Papi Killed Mommy

*]:pointer-events-auto R6Vx5W_threadScrollVars scroll-mb-[calc(var(--scroll-root-safe-area-inset-bottom,0px)+var(--thread-response-height))] scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id= "request-6a53f690-8ed0-83e8-9b28-4bf64d8e092b-4" data-turn-id-container= "request-6a53f690-8ed0-83e8-9b28-4bf64d8e092b-4" data-testid= "conversation-turn-96" data-turn="assistant"> Three Weeks That Changed Everything
I have never wanted to write show notes like these.
I have spent the last year asking people to listen to Papi Killed Mommy because I need them to hear my mother's story. I've asked you to share it. I've asked you to rate it. I've asked you to help me keep Stacy's name alive.
But today, for the first time, I'm asking you to help me.
The last three weeks have brought me to my knees.
Two days before my 44th birthday, I increased my GLP-1 dose—and within hours, my body basically declared war on me. What followed was roughly ten days of relentless nausea and vomiting, dehydration, two emergency visits from an RN to my home, more than $500 in medical expenses, and the discovery of something I barely knew existed: cannabinoid hyperemesis syndrome, or CHS.
After more than 20 years of regular cannabis use, I stopped immediately.
Then came the sweating. The chills. The brain fog. The sleeplessness. The stomach problems. The emotional roller coaster. I was trying to recover from being incredibly sick while my body was simultaneously adjusting to life without something that had been part of it for more than two decades.
And somehow, I made it through.
I'm eating again.
I'm working again.
I'm functioning again.
I'm cannabis-free.
I'm still here.
But getting physically better didn't undo what being sick did to my life.
I'm a Pre-K teacher. I make $16.50 an hour. I love my job more than I can explain, but I live paycheck to paycheck. Despite having two podcasts, viral videos, hundreds of thousands of downloads and a growing social-media following, podcasting does not pay my bills. Papi Killed Mommy generally brings in only about $60–$100 a month, and I don't monetize Nanny Nikki's Imagination Station at all.
And today, I learned that because of a school policy, I'm losing an entire week's pay.
Forty-five hours.
I want to explain this carefully because I don't want anyone attacking my employer on my behalf. I want people to understand how this happened.
Our school has a policy that in order to be paid for a school break, employees must work the scheduled workday immediately before the break and the scheduled workday immediately after it.
I understand that there is a policy.
What is so painful to me is why I wasn't there.
I wasn't taking an extra vacation day. I wasn't extending my break. I wasn't simply deciding I didn't feel like going to work.
I was sick.
I had a doctor's note for the Monday I missed.
And then there was a roughly two-hour Meet the Teacher event while I was still sick. I personally called my boss that day and explained what was happening and that I wasn't well enough to attend.
At no point during that conversation did I understand that missing that event could mean losing an entire week's paycheck.
Had I known, I would have dragged myself there.
I don't care how nauseated I was. I don't care what I looked like. I would have sat in a corner with a bottle of water for two hours if I had understood that the alternative was losing $742.50.
Because I literally cannot afford to lose $742.50.
And this is important to me, too: this is my third year in the classroom.
I'm not a brand-new teacher walking into Meet the Teacher to introduce myself to a community that has never met me. My returning families know me. My school knows me. They know how seriously I take my classroom, how much I love my students, and how much this job means to me.
I've also been sick around a school break before and was still paid, which is another reason I didn't understand that this time would be different.
When I asked about the missing pay, the explanation I received was that it's policy, I don't have PTO, and essentially, "don't be mad at me."
Again, I'm not asking anyone to attack my employer. Please don't.
Maybe this policy is being applied exactly as it is written.
But I would be lying if I said this doesn't hurt.
It's incredibly difficult to reconcile having a legitimate medical illness, having a doctor's note, personally communicating with my boss about what was happening, and then finding out afterward that the consequence is 45 hours of lost income.
And if I'm being completely vulnerable, after everything I've been through physically, it's hard not to feel like I'm being penalized for getting sick.
I can't say that is anyone's intention. I don't know that.
I can only tell you how it feels from where I'm sitting.
I've worked there for years. I love my classroom. I love my students. I returned for the first day of school while I was still recovering because being there matters to me.
And the answer I'm left with is:
It's policy.
Maybe that's part of what makes this hurt so much.
Because during these awful weeks, complete strangers on the internet have checked on me. Parents have checked on me. Listeners have checked on me. People who have never met me have sent messages, offered help, and shown me an amount of compassion I wasn't prepared for.
And it's incredibly sad to feel that the institution I actually work for doesn't seem able to offer that same kind of flexibility or compassion in this particular situation.
Whatever anyone thinks about the policy, the financial reality doesn't change.
