TOAD: Nightmare on the Appalachian Trail

a firm number one on my anti bucket list. It's about two mates that go camping on this very popular trail in the eastern part of the United States, and while they're there, they encounter someone who they don't realize has a very shady past, and they invite him to join them for dinner, and then something very bad happens. That's all I'm gonna say, So let's get into it. So this tale begins on the Appalachian Trail. And if like me, you've got no bloody idea what that is?

The appalach Trail, or a as the locals call it, is like this trail in the forest in the US that extends from Georgia to Maine. And it's huge, like it crosses through fourteen states and it's around three and a half thousand kilometers long. I'd imagine if you enjoy shopping at places like Catman do, and you take your backpack game very seriously and carry a compass and a first aid kit with you, then this places your vibe.

I believe the term is hikers. Anyway, on the morning of May sixth, two thousand and eight, a man in his thirties named Scott Johnston gets in his truck and heads out to the Appalachian Trail. He's not one of these hiking folk I speak of, though, He's one of the other kinds of people that hang out at the at the fishing and camping kind. They like to spend their money on stuff like fancy hooks and plastic pants that places like BCF building camp and fishing and it's

bucf and fun. Hey. So Scott's in a great mood on this because he's also meeting up with his best mate, Sean Farmer, who he's been friends with since they were little kids, and they're going to spend the next few days camping and fishing and digging holes to shit in or whatever camping people do. Sounds horrible. The plan is that the fellows are going to meet up at this spot called Dismal Creek, which let me give you a sneak peak of what's to come by saying this place

could not be more aptly named. And while this is a pretty popular part of the trail with hikers and stuff, it's still deep in the bowels of the woods and pretty damn isolated, which I cannot understand how people are not like terrified of the woods. You're so remote and so far away from everything. There are animals out there, like bears and mountain lions, and what if you fall and hurt yourself and you can't walk and you're in

the middle of nothing. It's like if a tree falls in the forest, does anybody here, saying goes for screams, But let's carry on. Sean and Scott love the outdoorsy life, though, and they're fairly local to the area, and they've camped out there several times before, so they're familiar with it. And also it's worth mentioning here that Sean is a

big unit. I mean, you'll come to learn that he is a lovely man, but at first glance he's six ' five and around one hundred and seventy two kegs, so you know, he's not the kind of guy you want to fuck around with. I find Sean and Scott to be names that are too similar, and I would find myself getting confused between the two when I was reading stuff about them. So from this point forward, I'm going to refer to Sean as Big Sean, just to help

with the imagery. So on this day, Scott heads up to the mountains on his own and gets to the river and sets up his rod and real and whatever other Rex Hunt themed paraphernalia fishing folk carry with them and starts trying to catch some fish. And he's having a cracker of a day because he bags himself six big trout, which I think is a pink fish, I

don't know. Scott's very pleased with his efforts, so once he's had enough for the day, puts all those poor dead fishes into an eski, ops back into his car, and starts to head back up the mountain where he's going to meet Big Sean at their designated campsite. It's during this drive back up the mountain that Scott spots this very sad looking, malmourish dog on the road, and it was pretty clear that this poor thing was just

not in great shape. So Scott stops his car and gets out to check on the dog, and he notices this guy walking up from the creek bank and they start having this friendly little chit chat, and this guy tells Scott, you know, don't even bother trying to fish in that river because there's no fish in there, and

Scott bless him. He's like, you know what, I had great luck in there today, and he opens up his eski and offers this stranger some of his trout, which I mean is also probably a bit of a flex because he might be thinking, yeah, maybe you're just a shit fisherman, because he's what the elite among us can reeling. And this strange guy, according to Scott, just look like a standard camper. He was a bit older and a bit quote straggly looking. But you're not going to be

in your Sunday best in the forest, are you. This is the place that you go to be an absolute filthy pig and be one with the dirt. Anyways, Scott takes pity on this guy who just seems a bit shy and lonely, and he tells him where he and his mate will be camping over the next few days and says, you know, what, if you want, why don't you come past and have something to eat with us?

