The Unsolved Disappearance of Andrew Gosden

When people disappear without a trace of their own accord, the aftermath causes friends and family to question everything, and even blame themselves for the circumstances. They replay old memories and conversations in their head wondering if something they said or did was the reason why their loved one decided to vanish. Those questions begin to seep into every facet of their lives as the answers may forever be lingering over them as a dark cloud without any sunlight in sight. The story of Andrew Gosden’s unsolved disappearance is an example of such pain and heartache.

Andrew Gosden 1

Andrew Gosden was born on July 10, 1993, to his parents, Kevin and Glenys Gosden, who both worked as speech therapists in Balby — a suburb of Doncaster, South Yorkshire, England. He grew up with his older sister by two years, Charlotte Gosden, and the two were both very intelligent. As a teenager, Andrew attended McAuley Catholic High School with a 100% attendance record and had a knack for mathematics. He was in the top 5% in the government’s Young, Gifted, and Talented Programme for high-achieving students and was predicted to score straight A’s on the GSCE’s.

The future was bright for Andrew, but he was still an ordinary teenager who didn’t mind isolating himself in his bedroom to play video games and read science fiction and fantasy books such as Lord of the Rings and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. He also enjoyed collecting rocks and gems and listening to heavy metal music. If you walked into his bedroom you would immediately be met with posters of his favorite bands plastered all over the walls, such as Slipknot, Marylin Manson, Muse, and Funeral for a Friend. As for hobbies away from home, he loved visiting museums and exhibitions to enrich his knowledge and gain a better understanding of the history of a time that once was.

On Friday, September 14, 2007, the normal lives of the Gosden family changed drastically in ways that were never even fathomable beforehand. Initially, the day began as typical as could be. It was only eight days into the new school term when 14-year-old Andrew woke up for school, put on his McAuley Catholic High uniform, and told his family bye as he walked out the door of his Littlemoor Lane home and to the school bus, as he so often did.

However, he seemingly made an unexpected detour with unclear motives. Rather than attending school, he chose to stay behind and wait for his sister and parents to leave home. After their departure, he returned home, changed his clothes into a black Slipknot t-shirt and black jeans, grabbed his wallet, keys, PSP without the charger, and shoulder bag and walked out the door to the nearest ATM and withdrew €200.00 from his bank account. Thereafter, he made his way to Doncaster train station and purchased a one-way ticket at 9:30 a.m. to Kings Cross, London, roughly two hours away. The ticket seller advised him he could purchase a return ticket for 50p but he declined the offer for unbeknownst reasons. At 11:20 a.m. CCTV footage captured Andrew arriving at his destination without a problem, but his whereabouts afterward is unknown and he has never been seen since.

Andrew Gosden CCTV 1

Andrew’s family hadn’t any inkling that he had skipped school for the day until later that evening. When Andrew got home from school he would typically go to his bedroom or the converted cellar to play video games, so it wasn’t a surprise when Kevin and Glenys didn’t see their son after they arrived home from work. It wasn’t until 7:00 p.m. when Glenys called out for Andrew and Charlotte to eat dinner when the discovery was made. When Andrew never emerged from the bedroom or cellar, Glenys went looking for him, but could only find his school blazer and tie draped neatly over the back of his chair and his shirt and trousers in the washing machine.

The family immediately knew something was wrong because Andrew was considered a “home bird” and always mentioned where he was going when he decided to leave home. Phone calls were made to friends in the area but nobody had seen him. They proceeded to call his school and was alarmed by the news that he never attended any classes for the day. It was learned that the school tried making contact with his parents when he didn’t arrive at his morning class, but they dialed the wrong phone number so nobody was alerted to the situation.

Unaware if Andrew left on his own free will or was abducted on his way to school, they believed if he did go anywhere on his own accord it would be in London, particularly in Chislehurst and Sidcup where he often visited his distant relatives during the holidays. Praying for a miracle, they contacted his aunts and grandparents in the area but it turned out to be fruitless, so their last option was to notify the South Yorkshire Police, where an immediate search began.

Over the course of several days, hardly any answers were unraveled. The Gosden family made sure to keep their son’s disappearance in the public eye by distributing missing person flyers throughout town and the Doncaster train station. As a result, eyewitnesses started coming forward sharing alleged sightings.

One credible testimony came from an adult woman who claimed to see Andrew at a Pizza Hut on Oxford Street in Convent Garden on the day he vanished. She reported the information to the police but it was later discovered they waited until six weeks to follow up on the report. Another witness was the individual who sold Andrew his ticket to Kings Cross. He told the family he was by himself and purchased a one-way ticket, but refused to buy a return ticket at a cheap price.

Now that a solid lead was uncovered, the family began feeling much more hopeful, but the police neglected to browse the CCTV footage until 27-days later, where the video captured Andrew getting off the train station. The amount of time that passed by before looking through the footage angered the family because most of the film had been deleted by the time it was viewed. Kevin Gosden went on to criticize the South Yorkshire Police’s ineptitude by saying, “The handling of the investigation was too slow, too chaotic, and disorganized.”

Andrew Gosden Mom and Dad

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and months into a year, the impact of Andrew’s disappearance began to be unbearable for Kevin as a lack of answers were churning in. He quit his job as a speech therapist because he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. Depression started to overwhelm him to the point he attempted to commit suicide, and he subsequently spent fifteen weeks in a psychiatric hospital. Glenys, on the other hand, found working and keeping busy helped her maintain a level of normalcy as she continued to pursue answers to Andrew’s whereabouts.

