Episode 3 - All She Ever Wanted

 This week on Dog Days of Murder, a 19-year-old woman vanishes on her way to work, leaving behind more questions than answers. Investigators piece together a case using groundbreaking image enhancement, forensic entomology, and an unlikely source of evidence hidden in the trunk of a car. It's the story of Lori Auker—and how some of the smallest clues became impossible to ignore. 

Sources

Commonwealth v. Auker, 545 Pa. 521, 681 A.2d 1305 (Pa. 1996).

 Jake Rossen, “How NASA Helped Solve a Murder,” Mental Floss, March 17, 2025. 

 George Pallas, “Old Crime Is New Again: The Murder of Lori Auker,” Old Crime Is New Again. 

 “NASA Helps Solve a Murder,” History.com, updated May 27, 2025. 

 Pennsylvania State Police laboratory testimony and forensic evidence discussed in Commonwealth v. Auker. 

 Forensic entomology testimony of Dr. K. C. Kim discussed in Commonwealth v. Auker. 

 Image-enhancement testimony of Al Tietjen and related trial evidence discussed in Commonwealth v. Auker and “How NASA Helped Solve a Murder.” 

Forensic Files, “Cats, Flies and Snapshots,” Season 6, Episode 27.

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If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, help is available 24 hours a day through the National Domestic Violence Hotline. Call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233), text "START" to 88788, or visit www.thehotline.org to chat online with an advocate.

