There are two kinds of prisons.

One is made of concrete and steel.

Gar towers, razor wire, a schedule that tells you when to eat, sleep, and stand.

We follow the rules and keep our heads down because we are terrified of these places.

But there's another prison, and it's harder to escape.

It has no bars or guns.

It looks like a ranch house in the suburbs.

A steady job with a 401k,

a marriage that died years ago.

So you pass each other in the hallway like ghost.

This is the invisible cage, the prison of being good.

Toby Doer is the warden of her own cage.

It's 2006. She's 48, a mother, a grandmother, the kind of woman you trust with your keys, and one day Toby decides to break out.

She drives a van to the gate of a prison. And one day, Toby decides to break out.

She drives a van to the gate of a prison.

She smiles at the guard.

She waves.

And in the back, inside a cardboard box,

she breaks a killer out of prison,

just so she can finally feel free.

I'm Harfick Ian, and this is Killer Stories. To understand why a woman like Toby Doer would throw her life away,

you have to look closely at the life she's living.

...