People seemed to have formed teams, given that I keep seeing “Team Savvy” pop up. Logic dictates that there must also be a “Team Lucy,” though I don’t see evidence of it.
Given the flurry of media attention, everyone in Plumpton is definitely listening to the stupid thing.
I look down at Brewster, wishing I’d come up with an excuse to avoid the whole trip. I should have pointed out to Grandma that my presence at her birthday will likely ruin the whole thing. I’m the relative that you tell everyone about at parties, when you’re comparing fucked-up families. I make for a good story. You don’t invite me to the party.
But my grandmother never asks me for anything, and I haven’t seen her since I left Plumpton nearly five years ago. She’s never been on a plane, and she’s sure as shit not starting now, to use her words. She’s also expressed concern, more than once, about being force-fed kale if she ever visits California.
Texans hate California. It’s one of the reasons I made it my home.
Plus, my cousins really are assholes. Grandma is right—she can’t have a party with just the assholes.
If I’m going to go, I might as well go armed with knowledge. I open my podcast app and find Listen for the Lie.
I put on the first episode as I pack.
Listen for the Lie Podcast with Ben Owens
EPISODE ONE—“THE SWEETEST GIRL YOU EVER MET”
I arrive in Austin on a Tuesday, and honestly, I’m disappointed by the lack of cowboy hats.
It’s my first time in Texas, and I had visions of streets lined with nothing but barbecue joints and stores that sold boots and whatever else you need to ride a horse. Saddles? I don’t know. I know nothing about horses. I’ve never even done that touristy L.A. thing up in the hills where you can ride a horse to a Mexican restaurant, load up on margaritas, and then ride back. Always seemed like a bad idea to me.
The Austin airport is extremely Austin. I can tell this immediately, even though it’s my first time in the city. There are signs advertising that it’s the live music capital of the world, and there’s a band playing in one of the food courts, in case you doubted this. There are decorative guitars in baggage claim. There isn’t a single Starbucks or McDonald’s in the whole airport, because you know that saying? Keep Austin Weird? The second part of that saying, the part no one remembers, is support local businesses. There are only local businesses in the Austin airport.
I consider eating barbecue before I leave, but eating dinner at an airport after arriving seems sad. So, I jump in my rental car and head for Plumpton.
And this is where Texas is no longer as expected. It’s very green. I guess I thought it was a desert. And just to really prove that I’m an idiot, it starts raining so hard that I have to pull over onto the shoulder for several minutes because I can’t see the road. It’s raining like the apocalypse is nigh, and I start to wonder whether it’s a sign that this case was a poor choice.
I’m going to be honest with you guys. While I was sitting in that car, watching the apocalypse rain, I seriously considered going back to the airport and flying straight back home.
And honestly, I was still thinking about that barbecue.
When the rain finally lets up, I soldier on, hungry and nervous. About two hours later, I arrive in Plumpton, Texas.
[country music]
Plumpton is a quaint, charming town in the Texas Hill Country. It’s home to about fifteen thousand people, a number that’s growing every year. It’s a tourist town, due to its close proximity to several Hill Country wineries, but it’s also become a popular spot for young couples looking to escape the big cities. The public school system is one of the best in Texas.
The downtown area is bustling with tourists when I arrive, but when I take a stroll around the block, several locals recognize me. One man even yells that he’s looking forward to the podcast. My reputation precedes me.
The town is mostly local businesses, but a few chains have made their way to Plumpton as the town has grown over the past ten years. The first Starbucks opened here a couple of years ago, which at least five people complain to me about within my first two days in town.
But Plumpton’s main claim to fame is Savannah Harper, to the chagrin of nearly everyone who lives here. Most people in this town don’t want any part of the big-city life—they’ve either lived here for generations, like Lucy Chase’s family, or they moved here specifically to get away from the city, like Savannah Harper’s family. They don’t like being known for a grisly murder.