Transcript
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[Music]
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On an ordinary August afternoon in 2003, pizza delivery guy named Brian Wells walked into a
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bank with a cane, a lollipop, and a bomb strapped around his neck. By the end of the day he was dead.
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The FBI was chasing clues across Pennsylvania and a frozen body was about to pop out of someone's
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basement. The story has, at all, a scavenger hunt with deadly stakes. A woman whose
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boyfriends keep mysteriously dropping dead and a mastermind, or maybe upon at the center of it all.
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It's one of the most bizarre twisted true crime cases you've never heard of. And trust me,
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by the time we're done, you'll be questioning every detail. But before we get into that story,
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if you like your true crime brief and bingeable, you found the right podcast. I give you at least
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two episodes per week, so hit that follow button now and welcome to 10 Minute Murder.
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Brian Douglas Wells was, by all accounts, the human equivalent of a reliable clock.
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46 years old, a pizza delivery man with a decade-long tenure at the same pizza rhea.
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And a guy who didn't just show up, he always showed up. He'd never called in sick. He was late exactly
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once, and that was because one of his cats died. A valid excuse, really, because those cats are
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pretty much his whole world. He lived alone in a small apartment with three of them. Sticking to a
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routine so predictable, you could set your watch by it. Each day, he'd wake up, grab breakfast at a
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local cafe, read the newspaper, and head to work. Then repeat, day after day, same breakfast,
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same paper, same pizza joint. It wasn't flashy, but it was Brian's life. Simple, uncomplicated.
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Until it wasn't. August 28, 2003 began like any other day for Brian Wells. He got up, went to work,
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and then made a stop at the bank. He walked in with a cane and a white envelope in hand.
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When his turn came, he slid the envelope across the counter to the teller and stood there,
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calm, and waiting. The teller read the note, looked up at Brian, and noticed him gesturing toward
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something under his shirt collar. Whatever it was, it convinced her not to argue. Following the
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instructions in the notes, she emptied her till, handing over everything she had. It wasn't the $250,000
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Brian was asking for. It was just $8,000, but Brian didn't complain. He nodded, smiled,
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took a lollipop from the counter, and walked out the door as if it were just another transaction.
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It was only after Brian drove off that the teller informed everyone that she had just been robbed,
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but this wasn't your average robbery. The cane, Brian carried, was actually a shotgun,
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disguised to look harmless, and under his collar was something far more alarming. A bomb,
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strapped tightly around his neck. The teller had seen it herself and knew that resisting was not
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an option. The $8,000 wasn't even close to the amount Brian demanded in the note, but he left,
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without making a scene as if the job was done. Of course, if this were a typical bank robbery,
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that might have been the end of it, but nothing about this case was normal. This was only the beginning.
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It took police two hours to find, Brian Wells, but when they did, things went from strange to
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downright baffling. Brian didn't deny robbing the bank. Instead, he showed them a bomb strapped
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tightly around his neck and calmly explained that he was being forced to do it. According to Brian,
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he'd been sent on a delivery to an address on Peach Tree Street earlier that day, where three men
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ambushed him at gunpoint. They strapped the bomb to his neck, and they handed him a series of
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instructions and gave him the worst to do list ever created. The rules, simple, followed the trail
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of clues exactly, collect pieces of the combination to the bomb's lock, and eventually, if everything went
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perfectly, removed the device and live. If Brian straight from the plan, boom, took too long, boom,
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called for help, entered the wrong code, or looked at the thing sideways, boom. The letters
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led him all over town, on what can only be described as a determined scavenger hunt.
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Each stop, either giving him another piece of the combination or further instructions. One of those
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stops, naturally, was the bank. But by the time the police found him sitting on the side of the road,
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the treasure hunt had hit a dead end. Brian was calm, eerily so. But even the most patient man would
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have his limits. Eventually, he broke the silence to ask the police a very reasonable question,
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were they planning to get the bomb off of him or just stand around swapping theories.
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The police assured him the bomb squad was in root, and it was. Just not fast enough. Almost as
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soon as the words left their mouths, the device started beeping. Seconds later, it detonated, leaving
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a gruesome scene and Brian dead. What was left in the aftermath was chaos. While one team of
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investigators stayed behind to process the scene, a job no one, inved, another team picked up the letters
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and continued the hunt, retracing Brian's steps. They followed the clues one by one, hoping to
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piece together the rest of the combination or at the very least find answers. Instead, the trail
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fizzled out. The deeper they dug, the clearer it became. Brian was never supposed to survive.
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The instructions seemed designed to buy just enough time for the bomb to do its job.
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As for that address, Brian had been sent to earlier. It wasn't an address at all, just the TV
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transmission tower location. No clues there, no suspects, no nothing. And just like that, the case
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went cold. Brian Wells was left as the victim of a robbery, kidnapping, and murder so bizarre,
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it sounded more like a movie script than real life. But for the police, there were no credits rolling,
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just more questions and no one to answer them. About a month after Brian Wells' death,
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the police received a phone call that cracked open the case in the strangest way possible.
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On the other end of the line was William Rothstein, a high school shop teacher with the guilty conscience,
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and apparently no concepts of subtlety. Rothstein calmly informed the authorities that he had been
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involved in a murder. Specifically, he had helped cover up the death of a man named James Roden.
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And where is James now? In Rothstein's freezer. That's right, Rothstein had stored rodents
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remains in his basement freezer, and the guilt had been eating him alive. So much so, in fact,
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that he'd written a suicide note. That note, however, ended up being a strange twist in its own right.
