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- [00:03]
Nikki Wasolishen
Hi, my name is Nikki, and I'm the daughter of a murdered woman. Welcome to Poppy Killed Mommy. Before we get started, I need to warn you. This podcast contains discussion of domestic violence, homicide, and other potentially distressing topics. The individual mentioned is presumed innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. Listener discretion is advised. Poppy killed Mommy. Those were the first words my little sister said to me after the Sedona Police Department put me in the backseat of a squad car with her minutes after our mother's death. Those words have followed me, haunted me, and shaped me into the woman I am today. This podcast has honestly been the biggest challenge I've ever taken on. It's been completely overwhelming. I've pushed myself far outside my comfort zone to bring you the story of my mother, Stephanie Marie Wasolishen, who like to be called Stacy. Hers is a case like countless others across America, because in the US Domestic violence claims thousands of lives each year. At the core of domestic violence is power and control, and leaving an abusive relationship is one of the most dangerous times for a woman. The Bureau of Justice Statistics says that, and I've learned it firsthand. In 1993, my mother made the decision to leave, but she never got a chance to pack a bag and go. I grew up with the knowledge that her death was ruled a homicide, that it was domestic violence. But for 30 years, I wondered why no one was ever charged, why nothing ever happened, why no one stood up for my mom when it mattered most. As the years turned into decades, my hope faded. But 28 years after her death, I started investigating myself. I started asking questions, and I discovered what an epidemic domestic violence is in our nation. Here's just some of what I've learned. Domestic violence accounts for 15% of all violent crime. 41% of women have experienced some form of domestic violence every day in the US Three women are murdered by a current or former intimate partner. A homicide is 500 times more likely to occur if there's a gun in the home. 75% of women murdered by their partners are killed as they are leaving or after they leave. Almost one third of female homicide victims are killed by an intimate partner. These statistics are not just numbers to me, they are the backdrop of my mother's death, the weight I carried into adulthood, and the reason I'm telling you this story now. I'm here to spread awareness about my mother's case and about how common this kind of violence is in everyday American life. I want answers. I want closure for myself, for my family, but most importantly, for my mother, Stacy in this podcast, I'm going to take you through my mother's cold case step by step. I'll show you what happened that night in July of 1993. Everything I remember as a child and everything I've discovered as an adult. I'm going to show you the evidence that exists and let you decide whether there was enough to bring charges or at least present my mother's case before a grand jury of our peers. Before I tell you about the worst night of my life, I want to tell you about my mother, Stacy, and some of the parts of her life I've learned through family and friends while making this podcast. In many ways, I've come to know her better in death than I did in life. My mother was born a twin, Stephen and Stephanie wasolishin. Born in Chicago on June 1, 1961, baby Stephen died nine months later from measles. Because the police refused to transport him to the hospital, fearing contagion, they told my grandparents to call a taxi instead. Because of the delay, he didn't make it. His death was such a tragedy that it made the local papers and it sparked a deep distress of police in my family, which ironically has followed us into the next generation. After Steven's death, the family packed up and moved to Phoenix, Arizona, where Stacy would grow up in a big Russian family. Grandma B had seven kids in total, and the youngest, Wendy, was close in age to my mom. I like to think Wendy was the twin my mom got back when my mom was a teenager. Her father, Harry, died of a heart attack. I never heard my mom talk about this period, but from what Wendy told me, it was devastating for the youngest girls. Grandma B, who had never worked outside the home, was suddenly alone and she quickly remarried a man named Bruce, whom I only knew as the balloon guy. Bruce was not a nice man, and from what I've been told, he was abusive to my mother in ways I'm still trying to piece together. There's a rumor that my mother was impregnated by him as a teenager and sent to Chicago to either have a baby or have an abortion. Some say the baby was placed for adoption. Others say there never was a baby. I may never know the full truth.
- [04:38]
Wendy
Bruce, he was a creeper. He was a creeper. He was a little too touchy feely, in my opinion. And from stories I heard from my friend, he had a problem keeping his hands to himself. I believe my friend had another child prior to Nikki.
- [04:53]
Nikki Wasolishen
Eventually, Grandma B divorced Bruce and remarried Reginald Evans, who I grew up calling Grandpa Miles. Life Improved with him around. My mom got her first job, her first car. She started living her life way back.
- [05:06]
Wendy
When in the mid-70s, I met Stacy wasolishin in grade school through a mutual friend. Tracy Stacey lived in a cul de sac on Windrows growing up, she always had a boyfriend. Oh, the boys would line up for Stacy growing up, and I'm sorry, I don't remember any of the names, but she always had more than one. Ask to go to the dance, it seems like, and. And it was pretty cool. As teenagers going into high school, Stacy had a gremlin. Saved money from her first job. She didn't know how to drive it. We hid it in my apartment complex for a few months in Barcelona. Apartments, which we had to hide it from Tracy's grandma and her aunt. Tracy's dad was a Phoenix cop, so we couldn't let Grandma see that I was driving Stacy's car. So it was a real, real big secret that I had to hide amidst. What was it, like, 78, 76. I can't remember the gremlin in our apartment complex driving us around, picking us up at school, running around on our lunch hours. Stacy loved the Hallmark Channel and, you know, as young girls, we learned to read a lot, so we were able to escape through reading. Reading is a whole nother world.