In October 2008, the charity “Missing People” helped the Gosden family in many facets — even going as far as having Andrew’s photograph printed on milk cartons that were sold by the Iceland supermarket, hoping the 100,000 cartons sold a day would generate more awareness and leads.

One month later in November 2008, an unidentified male visited the Leominster Police Station located in Herefordshire in the late evening hours using the outside intercom claiming to have information on Andrew Gosden. By the time an officer came to the front of the station the man had disappeared and never resurfaced.

Andrew Gosden Agre Progression 18-19 Years OldThe following year on Andrew’s 16th birthday, Kevin and Glenys released a statement to the press urging the public to keep searching. On the anniversary of his disappearance that September, computer-generated age-progression sketches created by experts for a television program centered on missing people were released.

In October 2009, one of Andrew’s favorite bands, Muse, was hosting a concert at the Sheffield Arena. Kevin had taken Andrew and Charlotte to see them play on their last tour in 2006 and it was a fond memory for them all. Hoping to bring out positive memories, family and friends stood outside passing out over 10,000 leaflets about Andrew, hoping to continue spreading public awareness; and Muse themselves got involved by offering free tickets to Andrew if he decided to come forward. Despite an admirable effort by combined resources, nothing pivotal came from the new push for information and the case turned cold.

By May 2011, hope began to dwindle due to a lack of progress. Kevin started believing Andrew passed away and hired a private company to perform a sonar scan of the River Thames — hoping answers would be unearthed even if they weren’t the ones he desired. After a thorough sweep had been conducted a body was discovered but it did not belong to Andrew. The latest results provided mixed emotions; it was a sigh of relief knowing that Andrew hadn’t been in the river, but on the other hand, it was painful because a resolution wasn’t able to be provided. Kevin described life during the four-years of Andrew being gone as a “never-ending limbo of just thinking, ‘Why did you go?’.”

On what would have been Andrew’s 18th birthday, Barry Ford, a businessman from Kent, offered up his sports car to anyone that would provide information that would lead to answers to Andrew’s whereabouts. Though nothing was able to be gleaned from this opportunity, the rallying and support from a friend gave Kevin gratitude and strength to keep carrying on the good fight.

In 2014, the television program “Panorama” on BBC One, an investigative journalism television show that focuses on current affairs, featured Andrew’s parents, hoping new leads would be phoned in after the broadcast. They made it aware that Andrew would be 23-years-old by then and prayed he would watch the program and reach out, but they also told the media, “I think it’s unlikely he will make contact but we still have hope.”

Two years later, Andrew’s case was still remaining strong in the public. A charity event for families of missing children was held on May 25, 2016, and many celebrity musicians collaborated together to unveil a new [single] song to further help fund researching for those who are missing. The song was titled “I Hope,” which was inspired by a poem Kevin had written about his son in 2013.

The following year in 2017 the South Yorkshire Police launched a fresh appeal urging anyone to come forward even if they believe the information they have may seem insignificant. On the anniversary of Andrew’s disappearance, Kevin held a vigil at the Doncaster train station to honor his son’s memory by remaining silent for ten hours — one hour for each year his son has been missing.

It’s now 2018 and Andrew’s disappearance is still as relevant as it was in 2007. Online web sleuths have made it their mission to seek answers and to keep the hope alive, and forums and blogs can be found to show such dedication.

Andrew Gosden

As for the Gosden family, they remain diligent. The journey has been rough, however, especially for Kevin. He recalls memories of being energetic and enthusiastic to take his children on adventures — taking them out on the speedboat; swimming under the summer night stars; teaching them how to snorkel, and even going paragliding. Now, his energy has since depleted and is plagued by post-traumatic stress, anxiety, depression, and still battling suicidal thoughts. He presses onward though, with the support of his wife Glenys and daughter Charlotte, who is trying to be the best family they can while keeping Andrew a part of it in order to keep his spirit alive. They continue to deposit money into his bank account, and they haven’t remodeled his bedroom or changed the locks on the doors, hoping one day he will open the door to come back home.

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The Unsolved Murder of Gary Grant Jr.

Children are the epitome of innocence. As parents, we strive to see the smile on their faces and to enjoy life with a creative imagination before having to face the realities of adulthood. When horrible crimes are committed against such purity people are often left wondering how and why. There are times when those questions get answered; other times a resolution doesn’t occur. In other instances justice is in view but the lack of evidence isn’t adequate enough to provide closure.

Gary Grant JrGary Grant Jr. was born on March 8, 1978, to his parents May and Gary Grant Snr. He was the youngest of two other siblings, Michele and Dawn Grant. The family was living in a middle-class neighborhood in Atlantic City, New Jersey, where Gary Snr. worked strenuous hours as a local police detective, in a city where casino gambling had recently been legalized but was an anecdote for many illegal crimes at the forefront. When Gary Jr. was seven-years-old his parents divorced but the separation didn’t come between raising their children and being actively involved in their lives.

On the morning of Thursday, January 12, 1984, nothing was out of the ordinary. Gary Jr. and other students from Our Lady Star of the Sea were home from school because of a Parent-Teacher conference. As such, Gary was excited and told his mother that he had an appointment at 2:30 p.m. May questioned him about what he meant but he insisted that it was a secret. Though she thought it was strange, she considered it innocuous — thinking he was going to meet up with friends or had a playdate with a girl he liked who lived in the vicinity. Around noontime, Gary left his home on the 2500 block of Arctic Avenue to play with friends, and May instructed him to be home by 4:00 p.m. for dinner.