At $16.50 an hour, 45 hours is $742.50.
My rent is $1,000.
It's already late.
I have around $355 in my bank account.
My next paycheck may only be around $500.
And that's before groceries.
Before gas.
Before health insurance.
Before pet food.
Before all of the ordinary expenses that don't disappear because you got sick.
I'm 44 years old.
I work.
I pay my bills.
I take care of my responsibilities.
And I have never been this broke before.
There is something incredibly humbling—and frankly terrifying—about realizing that you can work full-time, do everything you can to stay afloat, and still be one illness away from not being able to make rent.
That's where I am tonight.
And God, I hate asking this.
I hate it.
I'd much rather sit behind this microphone and ask you to help my mother.
I'd rather tell you about a new development in her case.
I'd rather celebrate the fact that Papi Killed Mommy is charting again.
I'd rather talk about literally anything other than how much money is sitting in my bank account.
But pride isn't going to pay my rent.
So I started a GoFundMe.
If $5 doesn't hurt you, $5 helps me.
If $10 doesn't hurt you, $10 helps me.
And if donating would put you in a difficult financial position, please don't.
Share this episode.
Share the fundraiser.
That helps me, too.
❤️ If you can help me get through this: Help a Pre-K Teacher Through a Financial Crisis — GoFundMe
But I don't want this episode to simply be me asking you for money.
I made it because three weeks ago I knew almost nothing about CHS. I didn't fully appreciate what a GLP-1 dose increase could do to my body.
And if somebody hears my experience and recognizes themselves in it—if some long-term cannabis user who's been standing under scorching-hot showers trying desperately to stop unexplained nausea suddenly hears this and thinks, "Holy shit. That's me."—then something good came from this nightmare.
Please listen to your body.
Ask questions.
Talk to your medical provider.
Don't assume that because you've tolerated something before, your body will always respond the same way.
And somehow, there's another little piece of magic happening at the exact same time.
Nanny Nikki's Imagination Station is charting on Apple too.
My little children's podcast—the one I don't monetize, the one that started because I'm a Pre-K teacher who loves telling stories to kids—is climbing the charts at the very same time as Papi Killed Mommy.
I don't even know how to explain what that feels like.
These two podcasts could not be more different. One was born from the most painful thing that has ever happened to my family. The other was born from the joy I find every day in my classroom. One exists because I'm still fighting for my mother. The other exists because a bunch of little kids reminded me how magical storytelling can be.
And somehow, right now, they're both being heard.
In the middle of one of the hardest few weeks I've had in years, that's something I'm incredibly proud of.
🚂✨ If you have little ones—or you're just curious about the completely different side of my storytelling world—you can climb aboard here:
Listen to Nanny Nikki's Imagination Station on Apple Podcasts
It's whimsical. It's educational. It's completely free. And unlike Papi Killed Mommy, I promise nobody gets murdered. ❤️
While I've been sick in bed, you brought my mother's story roaring back to life.
Thousands of new people have discovered Papi Killed Mommy. You've shared Stacy's story. You've rated and reviewed the podcast. And somehow this tiny independent show—made by one woman sitting behind a microphone trying desperately to make the world care about her mom—has climbed Apple's Top True Crime chart for the third time.
And being sick didn't stop me from fighting for her.
From bed, I've been doing another massive media push.
I've reached out to The Arizona Republic. Phoenix New Times. Channels 3, 5, 10, 12 and 15.
Channel 12 told me an investigative reporter would be reaching out.
And Justin Lum from Channel 10, who covered my mother's case in 2022, emailed me about what has happened since his original reporting and how the story might move forward.
I wrote him back.
I'm not stopping.
So this episode contains two very different kinds of hope.
Hope that sharing what happened to my body might help somebody else.
And hope that all these new eyes on Stacy's case might finally put her story in front of the person who can make a difference.
Tonight, though, I need some of that hope for myself.
I'm alive.
I'm sober.
I'm back at work.
I'm still fighting for my mom.
But financially?
I'm scared.
I've never been this broke before.
I've never wanted to beg my audience for money.
And admitting that I cannot fix this by myself is incredibly difficult.
But somewhere along the way, this stopped being just an audience.
You became my community.
And maybe that's one good thing that has come out of everything I've been through:
For the first time in this incredibly long fight, I don't feel like I'm doing everything alone anymore.
So if you've listened to my mother's story, shared one of my videos, left a review, donated $5, sent me an encouraging message, or simply cared about what happens to this stranger behind a microphone:
Thank you.
Thank you for helping me keep a roof over my head.
Thank you for helping me get through this.
Thank you for helping Papi Killed Mommy climb the charts again.
Thank you for helping me keep Stacy's name alive.
And thank you for reminding me that after everything these last three weeks have thrown at me...
I'm still here.
And I'm still fucking fighting.




