Murders to Music: Crime Scene to Music Scene (Streamline Events and Entertainment)
Come on a ride along with a Veteran Homicide Detective as the twists and turns of the job suddenly end his career and nearly his life; discover how something wonderful is born out of the Darkness. Embark on the journey from helping people on their worst days, to bringing life, excitement and smiles on their best days.
Murders to Music: Crime Scene to Music Scene (Streamline Events and Entertainment)
What Christmas Means to Me....Merry Christmas 2025!
The lights are bright, the coffee goes cold, and the living room falls quiet. That’s where our story opens: in the stillness after the wrapping paper and the photos, when the big question shows up—what is Christmas actually for? We walk that question through memory, loss, and music, then bring it home to a manger that changed the world without a spotlight.
I share a personal tribute to Officer John Watson—mentor, friend, and the partner who covered my shift on Christmas night and never returned. Survivor’s guilt carved deep tracks, and for years I carried the heavy what-ifs. Therapy and faith helped me see the night differently: God was there, and love did not leave us alone. That reframing doesn’t erase the grief, but it gives it meaning. We honor John’s legacy and the costly heroism of those who serve, while naming the peace that can follow when we let grace rewrite the story.
From there, we turn down the volume on modern Christmas—the lists, the countdowns, the pressure to engineer joy—and trace the line back to a barn and a borrowed bed. No rooms left in town, no applause, only a young mother, a steady father, and a child whose arrival still answers the ache for belonging. Presence over presents becomes more than a phrase; it’s a way to hold the day. We wrap it all in music, performing a Christmas song that retells the night with simple words and steady hope, letting melody carry truth where sermons can’t. If your house feels too quiet, or your heart too full, this is a place to set it down and breathe.
Listen to remember, to feel known, and to step into a gentler rhythm where love is enough and small is holy. If the episode moves you, share it with someone who could use a moment of peace, tap follow to stay with us through the season, and leave a review so others can find this story too.
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Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to a Murders to Music Podcast. My name is Aaron, I'm your host, and thank you guys so much for coming back for another episode. It is Christmas Day 2025 when this episode drops. Can you believe, like as we think about it, can you believe that it's already Christmas time again? It seems like it was just this time last month that it was Christmas. You know, I think the older we get, the faster these years just fly by. And the older we get, the more we realize that we need to seize the opportunities and the moments in our life. And I absolutely love Christmas time. I'll tell you that, guys. Christmas time from about Thanksgiving through the New Year's, that is by far my favorite time of year. It's about being with family and friends and what the reason of the season is really all about. And that to me is such an amazing blessing in my world. I absolutely love it. All right. So before I get into the show tonight, I want to kind of give you a roadmap. I'm going to pay tribute to a very special man. Christmas night is always going to resonate as something very special in my world. And I'll tell you about that briefly. Then I'm going to talk a little bit about thoughts about Christmas. Then you're actually, I'm actually going to sing you a song. I'm going to sing you my favorite Christmas song. And it's going to be me and my band performing it. You'll get to hear that. And that is what's going to push you out to the end of this. So let's get started. All right, December 25th, 2003. You see, that is a day that will always resonate in ringing history for me. And here's what occurred that day. And I've got an entire podcast dedicated to this story where I go into detail and talk about it and talk about the effects that it had. And I won't go into that tonight, but I just want to pay a special tribute to John Watson. In 2003, John Watson was not only my partner as a police officer, but John Watson was and a mentor to me as I grew up in the police department in the Explorer Post. John Watson was then one of my field training officers. John Watson was there when I was eight years old and went on my first ride-along. And on December 25th, 2003, John had to cover a shift for me because I went on vacation. You see, I was a relatively new police officer, and John was an 18-year veteran who was within about 18 months of retiring. He had plans of traveling the nation on a motorcycle with his wife. And that Christmas night, he actually had to work and cover my shift. But that Christmas night wasn't just a Christmas night, it's also his wife's birthday. So John goes to work for me, and during that shift, he gets involved in a call for service that originated in another jurisdiction. And long story short, there was a suspicious circumstance where a man and a woman went into somebody's house, ate Christmas dinner, and then left, and nobody knew who they were. So they send the police to go try to find these people and make sure everybody's okay because their behavior was odd. And when John found that gentleman, and I use the term lightly gentleman, a fight ensued, and that person took John's gun from him and executed him. And he killed him at 17 degrees below zero in a small town in Alaska while John was working an extra shift to cover me while I was on vacation. Now it took a long time for me to get over that survivor's guilt. And I thought, well, if it wasn't for me, John wouldn't have been there. And if I would have been there, then maybe the results would have been different. Or maybe the circumstances would have changed and John could still be there with his family and his kids and all of that. And then it wasn't until I got through therapy where I could open up this can of worms and I realized that God was there that night. And John was exactly