At approximately 4:00 p.m. Gary Jr. failed to arrive home. May wasn’t overly worried because she knew kids would be kids, so she allowed leeway with his absence. One hour passed by without his emergence and panic was starting to seep in, knowing this type of behavior was uncharacteristic. May put on her coat and went to the homes of two friends in the area. They both claimed they had been playing with Gary but they parted ways to go home at 4:30 p.m.

The information provided a moment of relief — hoping by the time she got back home Gary Grant Jr and Dad Gary would be there awaiting her return, but that wasn’t the outcome. May continued searching relentlessly but after another hour without any results, she called her [ex] husband, Gary Grant Snr. and informed him of the situation.

An immediate search was conducted, with alleyways, abandoned buildings, the boardwalk, and arcades being scoured but the efforts proved fruitless. By 2:00 a.m. an official investigation began. Nearly the entire police department was searching for Gary Jr. but his father wasn’t allowed to participate in the case due to regulatory guidelines. Nevertheless, those directives weren’t enough to deter him from independently going door-to-door passing out photographs of Gary Jr. and asking residents in the neighborhood if they had witnessed anything.

One witness named Robert Hughey — New Jersey’s Commissioner of Environmental Protection who owned a warehouse two blocks away from where Gary Jr. lived — stated shortly after 4:30 p.m. he was heading home and saw Gary Jr. walking near the warehouse in the direction back to his residence. He didn’t consider it strange, as children often roamed the area because a local park was nearby.

Two days later on Saturday, January 14, Hughey went to his warehouse to search the premises. It was 3:30 p.m. when he stumbled upon a ghastly scene. The deceased body of Gary Jr. was uncovered in an abandoned lot of land near the storehouse. He had been bludgeoned to death with a metal pipe lying near his body and a rug was draped over him.

Gary Grant Jr Murder Weapon

The police were immediately notified — whom many were still searching for the boy. Gary Snr. was also still pursuing answers as to his son’s whereabouts and was driving down California Avenue to his [ex] wife’s home when he saw a swarm of police vehicles and officers looking in distraught at the crime scene. He immediately knew from their body language that his seven-year-old son was found. As he approached the scene his worst nightmare came to fruition.

Detective Jim Barber and other investigators went on to interview over 500 people hoping to obtain credible witnesses and information that would help solve the atrocious Carl Masonmurder of Gary Grant Jr. Several people came forward claiming to see him with one of his friends, Carl Mason; a twelve-year-old mentally challenged kid with an IQ of 65. Mason was often bullied and was given the nickname “Boo,” because he was considered to be the neighborhood “scardey-cat.” Days prior to Gary Jr’s. murder, Carl’s older brother was arrested on robbery charges and there were rumors circulating that he was recruiting younger children to perform burglaries for him.

With the testimonies of several witnesses, the investigators went to Mason’s home where he was living with his grandmother, to follow up on the recent developments. When asked if he was with Gary Jr. on the afternoon he disappeared he denied the allegations — saying he spent time with him on Wednesday at the Texas Avenue Park. Due to conflicting reports, the police asked him and his grandmother to go to the police station for further questioning.

Mason’s grandmother obliged and took him to the police station. When they arrived, the police separated them and the two weren’t consulted on acquiring a lawyer. The detectives spent three hours interrogating Carl. According to investigative journalist Rick Murray, he provided many inconsistent reports and had even confessed to murdering Gary Jr. with a metal pipe but retracted his statement, but from the perspective of the detectives, his intimate knowledge of the crime scene could only be known if he was a member of law enforcement or the murderer.

Shortly thereafter, the detectives typed up an admission of guilt for Carl and asked for his and his grandmother’s signature. The two were lead to believe signing the papers would allow them to go home, but instead, the forms allowed the detectives to apprehend and charge Carl Mason with the murder of Gary Jr. in an official compacity.

Carl was subsequently transferred to a juvenile detention center, and on the following afternoon on January 15, he was given a polygraph test that came back inconclusive. He was given another test three days later but the results were the same. Both tests indicated that he was innocent and had no involvement with Gary Jr’s. tragic murder. One month later, the Superior Court Judge John Himmelberger dropped all charges because of an illegal interrogation and his confession was not admissible in the court of law.

Gary Snr. and many other people believed Carl Mason was the perpetrator or at the very least had more knowledge than he proclaimed. He still did his best to track down answers by contacting the Prosecutor’s Office to speak with the Major Crimes unit but never received a reply. At one point he spoke with the Attorney General’s Office questioning the lack of movement in the case, and in response, he was taken off his son’s case.

With a lack of information churning in the case eventually turned cold, but two years later a chilling discovery was made on the driver’s side back door of a police-issued vehicle that read, “Gary Grant is dead. I am living. Another will die on 1/12/86 if all goes right.” The anonymous death threat was seemingly a hoax and after a thorough investigation was conducted the police were unable to locate the mysterious writer.

Gary Grant Jr Message

Three weeks later another peculiar message was found carved into a sidewalk saying, “Gary Grant Jr. lives. I still killed him. Son of a pig officer. Payback is a M.F.” The logical assumption amongst the police was that the murder of Gary Jr. was an act of retaliation from someone who had been previously arrested by Gary Snr. After combing through their database of prior convictions nobody who had been incarcerated seemed to warrant this type of extreme reaction.