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Transcript

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SPEAKER_00 0:02

You make me nervous when your nose to the ground like that. I'm watching you. Where you going? What's that? No no no, leave it. Oh my gosh, who leaves a whole rotisserie chicken on the ground? No, don't. No no. Let's go over here. Sometimes animals find what humans leave behind. And sometimes they leave exactly what matters. This is Dog Days of Murder, where your love of animals meets your fascination with true crime. Hey animal lovers, welcome back to Dog Days of Murder. I'm your host, Paula, and this is my sidekick Ayn. Say hi, Ayn. It's lovely to have you here. I have a question. What is the worst thing your dog has ever found on a walk? Or the worst thing your cat has ever brought home? Send me your story. You can either email me or direct message me on Instagram, and I'll read your story here. Really? You can email at dogdaysofmurder at gmail dot com or you can find us at Dog Days of Murder on Instagram. Okay, let's get to the episode. Today is all she ever wanted the story of Lori Aucker. As always, a quick heads up. This is a true crime podcast featuring real investigations and the animals connected to them. Today's episode includes domestic violence and homicide. Listener discretion is advised. It may also include contented purring, meowing at the closed bathroom door, and knocking things off a countertop. You have been warned. Like a lot of girls growing up, I wanted to be a veterinarian. My only backup plan was to be a horse trainer. Animals were never just pets to me. They were where I wanted to spend my time. As a kid, I spent more time with my horse than I did doing homework or cleaning my room. There was almost always a stray dog hanging around that I was trying to feed, convinced I could somehow rescue every one of them. When I was about thirteen, I built my own chicken coop so I could raise chickens in our backyard. Looking back, it's probably no surprise that my room was never as clean as my mom would have liked, and usually contained objects like buckets and hay hooks. Life has a funny way of taking us places we didn't expect. I never did become a veterinarian. But after working with all kinds of animals over the years, I eventually found my way into dog grooming. As of today, I've spent thirty four years making a living caring for dogs. Maybe that little girl didn't end up exactly where she thought she would. But somehow she still ended up right where she belonged. That's one of the reasons Lori Ann Auker's story has stayed with me. Lori loved animals too. She wasn't dreaming about being famous or wealthy. She wanted to become a veterinarian. She worked in a pet store, loved caring for animals, and was just beginning to build a future around something that had captured her heart for as long as anyone could remember. It's a dream so many of us shared when we were young. For me, life simply took a different path. For Lori, well, she never got the chance to find out where hers could have led. Wednesday, may twenty fourth, nineteen eighty nine, began like so many other spring mornings in North Cumberland County, Pennsylvania. Nineteen year old Lori Anne Auker left her parents home and headed to work. There was nothing unusual about the day. No reason for her family to believe that by nightfall, everything they knew about their lives would have changed. At nineteen, Lori was just beginning to build the life she wanted. She loved animals, always had. Becoming a veterinarian wasn't just something she talked about as a little girl and forgotten as she grew older. It was still the dream she was working toward. In the meantime, she had found a job she genuinely enjoyed at the pet place in the Susquehanna Valley Mall in Sellens Grove. Every day she was surrounded by the animals she loved, learning a little more about their care and imagining the day she might be able to help them as a veterinarian. Co workers recounted to forensic files that Lori brought her young son to the store sometimes. He was perfectly happy, entertaining himself, spending time with the kittens or standing in front of the fish tanks, completely absorbed as brightly colored fish drifted back and forth through the water. It was such an ordinary picture a young mother at work, a little boy watching fish, kittens climbing over each other while customers wandered through the store. Those are the moments that make up a life. Quiet moments, everyday moments, the kind we rarely stop to appreciate until they're gone. Life hadn't turned out exactly the way Lori had hoped. Her marriage to Robert Auker was falling apart. She'd moved back into her parents' home with her young son and her two cats while she tried to put the pieces back together. It wasn't the future she'd imagined, but it was a chance to begin again, and she was surrounded by the people who loved her. She was working hard, she was raising her son, she was making plans for the future. Like so many nineteen year olds, she believed she still had time to figure everything out, and she should have. She couldn't have known that when she pulled out of the driveway that Wednesday morning, she was leaving behind the ordinary life she'd been working so hard to rebuild. Lori Aukar was only nineteen years old. Robert Aker was twenty six. Like many young women, Lori had married right out of high school. Before she was old enough to celebrate her twentieth birthday, she was already a wife and a mother, and trying to find a way out of a marriage that had become frightening. From the outside, their marriage probably looked like so many others. They had a little boy. They were building a life together. But behind closed doors that life was beginning to unravel. By the spring of nineteen eighty nine, Lori had separated from Robert and moved back into her parents' home. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was one she believed she needed to make. She was living there with her young son and her two cats. Likewise, Robert moved in with his parents. Even after the separation, Robert remained a constant presence in her life. They shared a child, and with that came custody exchanges, phone calls, and unavoidable contact. Every conversation had the potential to become another argument. Every meeting was another reminder that although the marriage was ending, Robert wasn't completely out of her life. The people around Lori began to notice changes. She was afraid. Not the kind of fear that announces itself in dramatic ways. The quieter kind, the kind people carry with them every day. She talked to friends about Robert's temper. She confided in co workers. Sometimes when her shift at the pet place ended, she didn't want to walk to her car alone. Coworkers would walk outside with her, making sure she reached her car safely before heading to their own vehicles. Inside her bedroom at her parents' house, Lori kept cans of mace close by. Two to three weeks before she disappeared, her mother found two shotguns beneath Lori's bed. Lori explained that she kept them there in case Robert came to the house while her parents were away and she was alone with her son. She was afraid he might try to take their little boy, and she wanted to be able to protect them both. Those details paint a picture that no police report ever could. This wasn't simply the end of a marriage. It was a nineteen year old young woman who had already experienced far more fear than anyone should have to carry. Even so, life had to go on. She still went to work. She still cared for her son. She still held on to the hope that once the divorce was behind her, she could finally begin the next chapter of her life. She had even begun dating again. Nothing serious, just casually, stepping back into normalcy. She never stopped moving forward. She knew enough to be afraid. She just didn't know how little time she had left. Wednesday, may twenty fourth, nineteen eighty nine started like any other day. Lori was living with her parents in Point Township while she and Robert worked their way through the divorce. Their young son wasn't home that day. He was spending the week with Robert as part of a scheduled visitation. At around three hundred thirty that afternoon, Lori got ready for work. She climbed into her brown nineteen seventy six Pontiac Lamons, said goodbye to her parents, and headed toward the Susquehanna Valley Mall. She was due to start her shift at four o'clock at the pet place, located near the Bonton entrance. It was a drive she had made countless times before, and there was nothing unusual about it. Nothing to suggest this day would be any different from all the others that had come before it. As Lori pulled away, Ruth watched her daughter drive off. It's one of those moments none of us ever think about. A wave goodbye, a daughter leaving for work, a mother expecting to see her again in a few hours. If Ruth held on to that moment just a little longer than usual, history doesn't tell us. Most likely she simply went back inside the house and continued with her afternoon. At exactly four o'clock the telephone rang. It was Lori's supervisor at the pet place. Lori hadn't come to work. She wasn't just running a few minutes behind, she hadn't arrived at all. Richard and Ruth didn't waste time. Their first thought wasn't that someone had hurt their daughter. It was the same thought any parent would probably have. Maybe the pontiac had broken down. Maybe she had had a flat tire. Maybe she was sitting on the shoulder of the road, waiting for someone to stop and help. They got in the car and began driving the route Lori would have taken from their home to the mall. They scanned both sides of the road for any sign of the brown Laman's. Every mile they drove without finding her probably brought a little relief. Maybe she made it. Maybe she's already at work. Maybe everything's fine. When they reached the Susquehanna Valley Mall, they found Lori's car. It was parked near the Bonton entrance, not far from the pet place where she was supposed to be working. The doors were locked. There was no sign that anything was wrong with the car. There was just one problem. Lori wasn't there. She had made it to work. Or at least she had made it to the parking lot. Richard Almond, Lori's dad, contacted the Pennsylvania State Police and reported his nineteen year old daughter missing. Somewhere between getting out of her car and walking through the doors of the pet place, Lori Aker had vanished. The discovery of Lori's car changed everything. Up until that moment, Richard and Ruth Alman had hoped there was a simple explanation. But now her pontiac was sitting exactly where it should have been. But Lori wasn't where she should have been. After Richard reported Lori missing, Pennsylvania State Police responded to the Susquehanna Valley Mall. They began where any investigation would begin. The last place anyone knew where Lori had been. Her car was photographed. The parking lot was searched. Witnesses were interviewed. Investigators