And the guy's like okay, and they part ways, and in a testament to just how lovely these country boys are, they say that there's this unwritten rule that when you're on the trail, the right thing to do is offer friendship and aid to any fellow bush lover that crosses

your path. I personally prefer the do not talk to stranger's line of thinking, but you know better than I. So it's later in the afternoon that Big Sean arrives at the camp site and Scott isn't there yet, but he knows he's been there because his tent's already up

and whatever. So Big Sean gets busy pitching his tent, and it's at this point that old mate from back of the river he appears and he tells Sean about how he'd just met Scott earlier in the day and how he'd invited him to come and eat with them.

Big Sean is just like, cool, I'm Sean, And the guy introduces himself as Ricky Williams, and I I would have introduced myself as majorly fucking annoyed, because imagine gearing up for a night to just hang out with your best mate, and now you've got some rando from god knows where he to crush your party. Anyway, I'm tipping it was likely trout for dinner, and because Scott's a chef, I figure he's probably prepared some kind of lemonon herbaoli

to go with it. And the trio just spent a few hours eating and having beers and telling stories, and according to Scott, he's entailed a lot of sports and fishing combo, which riveting. So by this point it's dark and Ricky has really been making the most of the hospitality of our friends Scott and Big Sean, because not only did he eat the food, he drank the drinks and lots of them. He guzzled their beers down with the reckless abandon of a star full forward at his

footy club's best and fairest night. So needless to say, he was pretty buzzed. And then, just as Big Sean and Scott are probably thinking can you please go home, Ricky finally decides to boot. He gets up, he calls for that poor skinny dog of his and just starts to walk off. Just seconds after Ricky walks behind Scott

and Big Sean and out of their view. Big Sean says that he hears this massive boom, which is followed by this unbelievably loud ringing in his head, and he's just kind of stunned for a few seconds because he's trying to figure out what the fuck's just happened. And Scott, who's sitting right beside him, he knows what's just happened because he's just seen this unwelcome and unappreciative strange dinner guests outstretched arm unload a bullet into the side of

his best mate Big Sean's face. Yes, a bullet, as in the kind that comes out of a gun into the face. Big Sean's mouth swells up immediately and he can't speak because he has a very swollen, very blood filled, very damaged mouth. And then his vision on that side starts to fade, but not enough for him to miss the mini fireworks display of the gun discharging towards his

friend Scott. This is the kind of dinner and a show deal that no one wants to be invited to, So you know, Scott's just seen his best friend get shot in the side of the face, and he's also

cocked one. And now he's up and running away from the campsite and further into the woods, and he's ducking and weaving because he can hear the gun going off behind him, because ungrateful Ricky is, you know, having a bit of target practice with him, and Scott is so frantic that he doesn't even register that he's been shot, not the first time or the second time, which happens as he's running away. And it's now as Scott takes refuge by squatting down in this cluster of trees, that

he actually realizes that he's been shot. And by realizers, I mean, and I'm going to quote Scott directly here, and then I realized I was shot in the neck. I could actually see the blood like squirting a foot every time my heart would beat. I mean, it was

just pulsing out of me. And if that gave you the he begbis, then I suggest you assume the brace position for this next bit, which is when Scottie Boy has a feel around his neck and he locates the hole in which the bullet has entered and so he takes his finger and sticks it inside the hole to essentially plug it up and stem the bleeding. I wonder if that's an instinctual thing, like if the brain just tells you what to do to save yourself, because I'm

pretty sure I wouldn't have thought of that. So here's where we are. We know Scott's crouching down in the bushes fingering his neck hole, So let's cut back and see what's happening with our gentle giant Big Sean. Well, he's understandably a bit unsteady on his feet, having been shot in the face and all, but he watched things unfold as Ricky Riccardo fired a couple of bullets into his best mate. So Big Sean makes the big decision to just charge at this worst dinner guest of all time,

because what else are you gonna do? And that is when Ricky raises his arm and loads another bullet right into Big Sean's chest, almost at point blank range and in some kind of superhuman feet of I don't know, a rock solid unwillingness to die. Big Sean stumbles back for a sec and then just makes a run for his cheek. Riccardo is right on his tail because of course he wants to finish the job off. But somehow

Big Sean makes it to his jeep. The keys are inside, but just as Big Sean gets in and he's fumbling with the keys, he sees Ricky at his window and he's pointing the gun at him, and when he pulls the trigger nothing, He's obviously run out of bullets, so as he starts to reload, Big Sean turns the key, pumps that accelerator gets the fuck out of there. I mean, this isn't saying much for me, but I probably would have taken this opportunity to run Ricky over at this point.