Once more, the case went stagnant and leads ran dry. Years later, Gary Grant Snr. retired from the Atlantic Police Department and relocated to Puerto Rico. His undaunted resolve for solving his son’s murder was always present, however, telling the Press of Atlantic City, “My seven-year-old son has remained on my mind every waking moment of my life.”

With his retirement, his main goal was to find closure, and in 2016 he found two unbelievable clues while browsing through evidence boxes and converting old audio tapes into digital files. He discovered an audio clipping that he never heard before made to 911 on March 8, 1986 — what would have been Gary Jr’s. tenth birthday — and in the midst of the two spinetingling messages found weeks apart.

Transcript

Dispatcher: Police and Fire.

Caller: Is it possible for me to collect a reward on my own self for the murder of Gary Grant?

Dispatcher: Is it for you to collect the reward … for yourself?

Caller: Uh-huh.

Dispatcher: If you have … yeah, if you have information. What are you saying? That … I don’t know what you mean? Like, you know who did it? Something like that you mean?

Caller: No. How’s if I did it myself and I want to collect the whole reward.

Dispatcher: If you did it?

Caller: Yeah.

Dispatcher: Suppose I hook you into the detective bureau?

Caller: Mm, no, that’s okay.

Dispatcher: (Unclear).

Caller: (Unclear). It’s not a crank call. You’re never gonna catch me.

Dispatcher: You know what?

Caller: You’re never gonna catch me.

Dispatcher: You know what? Take your time. I didn’t hear you.

End Transcript

The other audio file was from a phone call placed on June 2, 1986. The caller remained incognito and said, “Because of his father. The cops know what he looks like,” but never elaborated further. Hoping to generate new leads, Gary Grant Snr. uploaded the soundbite to Facebook to see if anyone recognized the voice. He managed to obtain the name of the suspect and discovered he knew the individual because he lived in a neighborhood that he often patrolled, yet couldn’t recall having any issues with him. Interestingly enough, the caller was arrested in 2013 for child molestation against a five-year-old and was sentenced to prison. It has never been determined if he had involvement in the murder of Gary Grant Jr.

It’s now 2018 and the murder of Gary Grant Jr. remains unsolved. Gary Snr. still believes Carl Mason was the individual responsible for taking his son’s life but remains humble enough to consider the possibility he is innocent. To keep the spotlight on his son’s life, he created a Facebook page to honor his son’s memory and offer words of encouragement to others. As he continues to pursue justice and closure, his dedication is a beacon of light for others to never give up. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

The EAR/ONS Case is Solved — I Want to Share a Heartfelt Message to Everyone

It has been an emotional week since the East Area Rapist/Original Night Stalker … wait, Joseph James DeAngelo was identified and caught. I’m still trying to process the fact that there are a name and a face to the moniker that has plagued California for over four decades. I can’t even begin to comprehend how survivors and family members are feeling right now, knowing the monster in the dark has been brought to light and there is no escape for him. There are no open windows; there are no glass sliding doors; there are no bicycles; there are only bars. With all of this happening, I want to share an honest message and confession of my own.

For the better part of two years, I became obsessed with this case. The story of it all enthralled me to the point where I absorbed every piece of information I could. When I discovered the EAR/ONS and Unresolved Mysteries subreddit, I knew it was a place where there was an active community that was equally consumed as I was.

To be honest, I was intimidated at first. There were so many knowledgeable people who knew the case backward and forward and I thought there was nothing I could do to contribute in a way that would be beneficial. Nonetheless, I proceeded to learn more and eventually expanded into sharing my thoughts, theories, opinions and creating a 12-part series on the case.

Within that timeframe, I met amazing people here and have developed friendships. I may not know your real names, but the fact that we speak regularly is a beautiful thing to me. Some of you have motivated me; gave me inspiration; pushed me to be better; made me want to be more credible and reliable; irritated me; tested my patience; and it was all for the best, because those traits I acquired seeped into my personal life and it helped me become a better person.

Over time, people considered me well-informed on the case and sought answers from me, even when I didn’t deserve that type of acknowledgment. When I was presented with that responsibility, I wanted to ignore it because I personally felt inadequate, but I finally accepted that role and strove to live up to those expectations.

Due to that level of accountability, I discovered my passion — writing (blogging) about true crime. That’s when I really started to have the genuine desire to not only discuss this case but to also bring more light to it. There were no ulterior motives; I simply wanted to spread awareness (I’m aware of how cliche that is). At one point I considered writing a book about the case, but I felt guilty for doing so. In fact, I felt rather ashamed that I made a “name for my self” here, because none of those things was my intention.

Nevertheless, some of these things were completely out of my control. I simply took things one day at a time and let life unfold as it may. Two years later, I am unbelievably thankful for each and every one of you. That’s not hyperbole. You all have changed my life in ways I never thought was possible, especially in terms of being an adult. To put it plainly, I grew up. In reality — away from the computer — those positive changes has flowed wonderfully and I became a better person; an individual that I thought was impossible to achieve. Thank you, for everything.

I now want to give an honest message about Joseph James DeAngelo Jr. himself. With him now under constraints, I can’t help but harken back to two statements he once made. First was a phone call to the police when he professed, “You’re never going to catch me you dumb fuckers.” The second is to a victim he harassed and told her, “You think you’re smart, but I’m smarter than you.”

 

Ear
Joseph James DeAngelo Jr. — The EAR/ONS/GSK

 

What a glorious day it is knowing that this heinous monster is officially apprehended and by some of the original police task force. He may have eluded capture for longer than we all hoped or even anticipated, but he eventually got caught, and his mugshot is spread across the nation. His face is revealed and he looks old; tired; and miserable. Science reigns supreme and the justice will be beautiful.