were looking for anything, even the smallest clue, something that might explain how a nineteen year old woman could simply disappear from a busy shopping mall parking lot. Then they learned something that must have felt almost unbelievable. Mounted above an automated teller machine at Northern Central Bank, there was a security camera. Today, that probably wouldn't sound remarkable. Parking lots are covered with cameras. Every angle is recorded, every movement is captured. But in nineteen eighty nine, this was something very different. The camera wasn't there to watch the parking lot. It wasn't recording video. It was there to photograph customers using the ATM. Every ten seconds it captured a single still image before waiting another ten seconds to take the next one. The system continuously recorded over the same tape, meaning the images themselves were already beginning to deteriorate. Investigators immediately wondered whether the camera had captured Lori. When they reviewed the tape, they found only three photographs that appeared to matter. A fourth image had been lost as the tape degraded over time. The first photograph was taken at three hundred forty seven and twenty four seconds that afternoon. It showed a young woman walking across the parking lot toward the mall. She was dressed in clothing consistent with what Lori had been wearing when she left home that afternoon. Ten seconds later, the second photograph showed the same young woman standing beside the open passenger door of a car. The vehicle had pulled across her path and stopped in the wrong lane of travel. Its brake lights were glowing. It looked as though she was leaning toward the person inside, maybe speaking to the driver, maybe listening. The camera couldn't answer that. It simply captured the moment. Ten seconds after that, the third photograph was taken. The young woman was gone. This time, the camera captured only the rear of the vehicle as it drove away from the mall parking lot. In just twenty seconds, Lori had gone from walking toward work to disappearing completely. For investigators, those three photographs became the last known images of Lori Aker. They also raised a question that would haunt the investigation. Who was driving that car? With no sign of Lori, investigators turned their attention to the people who knew her best. They started with her family, then her friends, then the co-workers she saw almost every day at the pet place. One name kept coming up Robert Auker, Lori's estranged husband. Their marriage had been falling apart for months, and those closest to her described a relationship marked by fear. Her co-workers told investigators that Lori was afraid of Robert, afraid enough that she often asked someone to walk her to her car after work. One coworker remembered a day when Robert showed up at the mall looking for her. Rather than risk a confrontation, Lori and her boyfriend left together in his car and stayed away until Robert finally gave up and left. Her family shared those same concerns. They knew why Lori kept Mace nearby. They knew why they were shotguns under her bed. Those weren't the actions of a young woman who felt safe. As detectives continued piecing together Robert's movements on may twenty fourth, they learned he had taken his adoptive parents nineteen eighty four Chevy celebrity that morning without asking permission. That immediately caught their attention. Not because they knew it was the same car captured in the ATM photographs. They didn't. But they did know the unknown vehicle appeared to be a Chevy celebrity. The photos were too grainy to identify the driver. There was no way to read the license plate. No clear view of the driver's face. By themselves, the photographs proved very little. Robert's access to a Chevy celebrity didn't prove anything either. But investigations are not built on a single piece of evidence. They're built one fact at a time. One interview, one photograph, one lead, one decision. And together, those pieces gave investigators their first real direction. For nineteen days Lori's family waited for news. They searched, they hoped, they prayed. Then on june twelfth, nineteen eighty nine, everything changed. It was a hot afternoon when a young woman was walking down a dirt road near her grandparents' home in North Cumberland County. She caught the smell first. Curious, she walked toward it. There, lying in a wooded area, was the badly decomposed body of a young woman dressed in a jacket, jeans, and sneakers. She ran back to her grandparents' house and the family immediately called police. Deputy Coroner Matthew Ollie responded to this scene, and the body was taken to the morgue for an autopsy. Although decomposition had made the identification difficult, the clothing was familiar. Dental records confirmed what everyone had feared. The body was Lori Aker. doctor Isidor Mihalakis, the forensic pathologist who conducted the examination, determined that Lori's death was a homicide. Her jacket and sweater contained holes consistent with seven to ten stab wounds to her back and chest. The wounds would have pierced vital organs. But because Lori's body was already largely skeletonized, those organs had been lost to decomposition and insect activity before the autopsy could be performed. There was one more question investigators desperately needed answered. When had Lori died? To help determine that, doctor Mihilakis collected insects from the body and the surrounding area and sent them to forensic entomologist doctor KC Kim.

