Hello, campers, grab your marshmallows and gather around the true crime campfire.

We're your camp counselors. I'm Katie. And I'm Whitney.

And we're here to tell you a true story that is way stranger than fiction.

We're roasting murderers and marshmallows around the true crime campfire.

It's hardly a revelation that physical attraction can cloud judgment. It's one of the oldest

traps in human nature, that spark of chemistry that overrides caution, turning common sense into

background noise. For most people, the fallout is little more than a red face or a broken heart, but every so often,

that same impulse leads someone much further into danger. Because behind the charm, the warmth,

and the allure, there are those who hide something far darker, a heart devoid of empathy,

and intentions that are anything but loving.

When desire blinds you to the truth, the price can be more than heartbreak. It can be fatal.

This is Sleeping with the Enemy, the murder of Bill McLaughlin. So,

So, campers, for this one, we're in the wealthy coastal city of Newport Beach, California.

Thursday, December 15, 1994.

A little after 9 p.m., all seemed peaceful in Balboa Cove's, a waterside, gated community

of multi-million dollar homes. Bill McLaughlin was supposed to be home alone. His live-in girlfriend,

Nanette, was out at a soccer game with her two young children, and Bill's 24-year-old son,

Kevin, usually went to his AA meetings

on Thursday nights. But for some reason, Kevin skipped the meeting this time. He and his dad had dinner,

then Kevin went up to his room to listen to some mega-death on his walkman, while Bill did

some paperwork at the dining room table. Suddenly, Kevin heard a series of loud, popping sounds from downstairs.

Gunshots, six in all, divided into three quick two-shot bursts. Their golden retriever,

...