As I alluded to earlier in my post, I was plagued by this case for two years. I couldn’t look at a glass sliding door or walk by a fence without thinking of him. Every time I read about a burglary in the local newspaper, he came to mind. When I went to sleep at night, I often wondered if he was alive, dead, in prison, or in another country. I scoured over details of each crime scene trying to find a connection that would lead to his identification. A part of me almost came to admire his ability to turn into a ghost and disappear from the responsibilities of life, because so many people knew a lot about him yet also knew nothing at all.

However, answers are revealing, and one thing is made abundantly evident — he’s not unique or special. Some of the theories on him were right; some were wrong. Those that were accurate represent the fact that he is a real human being because over 40 years he almost turned into a myth — an urban legend. He wasn’t a ghost. He had a career; family and children; a means of travel; a place he called “home.” Right now, he’s only a bitter old man whose dark past is now exposed. As a result, it’s becoming clear that many things he left behind in his attacks weren’t all red herrings. Rather, they were insecurities being presented in the crimes because of his own self-hatred and brokenness as an individual.

Ultimately, he is a victim of poetic justice because he was caught at his own game — by people smarter than him. Just as he has done to countless of innocent people, he was surveilled for days. His routines and habits were learned. Then one day unbeknownst to him, he was blitzed — caught off guard and left speechless. His hands were bound behind his back and had absolutely zero control.

Now, he’s going to have to endure the same treatment he instilled in his victims. All of those lives that were dismantled because of him will get their time to speak in court without being interrupted. If he dares to speak, they get to intervene and say, “Shut up!” They get to seize control and walk around the courtroom while he sits helplessly in handcuffs. When it’s all said and done, they get to walk to freedom — opening the courtroom doors and be gone in the night, while he rots in jail for the rest of his life.

Today, life is beautiful.

The Mysterious Abduction of Angela Hammond

People, whether children or adults, go missing every single day. Sometimes, the person decides to vanish on their own accord, while other people disappear in a more sinister nature. When these incidents happen they impact people in ways that are undoubtedly life-changing, especially when those unfortunate circumstances occur in a small populated town where everyone knows one another. The lingering effects of those cases create a void in families, friends, and the entire community that never fully heals.

Angela HammondAngela Marie Hammond was born on February 9, 1971, to her loving parents, Marsha and Chris Hammond. For the first four years, the family lived in Kansas City, but they soon relocated to Clinton, Missouri, where Marsha’s parents, Lloyd and Elizabeth Young were residing.

Clinton, Missouri is a small, rural town populated by fewer than 9,000 people as of 2016. Residents make a living by hard work at factory jobs, farming, and supporting local businesses. It’s a town where people wave to each other as they walk; people meet up in the morning at the local diner to have coffee, and when high school football season starts the community gathers together on Friday nights to support their hometown team.

Clinton, Missouri

Not too long after the move to Clinton, Marsha and Chris added another addition to their family, a newborn baby boy, Loren Hammond. Sadly, over time their marriage fell apart, which resulted in Marsha moving twenty miles away to an isolated farm out in the country in Montrose, Missouri, and Chris traveling back to Olathe, Kansas, where he later remarried. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Angela and Loren grew up in a happy and stable environment, where their parents were actively involved in their lives and made sure they were loved and taken care of.

As time went on, Clinton, Missouri became Angela’s home, and she cherished the friends, memories, and future she was making for herself there. Angela’s best friend, Kyla Engeman, described her as an intelligent woman who knew how to have fun anywhere she went. There was never a dull moment with her, and the energetic and positive energy beaming off of her made people want to be around her.

Angela Hammond and Kyla

In November of 1990, 19-year-old Angela met Rob Shafer, an 18-year-old high school star athlete who had ambitions to join the military. The two quickly intertwined and fell in love. The following year in January 1991, she announced to Rob that she was pregnant. Rob was thrilled by the news and subsequently proposed, where Angela ecstatically accepted. The newly engaged couple soon moved in together at a rented trailer home and started planning ahead for their new journey in life. Rob still had plans to follow through with enlisting in the military later that summer, while Angela was working at the Union State Bank as a night processor and taking college courses in Central Missouri State University thirty miles away in Warrensburg, Missouri.

Angela’s relationship with Bob continued to blossom and they were both wanted and accepted into each other’s families. Four months later, nobody could have predicted the mysterious turn of events that continues to baffle the small town to this very day.

On the unusually warm Spring evening of Thursday, April 4, 1991, Angela was accompanied by her fiance at her mother’s residence to have a family barbeque. The entire night had gone smoothingly–where everything seemed to be perfectly intertwined to have a relaxing and blissful time with friends and family.

Shortly after 9:00 p.m. Angela and Rob decided to head back to Clinton because he had plans to be at his mother’s home, Carol Shafer, by 10:00 p.m. to babysit his younger brother, Justin Shafer. The couple had plans to meet up in town later that night when his mother returned in a few hours, so when she dropped him off she proceeded to spend time with her best friend, Kyla, and cruise the downtown square to have a little fun to pass the time.

At approximately 11:15 p.m. Angela and Kyla parted ways for the night. Thereafter, she decided to call Rob at the nearest payphone on the corner of 210 South 2nd Street where the Food Barn Store parking lot was situated — now the Jim Raysik Car Dealership. She didn’t own a home phone and wanted to tell him that she was exhausted and planned on going back home to soak in a bath. The two continued speaking on the phone for thirty minutes, but at 11:45 p.m. the lives of everyone in Clinton, Missouri changed in an unsettling fashion that still looms over the small town.