But I'm also a bit of a shit talker because I once run over a dead bird on the street and I could not get past it for days afterwards. So who knows what you're going to do in those moments. And remember Scott, who's still hiding in the bushes with his finger in his neck. He spots the lights of Sean's jeep, so he makes a run towards it, and he makes it to the road just in time for their parts to cross, which is like unbelievable luck. And Big Jawn stops, Scott gets in and they gun it.

Now HARKing back to the shitness of being so remote, the guys are both very aware at this point that there at least I don't know, eight k's from the nearest home where they might be able to get help, and they're probably around sixty five k's from the nearest hospital, and they are feeling less than chipper. And to make matters worse again, because this is nature, there are no street lights to help guide your way down this terrifying country road. I mean, it's not really even a proper road.

It's like a path that has sections of just straight drops down the side. And apparently, in the full light of day, you'd be driving around thirty k's an hour to ensure you don't go flying right off the edge. But our two wounded heroes here, they don't have the luxury of safety first, so they're doing around eighty in

pitch black darkness. And let's recap. They've both been shot twice, one in the neck and the back and the other who is the one who's driving, in the side of the face and the chest, and they are in full survival mode because not only is there an excessive amount of blood pulling around them in the car. Scott's car is back at the campsite with the keys in the ignition, so this is like Christmas time for Ricky Ricardo, so the boys are pretty sure that he'll be coming up

behind them very soon. And then things sort of just go from bad to worse because there's a point where they hit a very sharp bend in the road and the wheels go out from under them and they start to skid and they narrowly miss going over an edge with a seven hundred meter drop before the car comes to a stop and thank god the car is still on. But our driver, Big Sean, he's not in good shape. He's telling Scott that he's losing his vision and he's

starting to black out. So Scott's like, okay, ol stere and you work the pedals. So he leans over and grabs the wheel with one hand because remember the other one is in the neck hole, and he calls out to Big Sean when to accelerate and when to break and so on. I mean, that is really quite remarkable. Vic Rhades would be very impressed, but it's also fucked until finally this ultimate teamwork slash Frankenstein Drive is over. Hallelujah.

They've made it to the bottom of the mountain, where they stop the car at like the third house they pass, and Scott runs to the door and starts banging and screaming call nine one one. Let's spare a thought here for the occupant of the house, Paul Melissa Miller, because I reckon, there isn't much scarier than a nighttime knock at the door coupled with a man's frantic voice screaming

call nine one one. Not good. Mel says that she initially thought it was one of her son's friends playing a joke on her for shits and gigs, and I mean, that does sound exactly like something a stupid teenage boy would find hilarious. But she quickly realizes that this is the real when she opens the door to a blood soaked man fingering his neck hole and a very big Sean who is staggering his way towards the house, also covered in blood, with the gunshot wound to the head

and the chest. I mean, of course you'd open the door and help, but geez, it would surely take you a minute or two to process that. Mal immediately calls nine to one one, knowing that the closest hospital is pretty far away, and I mean, i'd imagine you'd be raiding your medicine cabinet, like I don't reckon these jumbo size pandaids are gonna cut it. But Mel gives them blankets to keep them warm for the forty five excruciating

minutes it takes for the Ambos to arrive. And I wonder if at any point he is Scott asked Big Sean, Hey, you know when you were taking off in the jeep, were you just gonna leave me out there? And then would Big Sean have been you know, wouldn't even be in this situation if you hadn't have invited some random do our campsite for dinner. Both fair points, but also that conversationation probably never even happened, because that's just me assuming.

