorced after an unfortunate incident involving a pot of boiling hot fat being poured over the head of Sharon’s step-father.  After that unpleasantness, her mum gave priority to the important things, like alcohol and men.  Throw in the occasional ritual slaying of animals in the neighbourhood, along with witnessing the death of a neighbour who was doused in kerosene and set alight, and Sharon’s future as a killer was virtually assured.

She wrote in her diary every day.  The usual entries were there: “School sux”, “Can’t wait for the holidays” and "I hate math".  After a while, however, these more mundane topics were over taken by more significant comments, such as "my business is killing and business is good", and "pure jealousy makes me want to fight".  This writing was punctuated with usual drawings commonly displayed in the writings of young girls, like pictures of knives and such. 

It would appear that Sharon was feeling a little ‘jealous’ on the 7^th of June 1992, as she cruised the nightclub district of Farnborough with a couple of her male friends (it is assumed that she was unable to find a nightclub with a strict ‘patrons must have passed the bedwetting stage’ rule).  She didn’t take too kindly to her friends showing attention to 18-year-old Katie Racliffe as they passed her on the street.  She jumped out of the car and confronted the older girl with a knife. 

By the time Sharon was finished, she’d stabbed Katie 29 times.  She would have liked to ask the two boys she’d been with to help her move the body.  However, they’d unhelpfully disappeared in their car once the knife was produced, leaving her with the heavy lifting.  It was a hard task, but eventually Sharon pulled the now-deceased woman out of sight into a side street. 

Probably due to the fact that the police weren’t necessarily looking for a twelve-year-old girl in their search for suspects, Katie’s death remained unsolved for a few years.  And it probably would have remained that way, if Sharon hadn’t been in the habit of celebrating the anniversary of her first kill by trying to up the death toll. 

Two years to the day after Katie’s death, on 7^th June 1994, Sharon got into a stoush with a fellow student, Ann-Marie Clifford.  Anne-Marie was stabbed in the back but survived.  This time there were witnesses and the police were called.  Sharon was sent to the assessment centre nearby.  There she attempted to strangle two of the detention staff.  Again she was unsuccessful.  It was beginning to look as though Sharon might have peaked too soon in her chosen field of expertise.  Instead of adding to the body count, all she seemed to be doing is adding to the police summary.

Given her volatile nature, the authorities believed it was best to begin monitoring her conversations with family and friends.  Not that they really needed to.  Sharon had taken a shine to one of the prison guards, and regaled him with tales of her exploits on the outside world.  What she told the guard included pertinent information that no one else knew about an unsolved killing from years before.  The guard obligingly informed the police of what he knew and her diaries were confiscated (because of course it wasn’t dangerous for her to continue writing in there unabated).  In 1996, four years after Katie’s death, Sharon again found herself being arrested.

On the basis of her interview with police and the contents of her diaries, Sharon was quickly found guilty and jailed for 14 years.  Thereafter followed a litany of court hearings, during which her sentence was first upheld and then reduced to 12 years.  During her detention, Sharon continued to attack other prisoners and staff.  She was moved between prisons numerous times, which must have cost the county quite a sum.  Eventually someone found an old copy of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, dusted it off and opened to the section labelled ‘Schizophrenia’.  They threw the Mental Health Act at her, and then threw her into Broadmoor.

As she had been sentenced in 1997, Sharon was due to be released in 2009.  According to her psychiatric report, Sharon ‘suffers from a severe personality disorder with features of borderline anti-social and paranoid personality disorder… Carr’s long-term risk to others is likely to be highly associated with the extent to which her illness can be effectively controlled by a regime of medication which she is prepared to consistently take…’  So she appears to be okay after all, as ‘she is maturing, well engaged in individual psychotherapy and prepared to purposefully occupy her off-ward activities’. 

Oh, that’s a relief.  Just a phase she was going though, then?

Olga Hepnarová

Czech Republic

Born: 30 June 1951

Died: 12 March 1975

Active: 10 July 1973

Method of Disposal: Fast moving truck

Consequence: Hanged

Unfortunates:

• 8 commuters waiting for a tram on a street then-named “Defenders of Peace”

Fortunates:

• 12 other commuters waiting on the same street

It may seem like overkill to once again be focusing on the sovereign state of the Czech Republic, but Olga Hepnarová is not the kind of woman who is easily ignored. At the ripe old age of 22, Olga decided that she was somewhat unhappy with the world and her place within it. However, rather than retreat into the role of wife and mother like a good little martyr, Olga went for a more public display of her feelings.


