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. Nobody likes to be embarrassed. More often than not, people are kind of weird in one way or another,

have some secret history or fascination they'd hate to have dragged out into the light of day.

It's normal. What's less normal is just how far some people will go to avoid their embarrassing

secrets coming out,

even to the point of murder. This is Walking in My Shoes, the murder of Christine Fitzhue.

So, campers, for this one, were in the leafy, well-to-do city of Palo Alto, California.

Friday, May 5, 2000.

Gaylon Mason and Carol Perino were looking forward to a good time.

The roommates were both teachers, so they generally had to wait for the weekend to have fun, and they were getting ready for a lot of it this weekend. It was Galen's birthday,

and they were going all in. The party was going to be casino-themed. They'd booked a craps table,

a roulette wheel, the works. They'd only be playing for joke store money, but the party was going

to be lit. Lots of teachers letting their hair down

and saying what they really thought about the kids at their school, you know, and their parents.

Once everybody's about five beers deep, each other, too. You know teachers can party. You

teachers listen, you know. At 1.30, their friend Ken Fitzhue arrived to pick up Galen and Carol in his Chevy Suburban

so they could go pick up all the casino stuff. Ken was a mixed bag, always helpful and reliable,

but he was one of those guys who just couldn't help offering unsolicited advice, especially to women,

and most especially, to young women like Galen and Carol.

As he pulled out of the driveway, Ken told them he wanted to check on his wife Christine at their

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