So the Ambos arrive, and thank god they had the good sense to send a chopper out because there is no way that Scott and Big Sean would have survived a standard Ambo road trip because at this point Scott started spinning up blood, which I'm no doctor, but I think he's a pretty bad sign. And also that rush of adrenaline is probably starting to wear off, so you can imagine the kind of pain that's starting to kick in hard at this point. And poor Scott, this is

so horrible. But he says that while he's in the chop art, the ambos state him, so he can't move his body as such, but he can hear them talking and one of them says that she can't find a pulse. So Scott's thinking that maybe he's dead and he doesn't even realize it, and that is fucked. But buck up because as soon as that helicopter lands at Roano Hospital and they open the door and that cold night air rushes in, Scott realizes that he's a bit nippley, so he must in fact be alive, and now he's in

the hospital, so his prob's going to be okay. Sure, And while Big Shan and Scott are finally safe in Huzzy, a retired local cop called Tom Lawson gets word about what's just happened, and the hairs on the back of his next stand on end as he starts putting the possible pieces together about how this event would all be connected to a murder case in the exact same location

that rocked the local community twenty seven years earlier. So back in May of nineteen eighty one, police in the town of Peisburg, Virginia start receiving calls about two missing hikers on the Appalachian Trail who'd failed to show up at their latest stop. Robert Mountford and Susan Ramsey were twenty seven year old social workers who were hiking the trail to raise money to build a facility for troubled kids,

which the beauty in that just makes this even more fucked. Anyway, they get to Dismal Creek and they come across this guy who appeared a bit shy and nervous, but they strike up a convo with him, and he offers to help them get to their next rest stop because this is his hood. He's very familiar with it, so they

follow him. Tom Lawson, that retired cop that I was just talking about, he was the local deputy sheriff at the time, and he and some fellow officers head out to the trail, which they're very familiar with also, and they start looking around and they come up to this recently built little area called the Wapiti Shelter, and Tom says that when they step in, they notice that the wood flooring is very dark, like it has been stained with something, and when he pulls up one of the boards,

he sees this massive puddle of blood. Strong indicator that something is not right. So they start searching the immediate area surrounding the shelter and they spot something red under a pile of leaves, and when they go over and brush the leaves away, they see a sleeping bag and inside they find the body of Susan Ramsey. And the very next day, when they take the police dogs out to the area, they find the remains of rob It and based on other evidence they find, they're able to

piece together what happened. So it's believed that the pair

were attacked while they were sleeping in the shelter. Robert was shot in the head, However, the first bullet didn't penetrate his skull, so as he was I can only assume trying to get up and also register what the hell had just happened to him, He's shot again, right in the cheek, and this time the bullet heads upwards and into his brain and it kills him and then Susan, who God, I cannot even imagine the fear, she makes a run for it, but this mad fuck catches her

and hits her with a wrought iron fireplace poke. This knocks her down to the ground, where he then stabs her multiple times with a big spike nail that was found at the scene. The community are completely freaked out by this, so there's a real hunt to capture this piece of shit. The cops complete shut down this section of the trail so they can really spend time collecting more evidence, which they do find hidden in weird places like in knot holes, in tree trunks and under rocks

and other areas of nature. They end up finding a couple of books that belonged to Susan, and on one of those books was the sole piece of evidence that could help find the killer, a single bloody fingerprint. But there's still no suspect. That is until they come across the truck of a man who'd been reported missing right around the time the murders happened, and inside the truck was a handwritten note saying that the owner had been kidnapped. Strange.

Cops run the red joe of the truck and trace it back to a guy named Randal Lee Smith, so they start doing some digging into this guy, and they find that not only is the handwriting on the letter a perfect match to Randall's handwriting, but he's sketchy, as locals who knew him told police that he was known in the community as OL, which stood for lying Randal because you guessed it, he was a liar and not of the harmless you know, Sorry, I can't go out tonight.

My back saw variety. He was a compulsive liar who spun stories so far fetched that people just knew not to trust or believe anything that came out of his mouth. So cops go to Randall's home in Peisburg and surprise, surprise, they see that it pretty much backs right onto the woods near where Susan and Roberts's remains were found. But of course it was a case of knock, knock, no

one's home. So at this point they are very keen to chat with Randall because a few hikers had also identified him in a picture as having seen him with the pair on the trail on the day of the murders.

