The show you're about to listen to may contain themes of violence, occult activities, strong language, and other sensitive material.

With an emphasis on cult's murder and other adult matters, listener discretion is advised.

On cult leader, I strive for telling stories in a truthful matter, though press, media, and other resources cannot always be verified.

Sources can be found in the show notes. Hello and welcome back to cold leader.

I'm your cult leader, Spencer Henry, and this week

has been a cold one. We're coming fresh off an ice storm. It's been absolutely taxing, to say the

least. Here in Nashville, I am all bundled up. Got the dogs in here. They're all bundled up.

We actually just got to our house right now.

I came to check on it and make sure that none of the pipes burst.

Nothing was going on at the house.

And luckily, I was alerted by a neighbor.

When I got here, power has been on for about 30 minutes.

And so I took a nice hot shower, made myself a little espresso, cracked open a cold Diet Coke, and I'm sitting here recording the episode before I go get our stuff from the hotel.

But today's story is actually very

Nashville-centric. This is a case that I have truly never heard anybody talk about before.

Never seen any inklings of it online. And trust me, I looked. The other night, I dove head

first into the newspaper archives, just

scrolling and scrolling and scrolling through late 1970s clippings. And at first, I thought there

wasn't a ton there, but by the time I surfaced, I was like, okay, I need to talk about this case.

This is a story about country stardom gone wrong, baby. Not in a bad

record deal way, not in a tour bus drama way, and definitely not in a campy Nashville plotline kind

of way. Raina James, she couldn't handle this. Okay, not even her. Because why? This is

...