Mackenzie Shirilla’s Mother Told Her Rehab Is for ‘Actual Criminals’ — on a Recorded Line

**Tony Brueski** (0:00)
This is The Big Breakdown, a long look back at some of the biggest stories we're covering for you at the Hidden Killers Podcast and True Crime Today.
This is Hidden Killers With Tony Brueski. Here now, Tony Brueski.

**Tony Brueski** (0:15)
Mackenzie Shirilla is sitting in an Ohio Reformatory right now for women. She's just 21 She, if you are just catching up on the chaos of this case, convicted of killing two people, her boyfriend Dominic Russo and their friend Davion Flanagan, after she drove a Toyota Camry into a brick wall at roughly 100 miles an hour in Strongsville, Ohio. A judge found it deliberate, premeditated. She's serving 15 years to life and on a recorded phone call from prison. Her biggest concern is getting her iPad. You can hear the call. It was obtained by reporters and published. Mackenzie is talking to her mother, Natalie.
She's asking her to call the facility to push for the iPad. Can you call and ask?

**Tony Brueski** (1:02)
Please, please, please.

**Tony Brueski** (1:05)
Her mother tells her she can't. Last time she called about something, the prison staff told her it would be considered special treatment. And Mackenzie's response on a recorded line in a state correctional facility where she's serving time for two murders is, what the F, man? Not grief, not reflection, not even basic awareness that she's being recorded, just irritation that the world isn't delivering what she wants on her schedule. That moment, that tiny, petty, completely unself-aware moment is the whole story of how Mackenzie Shirilla got here. Not the crash, not the 100 miles an hour, the fact that nobody in her entire life at any point ever let her feel the consequence she couldn't complain her way out of. That's what this episode is about. Not whether she did it. A court answered that this is about the 17 years before the crash that built the person capable of it and the two people who were supposed to be the guardrails.
As we go through this, your thoughts in that comment section there on Substack and YouTube. And be sure to press subscribe wherever you're listening or watching us. July 31st of 2022, Strongville, Ohio, 530 in the morning, Mackenzie, 17 at the time, is driving home from a friend's house with Dominic, 20 in Davion, is 19 The car, a 2018 Toyota Camry, makes a controlled turn into Elmita Drive, then accelerates nearly half a mile at close to 100 miles an hour. No braking. The car slams into a brick wall of a commercial building. Dominic and Davion are pronounced dead at the scene. Mackenzie is extracted from the wreckage and airlifted to a hospital. The black box data showed the accelerator was pressed to full capacity for an extended period. Forensic examination found no mechanical failure. Brakes, steering tires all functioning. The judge who heard the case called her hell on wheels and found that she'd crashed the car intentionally. In August of 23, she was convicted of 12 felony counts, including four counts of murder. She was sentenced to two concurrent terms at 15 years to life. That's the case, OK? We're not going to re-litigate the case here. It's established. It's been upheld on appeal. The Ohio Supreme Court declined to even hear it. What hasn't been established, what nobody really has sat with is a question underneath. How does a 17-year-old get to the point where this is even in the range of possible decisions? And the answer is not just, she's a monster, you know? I get it, I fit, yeah, but monsters don't build themselves. After the Netflix documentary The Crash put this case back in the national spotlight, a series of prison phone calls between Mackenzie and her parents were obtained by multiple outlets. And if you want to understand how Mackenzie Shirilla was built, those calls are the blueprint.
One call Mackenzie and her mother are discussing prison life, the programs available, the educational opportunities and mental health resources. Mackenzie says she appreciates that they try to make it somewhat manageable in there. And then Natalie mentions that prison is supposed to be rehabilitative. And Mackenzie says on a recorded line, But I don't need to be rehabilitative. Like, I don't need that.
Set that down for a second. A woman convicted of two murders, a conviction upheld, saying she doesn't need rehabilitation. That's not really defiance. That's not bravado. That's a person who genuinely does not believe the thing that happened is the thing that happened. And here's the part that matters. Her mother does not push back. Natalie doesn't say, You know, Kenzie, you were convicted. We have to deal with this reality. No, no, no. No, no. Why would she do that? Why would she try to hold her daughter accountable now that she's finally locked in a cage? Because the world has held her accountable because they failed her so badly. She tells her daughter, rehabilitation is for actual criminals. Not you, she says. People who have been convicted of actual crimes.