Olga’s life started uneventfully enough. The daughter of a bank clerk father and dentist mother, there was nothing of note to set Olga apart from any of the other little girls living in Prague. Sure, she was a bit quiet, and didn’t mix well with others. Her parents assumed she was just reserved and didn’t really give her apparent social awkwardness much attention. Well, until she attempted suicide by swallowing a ton of medication at the age of 13.


Olga survived this attempt, but it earned her a year in a psychiatric hospital in Opařany, 100 kilometres south of Prague. Due to the suicide attempt and hospital stay, no one could ignore the fact that Olga was a little unbalanced. Anyone who spoke to her was made acutely aware of her view of the world and everyone in it.


Her adult life didn’t fare any better. She was able to find work in a number of different places, but was never able to hold her position due to her less than sunny disposition. It apparently was not appropriate to point out to co-workers that they were all a bunch of low-life wretches and that they’d get what’s coming to them. People tended to react adversely to hearing such things.


Each time she was sacked only served to cement Olga’s already firm conviction that society was going to hell in a hand basket. Finally she’d had enough. It was about time that Olga really made herself heard.


Olga chose the 10th of July as her D-Day. She first made sure to remove all doubt as to her intentions. She had written a manifesto of sorts, trying to make her words as clear as she could. There was no point in becoming a martyr if nobody knew why. Olga wrote, “It would be easy to leave this world as an unknown suicide. The society is too indifferent, rightly so. My verdict is: I, Olga Hepnarová, the victim of your bestiality, sentence you to the death penalty.” She then wrote what she thought were very helpful instructions in case anyone wanted to stop her. “I’m going to steal a bus today and run it into a crowd of people at full speed. It will happen somewhere in Prague 7.”


She posted the letters to two different newspapers and immediately set off to find a vehicle of sufficient mass to cause the largest amount of carnage.


She didn’t find a bus, but instead settled on a truck which she figured would have just the same effect. Incidentally, the last job Olga had held before she went completely off tap was as a truck driver. Somewhat fortuitous, it might be said, as it provided her with some pertinent skills which she would use to great advantage on this day.


After driving around for a while, Olga found the ideal location. It was a small street called “Defenders of Peace”, along which trundled the occasional tram. The street was positioned at the bottom of a steep hill, which Olga felt would suit her purpose just fine since it would allow the truck to build up sufficient speed and thus cause the maximum damage. Olga drove the truck to the top of the hill and saw through the front windscreen that she would hit the tram stop, and all the people therein, dead centre. Perfect.


Olga paused just for a moment to wonder whether her manifesto had been received by the press yet. She’d posted it at 11am and the time was now 1.45pm. Surely that would have been enough time for the postman to sprint to the post box, grab her letters, race to each newspaper office and deliver the letters directly to the editors, who would know it was urgent even though it wasn’t marked as such, open the letters immediately, deduce that the writer wasn’t a crackpot and alert the authorities, who would come to her exact location in time to stop her. Looking around, Olga could see no police. Obviously, society hadn’t taken her seriously. Typical, now they would have to pay.


Olga released the brake and headed towards the group of people waiting on “Defenders of Peace”, but quickly decided on that first attempt that the tram stop wasn’t quite crowded enough. She slowed down, driving past the people who stood at the tram stop oblivious to the impending danger. Olga headed around the block and back up to the top of the hill, where she waited and watched. When it appeared to her that there were sufficient victims, she released the hand brake and accelerated.


Olga knew she’d chosen the right moment. As her weapon of choice hurtled down the hill towards its target, nothing got in her way: no cars, no trams, nothing.


There were 25 commuters standing on the side of the road. Olga had succeeded in bringing down 20 of them, along with 3 nearby shop fronts. 8 were killed that day, with another 12 injured. Olga was arrested on the spot. Once her manifesto finally came to light 2 days after the incident (because there wasn’t a postman just waiting to pounce on her letter – it was posted the same as everyone else’s), her future date with the executioner was inevitable.


Olga’s lawyer tried his best to provide a defense for her actions. Olga wouldn’t hear of it. After all, what was the point of going to the trouble of meticulously writing down why she did what she did, then sending it to two different newspapers before going ahead with the killings, if she was just going to turn around and deny it later? Imbeciles!