 
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Thirty-three years ago, on the night our mother was murdered, my little sister was only three years old.
As police officers placed us in the back of a patrol car, she kept repeating the same heartbreaking words:
"Papi killed Mommy."
For the past year, you've followed me as I've fought to keep our mother's story alive. Together, we've uncovered evidence, shared long-forgotten interviews, spoken with investigators, met with the county attorney, attended CrimeCon, and watched a small podcast grow into something I never imagined possible. Thousands of people around the world now know my mother's name and the story of what happened on July 9, 1993.
But there has always been one voice missing.
My sister's.
It's been six years since we last spoke.
The last phone call between us was about our mother's case, and I never answered. Looking back, I can't even remember why I was angry. I only remember the regret that followed, because six years is a long time to wonder what might have happened if I had simply picked up the phone.
Recently, something changed.
Just days before the thirty-third anniversary of our mother's death, I learned that my sister had reached out to someone close to me. Then, someone from her life reached out to me. For the first time in years, I realized that maybe the silence between us wasn't the end of the story.
While researching this podcast, I also discovered something I'd never heard before: a recorded conversation between my sister and Investigator Laura Leon from 2023. Listening to that phone call changed me. For years, I told myself that maybe she didn't care. Instead, I heard anger. Hurt. Frustration. I heard someone who sounded a lot like me.
Earlier this year, my Aunt Wendy and I sat down with the county attorney and asked the question we've been asking for more than three decades:
What will it take?
The answer was painfully simple.
A confession.
Or a confrontation call.
That's where this case stands today.
This episode isn't an investigation.
It isn't a timeline.
It isn't about evidence.
It's a letter.
One sister reaching across six years of silence to ask another if she's ready to take one final step together in pursuit of justice for the woman who gave us both life.
I don't know if she'll ever hear these words.
Maybe someone will send them to her.
Maybe she'll find this episode years from now.
Or maybe she'll never press play.
But I couldn't spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I never asked.
So...
This is me asking.
If you've been with me since Episode One, thank you. You've carried my mother's story farther than I ever could have imagined, and you've reminded me that hope can survive even after thirty-three years.
And if, somehow, my sister is listening...
My number hasn't changed.
I'm still here.
And I'll never stop being your sister.

