Stoveleg Media, Igniting Conversation.

Welcome to Trichrime to go.

What can I get for you?

Ooh, I thought this was a bank drive-through, actually.

I'm sorry, and I tried to...

No, I didn't send that, did I? No, no, no. Send that back. Send it back. Pull up to the second window, and we'll see you next crime. Welcome to True Crime to Go. I am John. Still a little raspy here with Jamie. How you doing, man? I'm just sitting here thinking about sending things through a bank drive-through, through those tubes.

Why is that technology not used in other places?

I mean, we could transport people if the system was big enough.

Right.

And, I mean, you could do some food like that in a drive. Yeah. I don't know. Yeah. Like, mail should come through that system directly to our house. That was available when I was like, that seems high tech now. It's like, I can put this in this tube and it's good. My bank still uses that. Yeah, it's still around.

And I don't know that it has, I bet it's the same as it was when we were kids.

But we have a story today about somebody who used that for evil.

So maybe that's why we don't use it as much.

Why don't you get us rolling?

December the 3rd, 2025 in a quiet corner of southeastern Ohio, one of those routine, forgettable moments turned into something that was anything but ordinary.

That's when a bank employee opened one of those canisters expecting to find a check or a

cash or like cash or paperwork.

Instead, they found a small baggie containing what appeared to be crystal meth.

Meth and a drive-thru.

Because my mom went through the bank drive-thru again.

Good Lord.

What is she doing?

...