Olga’s execution took place at Pankrác Prison. The martyr in her would be pleased to know that her most notable act of aggression earned her the dubious distinction of becoming the last woman hanged in the Czech Republic. Her martyrdom and notoriety had been assured, huzzah! 


So just to recap, Olga’s intention was to carry out the death penalty on the world. She mowed down 20 people, of whom 8 died. That’s 8 people, at a time when the world’s population stood at just over 4 billion. Wow. She sure showed us.

Marie Fikáčková (nee Schmidlová)

Czech Republic

Born: September 9, 1936

Died: April 13, 1961

Active: 1957 to 1960

Method of Disposal: Crushing/beating

Consequence: Hanged

Unfortunates:

• Two newborn children in Susice District Hospital maternity ward

Some women take to children easily.  They have a knack for knowing how to hold a baby, how to soothe a newborn who is fretting, and generally make the whole process of child rearing look like the most natural thing in the world for a woman to do.

Marie Fikáčková was not one of those women.  

Marie was born into a poor German family in September 1936.    When the Second World War ended in 1945, a number of families were reported for their German nationality, Marie’s family among then.  Marie was never close to her father, who was an alcoholic.  He would often talk of his hatred of the Czechs.  It is unknown whether Marie was affected by his intolerance of this particular nationality.  However, it’s unlikely that his ideals had a positive effect on the woman would later be responsible for helping to bring Czech babies into the world.

Marie graduated from a medical school in Klatovy in 1955, gaining good results.  She began her nursing career in a hospital laundry.  She then joined the National Institute of Health in 1957, before being transferred to the Susice District Hospital, in the Obstetrics department.  She quickly endeared herself to her fellow staff members, and was soon being considered for the position of Head Nurse. 

There was just one problem.  She didn’t like the sound of babies crying.  It ruined her concentration.  Newborn babies seemed to cry all the time.  Marie first noticed her lack of patience soon after being sent to work in the delivery ward.  She would grit her teeth and try to block out the noise, but it was no use.  The noise always broke through. 

Despite the annoyance, Marie really loved working in obstetrics.  She wasn’t about to let a simple issue of her inability to stand being in a room with a crying child for longer than a few minutes stop her from becoming the best maternity ward nurse she could be. 

If Marie hadn’t worked out a sensible solution to the problem, she might very well have given up on her dream.  But work out a solution she did.  She found that by applying enormous amounts of pressure to the skull with a well-placed thumb , the child quickly stopped crying.  It worked the first time she tried it on 23 February 1960.  Worked so well that later on that same day, when another newborn baby started crying, she used the same technique again.  And it worked again. 

Marie was ecstatic.  It was a whole revolution in child-quieting.  One quick application of 'pressure point therapy' and the child never cried again.

Marie’s actions might have gone unnoticed, with two babies buried and two sets of parents grieving over the senseless accidental deaths of their respective children.  It was accepted that children would die on occasion from this reason or that.  It was the time of Polio; many a child death was being attributed to this disease (maybe to the detriment of all other conclusions).  The medical fraternity also would explain away some deaths to carelessness in the delivery room.  Generally, there was no specialised department of the hospital to investigate the death of a child.

In fact, it was only due to some hard-to-explain anomalies surrounding the deaths of the babies on that day that the possibility of murder was even considered.  During an autopsy on the babies, it was found that both children had suffered multiple broken bones in their arms along with the head trauma which had led to their deaths.  The hospital staff considered this to be highly irregular since newborn babies generally didn’t suffer such injuries without some immediate explanation.  Authorities were contacted to conduct interviews on all the staff involved in the delivery of the children.  Marie was among those with whom they wished to speak.

Marie was interviewed four days after the suspicious deaths.  She finally admitting to causing the deaths of the children after the interview evolved into a six-hour interrogation. 

Despite Marie confessing to at least ten more injurious attacks against other children (some of whom survived, according to Marie), she was arrested and charged only with the two murders upon which there was sufficient evidence. 

The hospital had the authorities keep quiet about Marie’s assertion that her murderous actions extended further than the two deaths for which she was charged.  After all, no hospital wants to be linked to what would have be considered to be one of the Czech Republic’s more prolific multiple murderers, if Marie was to be believed. 

Inevitably, as is usually the case when insufficient details are given to the public, rumours spread throughout Czechoslovakia that she was responsible for perpetrating up to a dozen similar attacks on children.  There was also speculation about the true nature of the injuries sustained, including injections into the eyes and heads.