Episode 18: Live with Crime Weekly
Three weeks ago, I was exhausted.
After years of telling the same story, asking the same questions, and fighting the same battles, I was ready to walk away. I was frustrated, discouraged, and wondering whether anyone was really listening.
Then CrimeCon happened.
In this episode, I take you behind the scenes of my journey to Las Vegas for CrimeCon 2026, where I had the opportunity to join Crime Weekly Live alongside Stephanie Harlowe and Derek Levasseur to share my mother's story with a room full of people willing to listen.
From forgetting my merchandise bag thirty minutes into the drive, to getting lost inside Caesars Palace, to navigating panic attacks, chronic pain, and overwhelming emotions, this episode is an honest look at what happened before, during, and after one of the most important weekends of my life.
For the first time, I found myself standing on a stage in front of hundreds of people asking them to do what my family has been asking for more than three decades:
Listen.
Listen to the evidence.
Listen to the interviews.
Listen to the facts.
And decide for yourself whether the death of my mother deserves another look.
I also share my experience reconnecting with Megan Tomlinson, whose journey has become a powerful reminder that answers can still come, even after tragedy. Through her advocacy organization, A Silver Lining of Hope, Megan has transformed unimaginable loss into a mission of support, awareness, and hope for other families navigating homicide investigations and the search for justice.
Her story reminded me of something I desperately needed to remember:
Sometimes people do get answers.
Sometimes people do get justice.
Sometimes the fight is worth it.
Since returning home from CrimeCon, the momentum has continued.
In this episode I discuss:
• My appearance on Crime Weekly Live
• The overwhelming support from attendees and listeners
• New outreach efforts to public officials and government agencies
• Additional complaints and requests for assistance
• My interview with VT
• New opportunities with journalists, creators, and investigators
• Why CrimeCon completely changed my outlook on this fight
• The response we received after sending the latest media coverage to Russell Peterson
CrimeCon did not give me answers.
What it gave me was something I wasn't expecting.
Hope.
Watch Crime Weekly Live
Crime Weekly Live featuring the homicide of Stacy Wasilishin:
https://youtu.be/o8Kls5j0Uyk
A Silver Lining of Hope
Learn more about Megan Tomlinson's advocacy organization:
https://www.silverliningofhope.com/
A Silver Lining of Hope provides support, resources, advocacy, and hope for families affected by homicide, missing persons cases, and violent crime while helping keep victims' stories alive and in the public eye.
Call To Action
For more than 33 years, my family has fought for answers in the homicide of my mother, Stacy Wasilishin.
Stacy Wasilishin was killed in Sedona, Arizona, on July 9, 1993. The Medical Examiner ruled her death a homicide. More than three decades later, no one has been charged, and the case remains unresolved.
Over the years, our family has contacted local law enforcement, prosecutors, the Arizona Attorney General, the FBI, the U.S. Department of Justice, and numerous public officials seeking answers.
Most recently, the Arizona Ombudsman-Citizens' Aide responded to our request for assistance and advised that it does not have jurisdiction over municipal police departments such as the Sedona Police Department. The Ombudsman directed concerns regarding this matter to Sedona city leadership, including the City Manager and City Council.
We are now asking supporters to respectfully request transparency, accountability, oversight, and answers regarding this unresolved homicide investigation.
If you choose to contact any of these agencies or officials, please remain respectful and professional.
This is NOT a request for harassment, threats, personal attacks, or misconduct complaints.
It IS a request for transparency, accountability, and answers for a family that has spent more than 33 years seeking justice.
Questions supporters may wish to ask include:
• Why does a homicide ruled a homicide by the Medical Examiner remain unresolved after more than 33 years?
• What oversight exists for an unsolved homicide investigation of this age?
• What resources are currently being devoted to the investigation?
• Is an independent review of the investigation warranted?
• What steps are being taken to ensure this case receives the attention it deserves?
• Why did Yavapai County Attorney Jim Landis request renewed investigation of this case in 1999, and what became of those efforts?
Contact Information
Sedona Police Department
(928) 282-3100
https://www.sedonaaz.gov/police
Sedona City Manager's Office
(928) 203-5199
mmccloud@sedonaaz.gov
Sedona City Council
https://www.sedonaaz.gov/your-government/departments/city-clerk/council-commissions-committees-boards/city-council/contact-the-entire-city-council
Yavapai County Attorney
(928) 771-3344
https://yavapaiaz.gov/County-Attorney
Arizona Department of Public Safety
(602) 223-2000
https://www.azdps.gov
Arizona POST
(602) 223-2514
https://post.az.gov
Arizona Attorney General
(602) 542-5025
https://www.azag.gov/complaints
Governor Katie Hobbs
(602) 542-4331
https://azgovernor.gov/engage/form/contact-governor-hobbs
Arizona Ombudsman-Citizens' Aide
(602) 277-7292
https://www.azoca.gov/complaint-procedure/complaint-form/
U.S. Department of Justice Civil Rights Division
(202) 514-3847
https://civilrights.justice.gov
And one final request.
For more than 33 years, I have believed that somebody out there knows something.
People talk.
Secrets are shared.
Stories are told.
Somewhere along the way, someone heard something, saw something, was told something, or knows something they have never reported.
Maybe it seemed unimportant at the time.
Maybe you assumed someone else already knew.
Maybe you've carried it for years without realizing how significant it could be.
But after more than three decades, I still believe the truth exists outside of police reports and case files.
I believe someone out there knows something.
If you are that person, or if you have information about the homicide of Stacy Wasilishin, no matter how small it may seem, I am asking you to please contact the Sedona Police Department.
I am begging you.
Thirty-three years is a long time to wait for answers.
My family deserves answers.
My mother deserves answers.
And if you know something, now is the time to come forward.
My mother's name was Stacy Wasilishin.
She was 32 years old when she was killed.
She deserves answers.
Justice delayed should not mean justice denied.
Thank you for listening.
— Nikki