In the midst of the phone call, Angela alerted Rob to a conspicuous man circling the block several times in an older modeled green Ford F150 pickup truck. Moments later the driver pulled over near her and stepped outside of the truck and walked toward the unoccupied phone booth next to Angela. Seconds later he returned to his truck and grabbed a flashlight and started waving it around as if he was searching for something. Trying to ease the unsettling tension, Angela asked if he needed to use the phone and he told her no. All of a sudden, a horrifying scream could be heard and Rob — who lived 7-blocks away — immediately tossed aside the landline phone and jumped out of his seat to rush to Angela’s aide.

Angela Hammond Truck 2On his way to her, a similar truck matching what Angela relayed darted passed him with a woman struggling with the driver and screaming “Robbie” for help. He hastily put his vehicle in reverse and made a sharp U-Turn to give chase. The pursuit continued for approximately two miles before Rob’s transmission malfunctioned when he made a right turn, resulting in the vehicle stalling in the middle of the road, as the truck with the woman in tow quickly faded out of view.

Unfortunately, Rob had no choice but to walk back to town. Luckily, a passing motorist noticed him and picked him up and Rob asked to be taken to the police station so he could notify them of what just transpired. He arrived at the department just shy over midnight and reported the incident.

 

Rob told the police Angela described the unidentified male as “filthy and bearded.” He was wearing coveralls, a dark-colored baseball hat, eyeglasses, and had a full beard with a mustache. The truck he was driving was a green Ford F150 with a white top and delineated to be between the late 60s to early 70s. There had been partial damage on the left side front fender, and on the rear window was a mural of a fish jumping out of the water. A composite sketch of the person of interest was created, although it had been met with much scrutiny because it doesn’t feature key characteristics that Angela described to Rob.

Angela Hammond Composite Sketch

Initially, the police were skeptical of Rob’s story, believing it seemed too contrived and convenient. Nevertheless, as they began their investigation they uncovered Rob’s vehicle undrivable in the middle of the street. Shortly thereafter they found Angela’s car abandoned at the shopping center parking lot with her purse still inside.

Detective Damon Parsons of the Clinton Police Department notified Marsha on the scenario unfolding, which caused immediate frantic. She contacted Angela’s father, Chris, and delivered the devastating news. He promptly made the trip to Clinton, Missouri and resided there for several weeks to assist with trying to locate his daughter.

Angela Hammond Rob ShaferFor the first week of the investigation, Rob was considered the prime suspect in Angela’s disappearance, but after passing a polygraph test and two witnesses coming forward claiming to see the same truck as Rob described to police, he was subsequently ruled out.

As the police continued rounding up friends and family for questioning and additional details, they focused on Angela’s ex-boyfriend, 17-year-old Bill Barker. There were rumors going around that he was the father of Angela’s baby, but he denied those allegations and after looking further into things, he was no longer considered a suspect.

The community rallied together distributing missing person’s posters all throughout town, plastering the photographs on local storefront windows, diners, and truck stops that were often frequented. Over 250 volunteers including friends, family and the police, conducted an air and ground search scouring the entirety of Clinton looking for Angela. Water wells, creek beds, old country roads that are isolated, barns, woods, fields, and abandoned buildings were heavily combed with no luck.

Eleven days later the Clinton Police Department contacted the Missouri Rural Crime Scene Squad seeking help into the investigation. As a result, 25 police officers from 15 neighboring counties happily accommodated them. The Missouri Highway Patrol also looked through their database of all registered vehicles. A list of 1,600 potential pickup trucks matching what Angela’s kidnapper was possibly driving was compiled and sought out for new suspects, but the extensive search proved fruitless.

The police were at a loss for words–perplexed as to how a small town crime wasn’t providing evidence and answers that would hone in on a probable suspect. In turn, they started to consider the possibility that Angela’s abduction could be connected to two similar disappearances that had occurred within an 80-mile radius months earlier in January and February of 1991.

In Macks Creek, Missouri — a small country-oriented town with a population of fewerTrudy Darby than 500 residents — on Saturday, January 19, 1991, 42-year-old Trudy Darby was working the night shift at the local K & D Convenience Store. At approximately 10:00 p.m. Trudy was in the process of closing up the store for the night when she noticed three men lingering just outside of the store. Feeling unnerved by their presence, she phoned her son, Waylon Darby, asking him to assist her because she felt uncomfortable. Waylon obliged and arrived in ten minutes, but his mother was nowhere to be found. Two days later on January 21, 1991, Trudy’s nude body was discovered fifteen miles away in the Little Niangua River; she had been shot twice in the head by a .38 caliber.

Cheryl Ann Kenney.jpgOne month later on Wednesday, February 27, 1991, another remarkably similar incident occurred 80-miles away in Nevada, Missouri — another small town about the same size as Clinton, Missouri. Cheryl Ann Kenney, a 30-year-old wife, and mother of two, was working at the Quality Convenience Store located on Business 71 Highway. It was 10:00 p.m. and she was accompanied by the store janitor and a male customer. The store typically stayed open until midnight, but the night was going relatively slow so she decided to close up the shop and allowed the janitor to leave early. Cheryl proceeded to count the till and store the money in the backroom. At 10:17 p.m. she set the store’s alarm system and made her way to her white Chevrolet resting in the parking lot. It’s unclear as to what truly happened afterward, but she never returned home and hasn’t been seen since.