At her trial for the two murders, a number of people testified to her volatile nature.  Her brother was mentally handicapped, and she terrorised him on a regular basis.  Neighbours also reported that she had a violent streak.  On her own admission, Marie admitted that after causing the death of one child, she then turned her mind to such important tasks as inspecting and folding nappies.

After being sentenced to death on 6 October 1960, Marie twice appealed against her sentence.  She was ultimately unsuccessful and she was executed on 13 April 1961.

Her motives were never fully explained.  However, it is believed she blamed her inability to control her murderous impulses on the onset and duration of her menstrual cycle.  Psychiatrists deemed her to be sane and fit to stand trial because, really, to do otherwise would be to set a dangerous precedent.  Women would be blaming the waxing of the moon if the madness was allowed to continue.

Marie Hilley (nee Frazier)

United States of America

Born: 4 June 1933

Died: 26 February 1987

Active: 1975 to 1979

Method of Disposal: Arsenic Poisoning

Consequence: Life Imprisonment (plus 20 years)

Unfortunates:

• Frank Hilley (first husband)
• Lucille Frazier (mother)
• Carrie Hilley (mother-in-law)

Fortunates:

• Mike Hilley (son)
• Carol Hilley (daughter)

Marie loved shopping.  She had been brought up by parents who both worked long hours and they saw new clothes, toys and other niceties as a suitable replacement for hugs and boundaries.  She grew up believing that shopping solved everything.


Luckily her parents also thought their little girl was special enough to receive the best education. There would be no manual or factory labour for her.  Marie spent her high school years amongst the financially and socially privileged girls in Anniston, Alabama, and after graduation looked towards a cushy secretarial job.  And of course she had Frank Hilley, her high school sweetheart.  The couple were so keen on each other that they married before Marie had even finished high school.  Soon there were two children, Mike and Carol, to complete their perfect family.  


All the while, Marie maintained her spending habits.  It may have bothered Frank that Marie's spending seemed to always leave them with little money at the end of the week, but he never said anything to her.  Whatever made her happy couldn't be that bad.  Even when the banks and credit unions started taking legal action, Frank indulged her.  He had no reason to complain, because Marie always made sure she was by his side when he needed her.  Especially when he got sick, which was happening on a regular basis lately.


However, he couldn't look the other way when he came home from work sick one day, and caught Marie in bed with her boss.  Marie knew this time she couldn't buy her way out of her problems.  She knew Frank wouldn't stay with her after this.  Oh, everything was suddenly such a mess!


It certainly seemed like the marriage was unlikely to last.  Until Frank's illness began to get a hold of him, and within a short while he was bedridden.  As she had done countless times before, Marie dropped whatever she was doing and stayed by his side.  She knew he had to keep his strength up, and argued with him when he told her he was too sick to eat.


Mike, now living away from home, travelled back to the family home to help his mother and sister care for Frank.  He knew about his mother's infidelity, but seeing how she fussed over him made him hopeful for a reconciliation.  However, all their efforts were in vain; his liver finally gave out in late May 1974.  His death was attributed to hepatitis.


Frank was gone, and so was the income he brought into the home.  The $31,000 life insurance policy that Marie had fortuitously arranged not long before his death would not last long, not once Marie paid the insurance and other costs associated with her new car.  There was also the car for Carol, the diamond ring for her mother Lucille and the new niceties for Mike and his wife Teri.  


Soon after Frank died, Lucille was diagnosed with cancer.  Marie moved her mother into her home, and also invited Mike and Teri to stay, since Mike had a new job closer to home and needed somewhere to stay while they found a new home.  Suddenly Marie's home was full of family again.  She couldn't have been happier.  This is how it should always be.


That's when a mysterious fire bug attached him or herself to those close to the family.  First Marie's home was gutted, just one day before Mike and Teri were due to move into their new home.  This forced Marie and her mother and daughter to move into Mike's new apartment with him while Marie's home was rebuilt.  The fire bug then struck at Mike's next door neighbour's house which damaged Mike's own home, rendering it unliveable and forcing Mike and Teri to move with Lucille back to Marie's home.  It was so lucky that Marie's home had been fixed just in time.


Lucille, whose cancer had progressed significantly during this time, quickly worsened and she died.  Soon after, Mike and Teri found a new home and moved to Florida.  The fire bug persisted though.  This all became too much for Marie, who was once again forced to moved in with Mike and Teri for a few months while things settled down.  