And eventually they track him down in South Carolina and they haul his ass back to Virginia for questioning, and in true psycho fashion, he refuses to give them any information at all, even when they match his fingerprints to that lone bloody one on Susan's book and charge him with the double homicide of Susan Ramsey and Robert Mountfort. So you'd think that with this incriminating fingerprint match, it'd

be Dunski case closed. See you later, Randy boy, because the death penalty was still alive and very well in Virginia at the time, So if he didn't get that, he'd surely be spending the rest of his days in prison. Wrong because on the morning of the trial, the prosecuting attorney decided that despite the fact that his case had rock solid physical evidence tying him to the murders, it wasn't quite enough. So he made a plea deal with

Randall's defense attorneys. And, as happens in so many stories we've heard before and continue to hear today, the frustratingly unjust justice system, the one that's meant to protect the public by putting away those who have done wrong, failed. So Randal Lee Smith pled guilty to two counts of second degree murder in exchange for a reduced sentence of

fifteen years per life. He took thirty years in total for the violent and unbelievably senseless murder of two innocent twenty seven year olds who were just out there doing a hike to raise money to help kids in need. And worse still, because he was a good boy in prison, the courts thought it'd be a good idea to release him after serving just half of his sentence. So in nineteen ninety six, fifteen years after the murders of Susan Ramsey and Robert Mountford, Randal Lee Smith, aged forty two,

was released back into society. He returned to the home that he'd grown up in and shared with his mother and just went on living his life. And he spent a lot of time in those woods because they were practically his backyard. He spent so much time there that twelve years later, in March of two thousand and eight, he just disappeared into them. Cops put missing posters around town,

but no one had seen him. And I don't know, this feels like it should have been like a major man hunt, like on the national news and stuff, because this was a convicted killer on the loose, And how is this for a full circle moment? Just as Scott Johnston was being wheeled into surgery, a police officer shows him one of those missing posters of Randall and Scott takes one look and he's like, one hundred percent that's him.

So now everyone is looking for Randal Smith, and it wasn't long before a local cop spotted him driving Scott's pickup truck, which proves he was pretty fucking dumb as well, driving around in the car of the person you just tried to kill. Anyway, when Randall spotted the police car behind him, he pushed that pedal to the medal and sped right off and crashed Scott's car into an embankment, where it rolled onto its roof and pinned him down. So they've got him, and when they take him into

the station and question him, he denies it all. But when the questioning officer is like, listen, Allah, remember lying, Randal, we know it was you. Did you shoot those boys? And Randal says, quote, well, if I did, it wasn't my gun. It was theirs Oki dokie. And of course the gun Randall was carrying at the time of the accident was indeed a match for the gun that fired

the shots into Scott and Big Sean. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that two men can be shot twice, one in the head, at point blank range and it not killed them. And even Paul Robert, who'd been shot in the head back in nineteen eighty one, that first bullet didn't kill him either. So what's going on with this gun, because it sounds a bit like Randall might have purchased it from whatever the reject shop

equivalent for guns and ammo is. Tom Lawson, the cop who'd worked on the original case of Robin Susan he reckons that Randal likely used the same gun and ammunition for the nineteen eighty one murders and the attempted murder of Scott and Big Sean, and this means that they would have been way past there used by date, which is potentially what saved Sean and Scott's lives. Who knew bullets went off and who knows how old those bullets

were back in eighty one. They could have been ones that Randal's grandfather had on a shelf somewhere in the shed for all we know. So maybe that explains that police did eventually find Randall's campsite in the woods and there were some very unnerving things there, which included over twenty bladed instruments such as knives and meat cleavers, Scott's sunglasses,

and how's this. They also found a stash of drawings and symbols that were identified as being consistent with the pagan religion Wicca, whose core beliefs center around worshiping nature and the elements, and the head Honchos are believed to be witches worshiping nature and stuff. That seems all right, But have a listen to this prayer that they found

with Randall's stuff. Hail to the Guardians of the Watchtower of the North, by the powers of Mother and Earth, hear me, show me thy glory, I invoke thee And if you're thinking, I'm sure I've heard that somewhere before, then may I cast your mind back to the nineteen ninety six cult classics starring Nev Campbell the Craft his actress Robin Tunney reciting the very same thing, Hell to the Guardians of the Watchtowers of the North, by the powers of Mother and Earth, hear us? Hey, And also,

how is this for a weird coinky dic? That movie came out in ninety six, which was the year that Randall was released from prison, weird, And as forgetting some kind of answers or resolution as to why lying Randal did all of these horrible things, while that ever came because just a day after his arrest, he was found dead in his jail cell. An autopsy report indicated that the fifty four year old had died from a blood clot that had formed in the accident when he crashed

