Papi Killed Mommy
Hey weirdos — I’m Nikki, daughter of Stephanie Marie Wasilishin. If you found this show through Morbid, welcome. Thank you for giving space in your day to my mom’s story and to a new podcast that’s still building its voice. Content note: This episode discusses domestic violence and homicide. The man discussed is presumed innocent unless proven guilty in a court of law. What this episode is about This is the chapter where I stop waiting for the system and start pushing it. After the Red Rock News coverage and my first email from Sedona Police (Nov 2020), I filed a public-records...
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Send us a text In this special bonus episode of Papi Killed Mommy, I share my very first CrimeCon experience — a three-day whirlwind in Denver that was emotional, overwhelming, and unforgettable. The journey started on the road: 900 miles, 14 hours, my best friend Melissa by my side, and my emotional support pup, Dickie Birdie, curled up in the backseat. Between reroutes, pouring rain, thick fog, and deer threatening to dart across the road, the drive was intense. We kept each other laughing ...
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Send us a text In this episode of Papi Killed Mommy, for the first time, I read three articles about my mom’s death: the original piece from 1993, and two follow-ups nearly three decades later in July 2020 by the Sedona Red Rock News. These articles shaped how the public saw my mom’s case. The 1993 article framed my mom’s murder as a “domestic fight,” erasing her identity and repeating Russell Peterson’s account uncritically through police statements. There was no context about domestic ...
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Send us a text 📍 Hi, I’m Nikki — the daughter of a murdered woman. Welcome back. This week, I take you back to 1993, when my mom’s case stalled—but my Aunt Wendy never stopped fighting. Together with Grandma Bea, they held on to hope, and now I carry their legacy as the third generation of Wasilishin women demanding justice for my mother Stacy Wasilishin. This cycle must stop— You’ll hear the story of my sister’s unsettling shift from “Papi killed Mommy” to “Mommy killed herself,”
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Send us a text 📍 Bonus Episode: Laurie Swift Remembers Stacy I’m Nikki—daughter of a murdered woman. This bonus episode features longtime friend Swifty sharing candid memories of my mom, Stacy, that bring her to life beyond the headlines. Recorded back in May, these clips are raw, unscripted, and mostly unreleased. Through Swifty's voice you’ll see a young Stacy who thrifted, cleaned obsessively, and lived through music like Aerosmith and Foghat. We’re halfway through this journey—six episod..
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Send us a text 📍 Hi, my name is Nikki and I’m the daughter of a murdered woman. Welcome to a special bonus episode of Papi Killed Mommy. ⚠️ Before we begin, a quick trigger warning: this podcast contains discussions of domestic violence, homicide, and other potentially distressing topics. Listener discretion is advised. One of the questions I get asked most often is: What about your dad? What does he remember from that night? What does he think really happened? How does he feel all these year...
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Send us a text It was three weeks before my 11th birthday, when my mother, Stacy Wasilishin, was killed. For weeks now, I’ve taken you back to July of 1993 — to the night she died, the hours after, and the painful days that followed. In this episode, we reach a turning point: the final interview Russell Peterson ever gave to police about my mother’s death. On September 3, 1993, detectives sat down with Russell for over 30 minutes. This was his fourth version of events, and by then his story h...
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Send us a text Sunday, July 11, 1993. The day I learned my mother was dead. In this episode, I take you into the moment that shattered my childhood. That morning, my foster family drove me and my little sister to the Sedona Police Department. Inside a room filled with silver folding chairs and scattered toys, I sat frozen — until the only familiar face in the room, my mother’s boyfriend Russell Peterson, broke the news. “Your mom is gone.” He was the one who told me. Not a police officer. Not...
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Send us a text In the previous episodes, I walked you through my mother’s final day, the chaotic hours after her death, and Russell Peterson’s first interview. But the story didn’t stop there. In this episode of Papi Killed Mommy, I take you deeper into July 10, 1993—the day after my mother’s murder—and into Russell’s second police interview, where his story starts to unravel. This was the interview where Russell’s narrative began to shift. In his own words, you’ll hear him pivot from blam
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Send us a text Episode 3: In the Hours After In this episode, I take you into the hours immediately following my mother’s murder—hours I’ve spent my entire life trying to piece together. From the moment I was pulled from my bed and placed in a squad car beside my three-year-old sister, to the moment Russell Peterson, my mother’s boyfriend and the father of my sister, was inexplicably placed in the same squad car with us, covered in blood. Today, Ill read you my sister’s interview from just th...
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Episode 3: In the Hours After
In this episode, I take you into the hours immediately following my mother’s murder—hours I’ve spent my entire life trying to piece together. From the moment I was pulled from my bed and placed in a squad car beside my three-year-old sister, to the moment Russell Peterson, my mother’s boyfriend and the father of my sister, was inexplicably placed in the same squad car with us, covered in blood.
Today, Ill read you my sister’s interview from just three hours after our mother’s death. You’ll hear her repeating the same heartbreaking phrase over and over: “Papi killed Mommy.” This interview is raw, painful, and real. It’s also revealing.
You’ll also hear, for the first time in full, Russell Peterson’s initial police interview. Last week, I shared snippets. This week, I’m giving you the entire thing—unedited, start to finish. His words. His version of events. I want you to hear exactly what the Sedona Police Department heard that night.
This episode was emotionally brutal to create. I want to take a moment to thank my friend Ash from F That Pod for stepping in and helping me record my sister’s interview. Though the original version didn’t make it into this episode due to my amateur editing abilities, I’m grateful to Ash for her help and support. Please check her out at F That Pod or wherever you listen to podcasts. Ash did a TWO-part series on my mom. She’s incredible. Please go listen.
If you’ve been following my mother’s story and want to help me keep telling it, I’m asking for a birthday favor this year: I’ve launched a GoFundMe to help me represent my mom at CrimeCon. Right now, I can’t afford a banner, a tablecloth, or the merchandise I need to share her story properly. Every sticker, every button, every item helps me amplify my mother’s name. If you’re able to help, please visit:
👉 https://www.gofundme.com/f/this-is-my-birthday-wish-help-me-bring-my-mothers-story-to.
🐾✈️ Traveling to CrimeCon with my best friend, Dickie Birdie, comes with some unexpected expenses — his recent vet visit alone was $827. If you’d like to help make sure he’s safe and comfy on this trip, I’ve put together a small Amazon Wishlist with his travel essentials (like a stroller, pop‑up kennel, and car seat). Every bit of support means the world. 💙
🛒 Click here to check out Dickie Birdie’s Wishlist
As a thank you, I’ll personally send you a handwritten card and a first-generation Papi Killed Mommy sticker.
If you have any information regarding the death of my mother, Stephanie Marie Wasilishin, please contact the Sedona Police Department at (928) 282-3100.
For updates, behind-the-scenes content, and more of my mom’s story, follow me on TikTok and Instagram:
@NicoleWasilishin
@NicoleWasilishin
This podcast is 100% independent. No sponsors. No production team. Just me, telling my mom’s story the only way I know how: truthfully. Every download, every share, and every comment matters more than you know. The support the show button is below 👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
Thank you for being here. I’ll keep telling this story until there’s no story left to tell… or no breath left in my body.