unknown 18:14

Dr.

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Kim explained that different insects arrive at different stages of decomposition. Their growth is influenced by temperature, weather conditions, and whether a body is left in an open field, a shaded area, or another environment. Using weather records, the conditions at the scene, the autopsy findings, and the insects themselves, doctor Kim estimated that Lori's body had been decomposing for between nineteen and twenty five days. Lori had disappeared nineteen days earlier. The science pointed investigators back to may twenty fourth, the day Lori vanished, the day she never made it into work. The day the ATM camera captured the images of a car blocking Lori's path. The search for a missing woman was over. Now investigators had to answer who had killed her. The entomology findings had answered one important question. Lori had not been killed weeks after she disappeared. She had died on may twenty fourth, the same day she vanished from the parking lot at Susquehanna Valley Mall. With that timeline established, investigators returned to the evidence they believed had been waiting for them all along. The Chevy celebrity Robert Auker had been driving that afternoon. Then investigators learned something that immediately caught their attention. The day following Lori's disappearance, a witness watched Robert cleaning the Chevy. Not washing the outside, cleaning the inside. The witness testified that Robert meticulously vacuumed the front passenger compartment before moving to the trunk where he vacuumed and scrubbed it clean. It wasn't the kind of hurried cleanup that most people give a car. He appeared to be concentrating on removing anything that had been left behind. Just two days later, on may twenty seventh, Robert's parents traded the Chevy to a local car dealer, Jack Miller. From there, the car changed hands several times. It passed through another dealership where employees later testified that it needed a little more than a routine vacuuming before being offered for sale. On June eighth, it was sold at auction to Jim Ebby, who purchased it for a retired Pennsylvania state trooper. The trooper had planned to give the car to his stepdaughter. As it happened, she had not earned her driver's license yet. That fortunate coincidence may have preserved the evidence investigators were hoping to find. Because the Chevy had not yet gone into regular use, it hadn't been filled with new passengers, pets, groceries, sports equipment, or weeks of everyday debris. When investigators asked for the vehicle, the retired trooper immediately cooperated. Everyone known to have been inside the Chevy after it left the Auker family voluntarily provided hair samples so forensic scientists could eliminate them from consideration. Only then did the laboratory examination begin. State police criminologists carefully searched every inch of the Chevrolet. Along the upper passenger side door seal and the passenger side door jam, they recovered several human hairs. Under microscopic examination, those hairs were found to be consistent with Lorie's. Their location was important. Investigators believed the hairs had been deposited as Lori was forced into the passenger side of the vehicle. Then the examination moved to the trunk. There, investigators found something they hadn't expected cat hairs. At first glance they might not have seemed especially remarkable. But these hairs immediately caught investigators' attention for another reason. Robert Auker's family did not own cats, but Lori did. The scientists carefully collected every cat hair they recovered from the trunk. They also recovered cat hairs from the Velcro wrist split Robert had been wearing around the time that Lori disappeared. But collecting the hairs was only the beginning. The real question was whether anyone could determine which cat they had come from. In 1989, most people would have assumed the answer was no. After all, cat hair is everywhere. If you've ever lived with a cat, you've probably found hair on your clothes after leaving the house, and on your furniture, and in your car, and somehow even in places that seem impossible. By itself, finding cat hair isn't unusual. The question wasn't whether investigators had found cat hair. The question was whether they could determine which cat it had come from. To answer that, investigators turned to the Pennsylvania State Police Crime Laboratory. The hairs recovered from the trunk of the Chevy and from Robert's Belcrow wrist splint were compared with the hair samples collected from Lori's cats. This wasn't DNA testing. That technology was not available in this case. It was too early. Instead, forensic scientists performed a microscopic comparison, examining the hairs for characteristics such as color, length, diameter, pigmentation, scale patterns, and the structure of the medulla, which is the central core of the hair. One characteristic alone meant very little, but when enough characteristics matched, the probability of the hairs coming from another animal became increasingly remote. The examination revealed something investigators had hoped, but could not have assumed. The hairs recovered from the trunk of the Chevy and from Robert's wrist splint were microscopically consistent with the hairs taken from Lori's cats, and that raised eyebrows. Because there was no innocent explanation for Lori's cat shedding hair inside the trunk of a car they had never occupied during ordinary family life. A car Robert hadn't used before. And the hairs found on Robert's wrist blint suggested he had come into direct contact with the same environment. Standing alone, the cat hair still couldn't identify Robert as Lori's killer. Just as the hairs found in the passenger side door couldn't prove exactly how Lori entered the car. Just as the entomology evidence couldn't identify who had killed her. But taken together, the evidence was beginning to reinforce itself. ATM photographs placed a woman dressed like Lori beside a Chevy celebrity. The entomology evidence established that Lori died on may twenty fourth. Human hairs consistent with Lori's were recovered from the passenger side of Robert's car. Cat hairs consistent with Lori's cats were recovered from the trunk and from the wrist split Robert had been wearing. Individually, each piece of evidence invited questions. Together, they told investigators they were no longer looking at coincidence. They were looking at a pattern. A pattern that prosecutors believed would ultimately convince a jury that Lori Auker's disappearance had not been a mystery at all. It had been a murder. But prosecutors still had a problem. The ATM surveillance photographs remained the only images capturing Lori's final moments, and they were frustratingly difficult to see. The tape had been reused over and over, degrading the images, and no license plate was visible. A skilled defense attorney could argue that identifying the make and model of the car from those grainy still frames was nothing more than speculation. North Cumberland County District Attorney Robert Sakovich wasn't willing to leave that question unanswered. He first turned to the Pennsylvania State Police and the FBI, hoping