Scott's car. And as if he was going to tell the truth anyway, So what became of our friends Scott and Big Sean. Well they're both alive, which is a maz imagine after all that I'd said. Unfortunately, they didn't

make it. Scott's surgery was successful, but he was like the luckiest unlucky person ever because his surgeon told him that the bullet in his neck had missed his carottid artery by one millimeter, which, if you need a visual luck I did, that's like the tip of a sewing needle, and had it penetrated that artery, he would have bled out in under five minutes. At one point, doctors weren't sure whether Scott would be able to talk or swallow again.

So there was this moment where they thought that he may have to live with a feeding tube, and Scott says that when they spoke to him about it, he said, quote, either I'll swallow or I'll die. And hadn't we all been there? That's inappropriate anyway. After a speedy six day recovery in hospital following his surgery, Scott was released to finish recuperating at home with the bullets still lodged dangerously close to his fine like a quarter of an inch

kind of close. And just like Scott and friend of the Pod Mary Joe Barafuco from a few episodes ago, Big Sean's bullets also remain in his body to this day. The one from the chest shot sits right near his ribs and the other that he took to the side of the face is firmly lodged in his sinus cavity.

And even though this awful experience that Big Sean and Scott lived through has resulted in astronomical medical debts for both of them, like something in the area of eighty grand because you know that's what happens in the good old USA when you don't have medical insurance, they have lived their lives, focusing on the positives of their experience, which is to just be grateful for what you have and when face with tough situations, you fight to the

end and you never give up poetic and they certainly haven't because to this day, Sean and Scott still often make time to visit the Appalachian Trail together to do the shit they've always loved to do, like fish and camp and talk sports and crap. And I guess this is a very conscious decision not to let Randal Smith take that away from them, So I'll wrap up time.

Stories like this really rat on me because I guess it's the kind of thing that makes you scared to be nice, like Scott and Sean were just being kind when they shared their trout and bees with this man that they just thought was a bit of a sad loaner. And we don't want to let bad people take that humanity away from us. We don't want a second guest doing what comes naturally to most of us. But we also have to recognize that we live in a world where people do bad things. So I don't know what

the answer is there. But on the flip side, geez, what a beautiful example of friendship and teamwork. Good job, fellas. I'm sure you're listening. Also, if you're wondering what happened to that poor dog that Randal had with him, me too. I couldn't find much about what happened to this good boy except one video that said his name was Bo and he was adopted out to a family who cared for him and loved him. I mean, is that true? I don't know, but let's assume it is because it

will make us feel better. But here is the main takeaway. I think, don't fuck up your kids. Because Randal Lee Smith said distick animal he was had a pretty rough childhood. His dad left when he was very little. His uncle, who lived next door, would constantly take him out into the forest. And I shouldn't say this because it's not fair to make heinous assumptions about people like I am in my head right now. But something about that feels off.

Perhaps I've just read one too many true crime stories. But Randal's mother also used to do stuff like dress him up as a girl when he was little. Witch. Of course, if that's what your child wants, then I say,

go forth and do what's best for your kid. However, if your child doesn't want that, which it doesn't sound like Randall did, and you're sending him to school in dresses and bows in his hair where he's mercilessly bullied and ostracized, well I think that's a pretty strong indicator that perhaps mum isn't doing too well on the mental front there either. So let's just look out for each other, is what I'm saying. So profound the end, lots of light and shade in that one, mostly shade, but you know,

our best mate heroes got us through. Please don't forget to rate, review and subscribe. It helps a lot, and it's an extremely cost effective way of supporting us because it's free. Can't get much cheaper than that. We understand, Couse he lives, and I'm sure you're well and truly sick of my voice. So I'm going to boot. We'll be back in your ears soon, but until then, as always, take care of yourselves. Thank you for listening. Love him, Let's see the guest, Let's do me