It's been 36 days since the last episode of Papi Killed Mommy. Lots to fill you in on. 
In this episode, I sit down and talk openly about burnout, obsession, grief, media attention, CrimeCon Vegas, and the emotional reality of spending five years living inside my mother's homicide case every single day.
Over the last few months, my mom's case has received major media attention, including front-page local coverage, a national article from A&E, and now a brand-new feature from The Independent https://www.the-independent.com/news/world/americas/crime/cold-case-murder-stephanie-wasilishin-tiktok-b2968369.html after a journalist discovered me through the CrimeCon Facebook community. 
We talk about what that coverage means to me, why media pressure has always been the goal, and how surreal it feels preparing to walk onto a stage with Crime Weekly at CrimeCon 2026 after starting this journey alone on TikTok years ago.
But this episode also goes somewhere I never expected…
I talk honestly about hitting a wall with true crime. I don't see my self going forward with other cases. 
After years of reading police reports, autopsy reports, case files, and reliving trauma publicly online, I've started questioning whether I can continue existing solely inside this world emotionally and creatively.
And somehow… that led to the accidental launch of an entirely different podcast.
Introducing: Nanny Nikki's Imagination Station 
 https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/nanny-nikkis-imagination-station/id1896688793 — where turning the page is just the beginning.
A brand-new children's storytelling podcast inspired by my work with kids, imagination, storytelling, voices, characters, and creativity.
Episode two, Dickie Birdie Has Two Names, is an original story inspired by my tiny senior chihuahua, Dickie Birdie — and honestly, creating it may have been the happiest I've felt creatively in years.
For the first time in a long time, I created something joyful instead of painful.
In this episode we also somehow spiral into:
• kidnapped classroom hermit crabs. I'm a Crabnapper 
• why the hermit crab trade is heartbreaking. 
• senior rescue dogs
• Arizona heat
• TikTok violations
• emotional exhaustion
• media pressure
• CrimeCon prep chaos
• and whether I'm literally just waiting for a deathbed confession at this point
So basically…
a normal week in my life.
If you're coming to CrimeCon Vegas, come say hi. I'll be at my booth with merch, framed articles, giveaway signed front page articles, and Dickie Birdie riding around in his tiny red stroller.
🐾 Support Nikk's zoo of rescue animals, senior pets, and apparently now hermit crabs:
Amazon Wishlist
Thank you for continuing to keep my mom's name alive after all these years.
I'll see you at CrimeCon…
or I'll see you right back here after.