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As it opened with a very bold disclaimer, this has nothing to do with the Wells case.
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Naturally, this scream to the investigators, this absolutely has everything to do with the Wells case.
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The note expressed Rothstein's remorse over James Roden's death, but was oddly insistent
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that he felt no such guilt about what happened to Brian Wells. Strange coincidence, right?
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Then there was the matter of Rothstein's address, Peach Street. The same location where Brian had
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allegedly been ambushed and the bomb strapped around his neck. Suddenly, investigators found
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themselves with two bodies, one freezer and a rapidly multiplying number of questions. The most
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pressing, of course, was the connection between Rothstein, the body in the basement, and Brian Wells.
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Rothstein was quick to explain. He insisted that he had not killed Roden. His only crime, he claimed,
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was agreeing to help conceal the body. A request from a woman named Marjorie Deel Armstrong,
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who was she? According to Rothstein, Marjorie was Roden's murderer, and as investigators would
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soon discover, she had a backstory as wild and messy as the case itself. Marjorie Deel Armstrong
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wasn't just William Rothstein's ex-fiance. She was the kind of ex you don't want to stay in touch
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with unless you enjoy chaos. And chaos was Marjorie's specialty. Her track record included a long
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history of mental illness, hoarding tendencies that bordered on legendary, and a curious pattern of
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men in her life dying under mysterious circumstances. She once shot and killed a boyfriend successfully
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arguing self-defense. That set the tone for her relationships going forward. Her husband and several
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other men she'd been involved with didn't fare much better, including James Roden, her most recent
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partner. But when James ended up dead, Marjorie didn't just shrug it off and move on. She turned to her
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old pal William and asked if he could store James's body in the freezer. Like leftovers, you weren't
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quite ready to deal with yet. William agreed, because apparently his boundaries were as fragile as
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his moral compass. But when Marjorie allegedly suggested that he go one step further and grind up
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James's remains in an ice crusher, even William had to draw the line. Instead of diving head
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first into that nightmare scenario, he called the police. Thus opening the door to a whole lot of
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questions about James's death and whether Marjorie had something to do with Brian Wells also.
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The connection wasn't immediately obvious. William was a mechanic and an engineer,
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making him the kind of person who could design a bomb like the one strapped to Brian. But his motive?
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That was a harder sell. Why risk it off for a bank heist when hiding one body had already pushed
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him to the brink of a nervous breakdown. As it turned out, Marjorie was the missing link once again.
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She needed cash, not just for the usual bills, but to hire a hitman. Her father, a wealthy man with
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a rapidly shrinking bank account, was burning through what Marjorie considered her inheritance.
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She couldn't afford to wait for the nature to take its course, so she enlisted Kenneth Barnes to
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take care of the problem. Kenneth agreed but made it clear that he needed the money upfront.
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And that, as they say, is the rub. With no money in hand, Marjorie had to get creative.
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Investigators believe Kenneth, who knew both Brian Wells and Marjorie introduced the two,
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whether Brian agreed to help or was dragged into it unwillingly, remains a mystery. But soon enough,
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he was wearing a neck bomb, allegedly built by William and heading into a bank. Witnesses later
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place Brian at both Marjorie's and William's houses in the weeks leading up to the robbery.
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The theory goes that James Rodin, Marjorie's boyfriend, got wind of the plot and realized it was
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doomed from the start. Maybe he even tried to warn Brian. If so, that sealed his fate. To protect
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her plan, and of course her inheritance, Marjorie allegedly killed James and stashed his body in
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William's freezer for safe keeping. The heist fell apart when Brian was stopped by the police,
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but the co-conspirators were temporarily off the hook thanks to Brian's death. That fragile
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safety net unraveled when William cracked and spilled the secrets to investigators. Unfortunately,
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he didn't live long enough to see the case resolved, dying of cancer before the full story could come
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to light. That left Marjorie and Kenneth, the last two players standing. Kenneth took a plea deal,
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testifying against Marjorie, and both were convicted. William Rothstein and James Rodin both deceased
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were post-misly implicated, which left just one name hanging in the air. Brian Wells was Brian
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upon manipulated into this tragic end or was he a willing participant who underestimated the people
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he'd teamed up with? The jury's still out. Authorities suspect Brian played some role, but with a key
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witness either dead or pointing fingers at each other, the truth may never fully be known.
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[Music]
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That is 10 Minute Murder for Today. Brief and Bingeable True Crime. I'm Joe, I'm the host, and hey,
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if you're into unraveling mysteries that do not end with someone tragically meeting their demise,
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yeah, I know it's shocking, I do those too. Check out a brand new podcast that I've just created.
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It's called 10 Minute Mystery. It's like the sibling to this podcast, but with more conspiracy theories,
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more aliens, more missing people, more eyebrow-raising twists. I think strange disappearances,
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cryptic messages, and things that go bump in the night. It's the same brief and bingeable vibe,
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just a little less murdery. You'll love it, I think, so give it a listen. If you're already here,
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mind us, we'll keep the mystery train going. So check out 10 Minute Mystery, wherever you're listening
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to this podcast right now, you can find it. In the best case scenario for me, you're subscribed to
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and listened to both of the podcasts. Same overall kind of vibe, just completely different stories.
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And again, it's called 10 Minute Mystery. All right, that's going to do it. Thank you so much for
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for listening to this podcast, 10 Minute Murder.
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Bye.