- [06:20]
Nikki Wasolishen
In 1980 or 1981, Stacy met my dad, Craig, through her brother Michael. My parents had a relationship for several years, and it ended when my mother met Russell Peterson. While working at the Sheraton Crescent Hotel.
- [06:32]
Craig
She met this guy. He was a cook at a motel, great big motel on Dunlap and the freeway. But he was doing and saying the right things at the time. And she took off with him.
- [06:51]
Nikki Wasolishen
Russell was a chef, and he swept my mom off her feet. He was everything my dad wasn't. And my mom fell hard. I was about three or four at the time. And I remember my dad had a really hard time letting my mom go. Several times he laid in wait outside her apartment, waiting for Russell to emerge from a walk of shame so he could beat him up out of jealousy.
- [07:11]
Craig
I beat him up one time and scared the hell out of him another couple times because I was jealous, you know, I wanted her back because she was more than just a girlfriend. She was like a buddy. So I'm sure he had a bit of a thing against me, and that pissed him off even probably more than anything.
- [07:38]
Nikki Wasolishen
My mom never called the cops on him, and Russell never reported these incidents either. But you can imagine this is where the jealousy of each Other all begins. Eventually, Russell and my mom settled into a relationship and in 1989, they had my little sister. We all moved together into a small apartment in Phoenix, and for a moment, it felt like a real family. Then, in 1990 or 1991, Russell was offered a job as an executive chef at a restaurant in Sedona, and my mom was offered the pastry chef position. For a child, it was magical. The red rocks, the open trails, the freedom to walk to school and play outside. For me, it was the first time I had my own room. But for my mom, it became a place of isolation. Russell was gone, constantly working long hours. My mom was alone, away from family and friends, and I had no idea how unhappy she really was. A couple of years passed, and then came the summer of 1993. I remember that day, July 8th, so clearly. My sister and I were playing in the garden, running through the sunflowers that were taller than us. My mom loved a garden, growing the biggest sunflowers and pumpkins. It was one of those beautiful Sedona evenings, the kind you never forget. My mom came home from work at 5:30pm and spent the evening on the phone. She talked to my Aunt Wendy about how lonely and financially strange she felt. Then she called my dad at 8:06pm and they spoke for 107 minutes. It was the kind of phone call that would set off a chain of events that would eventually end with her death.
- [09:05]
Craig
I talked to her for about an hour, maybe over an hour, about this, that and the other. Hey, how you doing? At that time. Why? I didn't have a girlfriend or anything. And then she got into she's coming back. It sounded pretty good to me. I said, sure she wanted to come back. She just was sick of him. And she told me some pretty weird stuff about how the boyfriend she had now was wet in the bed and he had to sleep on the couch and he was extra weird and she was having some kind of little affair.
- [09:36]
Nikki Wasolishen
After that call with my father, my Aunt Wendy called her back. And according to the case file, my mom was happy during this second conversation. By 10:30, my mom was off the phone. The lights were low, the TV was on, and a candle was lit above it. She was relaxing, having a couple drinks. Around 11, it was time for me to go to bed. My little sister was already asleep in her room down the hall. I came up behind my mom, gave her a hug around her neck, kissed her on the cheek, and said good night. She asked if I'd done my chores and I lied like kids do. I walked away without looking back. That was the last time I ever saw my mother alive. Around 2am I was woken by a flashlight in my face. The Sedona police were telling me to get up, get dressed, and that my mom and her boyfriend had got into a fight and she was at a friend's house. I did what they told me and I followed the officer out of my room, through the kitchen and the dining nook, into the living room, where I saw Russell Peterson rocking back and forth, talking fast. His hands were red. An officer tried to block my view, but I saw it. What I can only assume now as an adult was my mom's blood all over his hands. I was led outside into the warm Sedona night, the flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the garage door that was my bedroom. The officer opened the back door of the squad car, and there, my little sister, clutching a stuffy, looked at me with wide eyes and she said over and over, poppy killed mommy.
- [10:58]
911 Operator
911, what's your emergency? She's hurt. She's hurt very bad. I need help. Okay. What's wrong with her? She's been shot. She was shot? Yes. Who shot her? We were. I don't know. You don't know who shot her? I might have. She might have shot herself.
- [11:24]
Nikki Wasolishen
Next week, I'm going to take you deeper into that night. We'll go through the timeline, the evidence, the 911 call, and the questions I still have after all these years. You will hear directly from those who were there, and we will begin to piece together the puzzle of what really happened to my mother. Stacy. If you or someone you know is in a domestic violence situation, please reach out for help. You can call the National Domestic violence hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE 1-800-799-7233. Thank you for listening to this episode of Poppy Killed Mommy. My podcast is dedicated to telling a true story from my family's perspective. The case remains open and ongoing. Justice is still being sought. If you or anyone you know has information on my mother's case, you're encouraged to contact the Sedona Police Department at 928-282-3100. And I need to remind you that the person mentioned in these episodes is innocent until proven guilty. Please subscribe. Please share and follow along as we search for answers and fight for justice for Stacey Wassolichen. Come back next Wednesday and I'll continue this quest until there is no more story to tell or no more breath in my body. Thank you for listening.