In this episode of Papi Killed Mommy, Nikki shares a major turning point in her mother Stephanie Wasilishin's case — from national media recognition… to a shift in strategy… to one of the most personal decisions she's made in 33 years.
After being told there is no legal path forward without a confession, Nikki opens up about what the last month has actually looked like behind the scenes — the frustration, the burnout, and the moment everything changed.
Because this episode marks something important:
Momentum.

🎙️ Episode Highlights
📰 A&E Delivers — National Feature Released
On April 9, 2026, A&E published a national article on Stephanie Wasilishin's case — bringing long-overdue visibility to a story that has largely gone unheard for decades.
📰 Read the article here:
https://www.aetv.com/articles/stephanie-wasilishin
This moment represents more than just coverage — it's validation, visibility, and the beginning of something bigger.

🎧 The Last 33 Days — What Changed
This episode walks through:
Being told the case cannot move forward without a confession
The emotional aftermath of that reality
Taking a step back — and what that looked like
The realization that this case needs bigger media, bigger platforms, and more pressure
Why television and national exposure are key to movement in cold cases

🎤 CrimeCon 2026 — Next Steps
With CrimeCon approaching, Nikki is preparing to take this story directly to creators, networks, and anyone willing to listen.
This is no longer just about telling the story.
It's about getting it in front of the right people.

📱 Follow Nikki in Real Time
For updates, behind-the-scenes advocacy, and ongoing developments:
👉 https://www.tiktok.com/@nicolewasilishin

✊ Sign the Petition — Justice for Stephanie Wasilishin
👉 https://www.change.org/justiceforstacy
Every signature helps increase visibility and keeps pressure on this case.

🐾 Dickie Birdie & Senior Dog + Kitty Wishlist
I'm not asking for support for myself. 
But I will ask for my animals.
They are my babies — my dogs and my cats — and right now, they're all getting older at the same time. Living in Arizona, the extreme heat makes it really hard to keep them comfortable and safe through the summer.
This wishlist includes things like cooling mats, food, and basic items to help them get through the heat — especially for dogs like Jake who struggle the most in the warmer months.
I also have my 16-year-old cat, Manny, whose kidneys are starting to go. He has a prescription for kidney care food that I have not been able to fill yet, and that's something I'm really trying to get for him as soon as possible.
If you're in a position to help at all — even something small — it truly means more than you know. And if not, just being here and listening is everything.
👉 https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/49E74TM4J5D8

📣 If You Have Information
If you have any information related to this case — no matter how small — or if you know Russell Bennett Peterson or have ever crossed paths with him, please come forward.
📧 papikilledmommy@gmail.com
Sedona Police Department:
📞 (928) 282-3100
Please only reach out if you have legitimate information that could help move this case forward.

And then… there's this.
For the first time in 33 years… Nikki is no longer waiting.
After being told that a confession is the only way forward, she made the decision to stop sitting on the sidelines — and step directly into the space she's been kept out of for decades.
A message was sent.
To Russell Bennett Peterson.
Requesting a conversation.
Face to face.
On camera.
An opportunity to speak.
To explain.
To tell the truth.
The message has been read.
There has been no response.
Yet.

This episode is not the end of anything.
It's the beginning of the next phase.
And this time… it's personal.