they could improve the images. The FBI managed to make slight improvements, but not enough to provide the clarity investigators needed. Sakovich then contacted Eastman Kodak, but they didn't have anyone who could help. Nearly a year into the investigation, someone offered an unexpected suggestion. Why not call NASA? At the time, NASA was leading the world in digital image enhancement. The same technology being used to clarify photographs from space missions and shuttle launches might also be able to improve a Warren Bank surveillance tape. Sakovich traveled to Kennedy Space Center in Florida, where he met computer systems engineer Al Tejin, who had previously worked on the investigation into the Challenger disaster of 1986, and Andy Casey, who worked for NASA subcontractor EGG Florida. It was the first criminal case Tejin had ever worked on. Using computer enhancement, Tejin divided the images into roughly two hundred and fifty thousand pixels. He adjusted the contrast, reduced the blur, and enlarged the photographs to three times their original size. Later, he emphasized that the process had not added anything or removed anything from the images. It simply made existing details easier to see. When the case finally went to trial, Tejin explained his methods to the jury, and the enhanced photographs were admitted into evidence over the defense's objections. Prosecutors also recreated the bank scene so jurors could compare the surveillance images with a Chevy celebrity positioned in the exact same location. A General Motors expert testified that the tail light assembly visible in the enhanced photographs was consistent with the nineteen eighty three or nineteen eighty four Chevrolet celebrity, the same model Robert Auker's family owned. Even then, no witnesses claimed the photographs proved the car belonged to Robert Auker. They didn't have to, though. Like the entomology, like the human hairs, like the cat hairs. The enhanced photographs became another piece of a carefully built circumstantial case, each part reinforcing the next until prosecutors believed the evidence pointed to one person and one person alone. By the time Robert Auker's case went to trial in the spring of nineteen ninety two, prosecutors knew they were asking the jury to decide a case built mostly and entirely on circumstantial evidence. There was no confession. No eyewitnesses had seen Lori forced into Robert's car. No murder weapon had ever been recovered. Instead, the Commonwealth presented what the Pennsylvania Supreme Court would later describe as a body of evidence that, when viewed together, established Robert Auger's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Jurors heard about the ATM surveillance photographs showing a woman investigators believed was Lori approaching a Chevy celebrity. They heard testimony that Robert had borrowed his parents' Chevy on may twenty fourth, and a witness watched him meticulously vacuum the passenger compartment and scrub the trunk the very next day. They learned that investigators recovered human hairs consistent with Lori's from the passenger side door seal and door jam. They also heard that cat hairs matching Lori's cats were found inside the trunk of the Chevy and on the Velcro wrist splint Robert had been wearing around the time of her disappearance. The prosecution also challenged Robert's account of where he had been that afternoon. Robert had told investigators that he was shopping for appliances at Sears at the same time Lori disappeared from the mall parking lot. Detectives tried to verify that story. A Sears salesman had written a note for Robert, but later testified that he believed Robert was asking him to document the day they spoke, which was not may twenty fourth. Other employees working the afternoon of the twenty fourth were unable to place Robert in the store, leaving the prosecution to argue that his alibi simply could not be confirmed. Jurors also heard testimony from a former co-worker who said Robert had once talked about killing Lori. According to the witness, he warned Robert that doing so would mean spending the rest of his life in prison. Robert allegedly responded that he would never go to jail. By the time both sides rested, the prosecution wasn't asking the jury to rely on any single piece of evidence. Instead, they asked jurors to consider the entire picture, the entomology evidence, the ATM photographs, the human hairs, the cat hairs, Robert's actions after Lori disappeared, his failed alibi, his own statements. Standing alone, each piece invited questions. Together, prosecutors argued, they pointed to one conclusion. After deliberating, the jury found Robert Aukar guilty of first degree murder and kidnapping. The trial judge sentenced him to death. On appeal, however, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court concluded there wasn't sufficient evidence to support the aggravating circumstance of torture. Robert's convictions for murder and kidnapping were upheld, but his death sentence was vacated. He was later resentenced to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. The photograph showed how Lori was taken. The flies helped determine when she died. But the cat hairs did something neither of those could. Without them, investigators may have known she was gone. They may have known when she died. But proving where her body had been hidden became far more difficult because the cat hairs put Lori inside the car. For a young woman who dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, it's hard not to posit that. All she ever wanted was to care for animals. In the end, it was the animals that brought her justice.org. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, help is available 24 hours a day through the National Domestic Violence Hotline. Call 1-800-799-SAFE. That's 1-800-799-7233. Or text start S T A R T to 88788. Or you can visit www.thehotline.org. That's www.thehotline.org to chat online with an advocate. Did you know that globally about 60% of all female homicide victims are killed by intimate partners or family members? In the U.S. alone, the number is 55%. By comparison, about 11% of male homicide victims are killed by intimate partners or family members. It's a tragic reality. Please make the call if you need help. I will put the information I just gave you in the show notes. Assistance is a call away. There are people who want to help. And that's Lori's story, my friends. What could her life have been? As always, thank you for being here. Like I said at the beginning of the episode, I want to hear your stories of the worst things your pets have ever found or brought home. You've heard mine. Please tell me Ayn isn't alone in her grossness. Don't forget, if you want to support the show, please leave a rating and a review. It's so helpful. You can also buy me a cup of coffee or a pup cup for Ayn. I'll leave the links for all the things in the show notes. That includes our Instagram, TikTok, email, and the Buy Me a Coffee. And most importantly, the domestic violence hotline and stocking website I noted before. We greatly appreciate all of your support. We cannot do this without you. Have a wonderful week and we'll see you next Monday. Until then, I'm Grab Rish.