Three years later in the summer of 1994, the case of the abduction and murder of Trudy Darby was solved. The perpetrators were 15-year-old Jessie Rush and his half-brother, Marvin Chaney. They were arrested after Jessie had visited Kansas City and bragged to multiple friends — Elizabeth Corpening, Carl Blakely, and Gretchen Chastain — that he was responsible for Trudy’s murder and successfully got away with it. Jessie’s friends were shocked by his revelations and rightfully alerted the police. Subsequently, he was interrogated and ultimately confessed to the crime.

 

Jessie didn’t hold back the details of the grisly crime. He professed that he, Chaney, and another accomplice had planned the abduction of Trudy beforehand. They entered the store and held her up at gunpoint — stealing $220.00 from the cash register and forcing her into their vehicle. She attempted to defend herself, which only angered them more. They transported her to a nearby barn, where they sexually and physically assaulted her. Afterward, they shot her once in the head and put her body in the trunk of their car and took her to the Little Niangua River to dispose of her. When they opened the trunk they noticed she was still breathing so they shot her once more and discarded her body.

A few months later on December 24, 1994, Trudy’s father, Wilbert Blecher, passed away at the age of 69-years-old. Before perishing, he expressed his utmost gratitude for being alive long enough to have the resolution and justice he desperately sought after for three years. Six years following on November 21, 2000, Trudy’s mother, Betty Jean Thompson Belcher passed away at 74-years-old.

While Jessie was in jail awaiting trial he became acquainted with several inmates, one of whom was Edward Thomas, who he befriended because he believed he was a lawyer that could help him lessen his charges of abduction and murder. With his misguided faith, Jessie wrote 13 letters to Thomas that incriminated him further with Darby’s murder and also suggested that he and Chaney are behind many more audacious unsolved crimes that hadn’t been solved.

In one particular letter, he proclaimed:

I just wish my brother would have done like I said at the barn and burnt the bitch up but that pussy ass cheevers and parel desided to take the bitch to a fuckin river instead. I was to fucked up to argue with em all I wanted to do was fuck the bitch then shoot her in the head to watch her brains come out. Sounds cool huh? if the bitch would have not moved in the trunk at the river my brother wouldn’t of had to shoot her in the head again just the have the cops find a shell the stupid mother fucker the only smart thing we did was have marshels brother greg burn the barn other wise the mother fuckers would have a lot more on us. im glad they don’t know every thing else we did or i’d be on death row.

In a barrage of additional letters sent to Thomas, Jessie alluded that he Chaney had committed many more unsolved crimes, saying:

I never told you about them other bitchs because if it gets found by accident it can get us involved in killing them other fucking bitchs. the cops don’t even know about my brother and me killing any other bitchs except Macks Creek. them other bitchs in my last letter to you were both like that bitch in Macks Creek we all tortured the bitchs then fucked the dog shit out of em.

Three years later in April 1997, Jessie Rush and Marvin Chaney were sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Rush was transported to South Central Correctional Facility in Licking, Missouri, and Chaney was imprisoned at the maximum-security Potosi Correctional Center in Mineral Point, Missouri. In September of 2017, Chaney passed away at the age of 56-years-old due to natural causes.

As for Angela’s disappearance in 1991, the first year was emotionally overwhelming for family and friends, because they still had to maintain their responsibilities as an adult. In June of 1991, Rob Shafer had gone to Fort Eustis, VA, to train for the National Guardsmen, while Kyla Engeman planned to relocate to Colorado. Later that year, Marsha won a vacation trip to Florida from her place of employment, but she didn’t want to accept the prize because she felt guilty — spending time having a few days of enjoyment while her daughter was missing. Nevertheless, friends and coworkers convinced her to take the opportunity to recharge her batteries from all the turmoil.

In October of 1991, a new possible lead emerged from a man named Russel Smith. He was living in Libau, Manitoba, Canada, but decided to visit family living in Ulrich, Missouri. He hadn’t any knowledge regarding who Angela was or the circumstances surrounding her disappearance until he saw a missing person’s poster. Once he did, he had an epiphany and immediately contacted the Clinton Police Department. According to his assertion, during September he witnessed a woman matching Angela’s description getting inside of a green pickup truck that had a white top and mural on the rear window after leaving a drugstore in Selkirk, Manitoba, Canada.

Russel’s bold allegation caused Clinton’s Police Chief Bob Pattison to contact Sgt Bob MacQuarrie of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to alert them to the possible new development. In response, MacQuarrie followed up on the sighting. Considering Angela was four-months pregnant at the time of her disappearance, they made the logical deduction that she may have given birth to her child. They proceeded to visit all the hospitals and baby stores in the area with Angela’s photograph to see if any staff members had remembered seeing her, but nobody recognized her.

The following month in November 1991, the production crew for Unsolved Mysteries arrived in Clinton, Missouri, to film a re-enactment of Angela’s disappearance. The episode was broadcasted on television the very next month. With the latest televised coverage, David Rader, the producer for the television show, urged law enforcement to not raise their expectations too high because only two of the 49 missing person cases they covered had been solved by the public. By the end of 1991, the investigation into Angela’s disappearance was met with despondency.