However, her welcome was beginning to wear a little thin this time.  She was constantly fighting with Carol, who insisted on having her own personality.  Mike had a new baby, and the disharmony was not helping Teri cope as a new mum.  Not only that, but Marie had run up a large bill under Mike's name and the debt collector's were now calling him for the money.  He tried to talk to her about it, but she refused to pay him back.  That day he came down with one of the most severe stomach spasms he'd ever experienced.  He could only remember one other time he'd felt so sick; when he was 18 years old, he'd made plans to leave home for college, and had struggled through the same illness from which he now suffered.  Both times the pain went away eventually, but there seemed no explanation for it.


Meanwhile Marie had been shopping again...for insurance.  Just in case something awful happened to Mike or Carol.


She found she may need the insurance where Carol was concerned.  The girl had become a hypochondriac, complaining every day about small tummy aches and such.  It was no surprise though.  Carol was now nineteen and she was going out a lot.  Of course she would get ill, with the drinking and everything.  


She was soon admitted to a psychiatric ward, the doctors clearly of the belief that if they couldn't find a reason for the illness it was either psychosomatic or she was doing it for attention.  Others, however, had begun to believe there was something worse going on.  Carol's friend Eve had seen Carol's mother give Carol some injections.  She reported this to Mike, who had been having his own issues with the details surrounding his father's death.  He had only his suspicions, but when Eve spoke to him, they went straight to the doctor.  The doctor attempted to keep Marie away from her daughter.  In response, Marie promptly moved her daughter to another hospital and into the care of another doctor, saying Carol wasn't getting better where she was anyway.  


Had Marie's bad financial decisions not caught up with her, things may have turned out quite badly for the girl.  As it turned out, the authorities needed to speak with her regarding some 'irregular' transactions, and the family took the opportunity to bail up Carol's new doctor with their concerns.  Since Marie was no longer able to whisk her daughter away, this doctor was able to see the obvious signs of arsenic poisoning.  And with Frank's death and the sudden passing of Lucille, the authorities were finally notified.


Exhumations followed, with arsenic found in the bodies of both Frank and Lucille.  Marie was arrested and charged with both their murders, as well as the attempted murder of her daughter, after containers at her home contained large amounts of the poison.    At around the same that her mother-in-law Carrie also died of cancer, and tests of her hair also showed traces of arsenic.  A fourth poisoning victim.


Marie posted bail...and naturally made herself scarce.  She would not turn up again for another 4 years.


During her time in hiding, Marie did not rest.  She changed her name to Robbi Hannon.  Her new identity was no less dramatic than her last had been; apparently Robbi was wealthy but both her children had been tragically killed in a car accident and she herself was dying of a rare illness.  She spoke often of her twin sister Teri.  She started a relationship with a local boat builder called John Homan, but soon after moving in with him her condition worsened and she travelled to Texas for treatment.  John heard nothing more from Robbi, until her twin sister Teri arrived on his doorstep and advised him that Robbi had died.  In truth, Robbi and Teri were both alter egos of Marie's own imagination.  There didn't seem to be a reason for the elaborate set up, although it was clear that even figments of Marie's imagination were not immune to her murderous ideals.


Her new life was uncovered when Robbi's grieving work colleagues tried to pay their respects but found to their surprise that the hospital, the obituary, everything was fiction.  When police interviewed Teri in relation to the discrepancy, they realised they had stumbled upon the elusive Marie Hilley.  Again bail was set; somewhat unsurprisingly no one was generous in putting up the funds this time.


Marie was found guilty of the murder of Frank and attempted murder of Carol (the lawyers were obviously successful in arguing that Lucille and Carrie's deaths could not be considered murder because the cancer got to them first).  She was sentenced to life plus 20 years, and was transported to a Alabama women's prison to begin her sentence.


After four years Marie was eligible for a weekend release as a minimum security prisoner (it's assumed that this is a privilege afforded to all convicted murderers in Alabama).  She spent the first of those three night in the arms of her lover John, before slipping away the next morning.  The police assumed she had once again dreamed up a scheme and was half way across the country.  


Nope.  She wandered aimlessly for four days in the cold, before contracting hypothermia and collapsing at the front doorstep of a high school friend.  Some wonder whether there was a second person who had originally agreed to help her but reneged at the last minute.  Maybe it was her mysterious fire bug.  He or she would have been darned useful to her at that point.