where he was supposed to be. Like it or not, I was where I was supposed to be. And Jesus was right there with John that night when he died. And that is something that for me will always resonate, ring true, and has just recently in the last year, year and a half, helped bring me peace in this conversation. I want to throw this out to John. John, me rest in peace. In memory of you, thank you so much for all of your mentorship. And if you guys want to hear the full story, it's called The Moose, the Mentor in the Morning. Please look it up and listen to that episode. You know, Christmas always seems to start so loud for me. You know, it starts with lists, with cards, with wish lists and notifications that it's only two days left. Or does it even start when there's nine Fridays left or nine paydays left until Christmas? You know, it smells like cardboard boxes and tape and it sounds like Christmas music on repeat. It looks like a tree buried under things that we swore would make everybody happy. And as kids, we believed in all the magic of it all. We knew that Santa knew our names and that presents appeared overnight, but the joy felt measurable, stacked under a tree wrapped in shiny paper. As adults, not much changes. Except now we're Santa. We stay up late assembling things that we don't fully understand. We swipe cards instead of writing letters. We chase that feeling that we remembered having once as a kid, and we're hoping that we can recreate it for the people we love now. And for a moment, maybe just a moment, Christmas morning at works. There's laughter, there are pictures, there's coffee going cold on the counter while the wrapping paper piles up on the floor. But then there's that quiet that follows. You know that quiet. It's not an empty quiet, it's just a still one. The kind where the music fades, the house settles, and you realize that the moments have passed faster than you expected. All the anticipation, all the weight, all the worry is over in just a fraction of a minute. And somewhere in that quiet, a question tends to surface. Is this all there is to Christmas? Not in a cynical way. More like a wondering one. Because even after all the gifts are opened and after all the traditions are honored, there's still something in us, something deep inside that wants more nostalgia. And that's usually where the story turns. Now, not sharply, not dramatically, just gently. You see, long before the Christmas decorations, long before the stockings, and before Santa, there was a family, and not a perfect one, not a powerful one, just a tired couple that was traveling. Traveling when they didn't want to, carrying more uncertainty than supplies. There was no guest list, there was no warm welcome, there was no spotlight. You see, it was just a young mother, a faithful father, and a child born in the most uncelebrated place imaginable. There was no wrapping paper, no applause, and yet this is where Christmas actually begins. Not with an abundance, but with humility, not with excess, but with presence, not presence. God didn't enter the world with noise, celebration, fanfare. He arrived quietly in a stable into a family. And that's the part that sometimes we forget in all of this celebration. You see, Christmas isn't about what shows up under the tree, it's about who showed up in the world. A reminder that love doesn't need perfection, that hope can be born in uncomfortable places, and that God shows closeness over grandeur. And maybe that's still why the story matters. Because beneath all the lights in the lists, we're still longing for that same things that family long for that night. Peace, belonging, and reassurance that we are not alone in this world. So maybe this Christmas, maybe after all the gifts are open and after the house grows quiet, we remember not just the season, but the reason. Not just the tradition, but the truth. That Christmas isn't about what we give or get. It's about what was given to us. And now, even now, that gift still changes our hearts quietly, deeply, and where we are right now. This holiday season, I had the opportunity to go out and play music for many, many people. And one of the things that we do is I don't hide from the reason of the season, I don't hide from this story that I've just told you. I bring that present and forward in our music. And there's a song that I sing and it is a beautiful Christmas song. And I just want you to hear the lyrics of this song. There's snow on the ground and no rooms in town and nowhere for spending the night, except an old shed with hay for a bed and Mary she says that's all right. Now Joseph don't like it because his marriage's with child, and what if this is the night she gives birth? But when he has nothing, a man comes to see just how much a little is worth. Now the trip's been a hard one. They cross the courtyard to a barn at the back of the inn. They lay down to sleep among cattle and sheep and wait for this night to begin. Now she can see he's worried with love in her eyes. She reaches out and touches his face. She says a barn is a mansion if it's wall shelter love, and for some reason God has chosen this place. The baby's arrival fills up the night, and the light from a beautiful star shines upon the darkness so gloriously bright, and shines down on the world near and far. And directly below it is if on a string, the shelter such humble design, given warmth and protection to the child Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, King of mankind. Family and friends, Merry Christmas. I hope you guys have a wonderful Christmas day. Hope you have a wonderful 2026. I love you all. That is a murders to music podcast.
SPEAKER_01:No rooms in town, nowhere for spending the night. Except an old shell with hay for a bed. Mary she says that's alright. Joseph don't like it. What if this is the night she gives birth? But when he has nothing, a man comes to see just how much a little is worth. She reaches out and touches his face. She says it barn is a mansion. If it's wall shelter love. So gloriously bright, shines down on the world near and far. And directly below it, as if on a string, a shelter of such humble design, giving warmth and protection to the child Jesus Christ.