In the summer of 1992, another baffling mystery occurred in Springfield, Missouri, when Sherrill Levitt, Suzie Streeter, and Stacy McCall vanished without a trace on the same night. Their disappearance sent shockwaves across the nation. Shortly thereafter, Marsha became friends with Stacy’s mother, Janis McCall, and formed a unique bond — becoming a moral support shoulder to lean on in the wake of their nightmarish tragedies. The two of them were later invited to be on the Oprah Winfrey show to keep their missing loved ones in the spotlight in the hopes of garnishing new leads that would bring closure.

Regrettably, Angela’s disappearance went stagnant for years. The police had ruled out Jessie Rush and Marvin Chaney as suspects in Angela’s disappearance and couldn’t locate any hard evidence linking them to Cheryl’s vanishing either. In April of 2009, new information was brought forth by the Clinton Police Department. They provided a statement to the media claiming they have new evidence in the case, particularly of DNA nature, due to advancements in technology an forensic science, but they never elaborated fully as to what they unearthed.

Angela Hammond's mother

Since then, very little updates have surfaced in the subsequent years. 27-years have passed from when Angela disappeared, and lack of answers has continued to plague friends and family of Angela’s. Nonetheless, they had to resume building on to their own lives. The Hammond family still pursues closure with a relentless passion and makes sure Angela’s memory isn’t forgotten. They still remain in contact with Rob and consider him a part of their family. As for Rob Shafer, he eventually moved 60 miles away and works construction and has a beautiful family of his own. Though the heartache and what-ifs still linger, Angela’s family embraces her gleeful personality–honoring her by thinking positive and shedding light in dark places, as Angela so often did.

The Unsolved Disappearance of Morgan Nick

You hear it all the time; “Back then, people didn’t lock their doors at night.” That phrase often gets mentioned when devastating crimes occur in unexpected places that are deemed safe by the community. When those tragedies happen everything changes, but sometimes positives can blossom through the aftermath of the rubble. In the unsolved disappearance of Morgan Nick, her story has remained a beacon of hope that transcended across the nation. This is her story.

Morgan NickOn September 12, 1988, John and Colleen Nick gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby daughter they named Morgan Chauntel Nick. She was raised in the small populated town of Ozark, Arkansas, a community of fewer than 4,000 residents. By 1994, Morgan became the oldest of two other siblings, Logan Nick, who was almost four-years-old, and a younger sister, Taryn Nick, who was a vibrant 22-month-old baby.

As a young kid with a wild imagination, Morgan’s aspirations ranged from being a medical doctor to a circus performer. In school, she had signed up for the track team but quickly regretted that decision because she didn’t enjoy sweating. In turn, she decided to start participating in Girls Scouts where they often did indoor activities.

Even at such a young age, Morgan possessed character traits that would undoubtedly lead to a successful future, no matter which avenue she pursued. Not only did she have the uncanny ability to make others laugh, she also never limited herself to experiencing new things. When she was five-years-old, she adopted a kitten she named Emily, and a motherly bond was immediately formed. From then on, the two were thick as thieves and Emily would always be found sleeping next to her at night.

Morgan Nick Cat

The potential Morgan had was very bright. She enjoyed being around others and people loved being around her, but on a summer day in 1995, everything that should have been for Morgan’s future was snuffed out, and the young girl with a heartwarming smile that could make anyone laugh suddenly had an entire community in shambles.

On the warm summer day of Friday, June 9, 1995, Colleen Nick wanted to share an afternoon with her oldest daughter, Morgan, because they hadn’t had a day for themselves in a long while. They planned to visit Alma, Arkansas — a quaint town thirty minutes west where everyone knew each other — to attend a Little League Baseball game with some friends living in the area while Morgan’s grandmother happily babysits her grandchildren.

Later that afternoon, Colleen and Morgan dined on grilled cheese sandwiches they made together before leaving town in their Nissan Stanza a little early, as this was their first time visiting Alma. They arrived at the local park where the baseball game was being held without a hitch and met up with their friends. By the time the game had started, there was a total of 300 people in attendance.

Throughout the entire evening, everyone was having a wonderful time — people could be heard roaring with cheers and laughter on the bleachers, and Morgan would sneakily untie her mother’s tennis shoes when she wasn’t looking for a funny joke. As time carried on, Morgan became restless. At 10:30 p.m. two of Morgan’s friends, 8-year-old Jessica and 10-year-old Tye [last names are omitted] invited her to play in the nearby field 75-yards away to catch lightning bugs. Morgan asked her mother for permission but Colleen was hesitant due to the late hour and being unfamiliar with the area, but her friends assured her everything would be okay because kids often played in the field next to the parking lot without any hiccups.

Colleen ultimately gave her consent but told her to stay in view. Morgan was hard to miss, as her green Girl Scouts t-shirt and white tennis shoes could easily be seen from a distance. Colleen would periodically glance over to check on Morgan and nothing seemed amiss as she and her two friends pranced across the field, where the parking lot light poles loomed over illuminating the area.

Fifteen minutes had quickly passed by and at 10:45 p.m. the baseball game concluded and people were beginning to gather their belongings and walk to their vehicles. Morgan’s two friends, Jessica and Tye, ran back to the bleachers to meet up with their families but Morgan wasn’t present.

Colleen, confused by the situation, asked where Morgan was, but they said she was in the parking lot near her car emptying out sand that filled her shoes from running amok in the field. She frantically ran to her car expecting her daughter to be there, but she wasn’t in sight. Growing more concerned by the second, she alerted one of the baseball coaches and they began asking Jessica and Tye more questions, and alarming new information came to light.

The two said that while they had been playing, a man they characterized as “creepy” approached and spoke to them as they were dumping sand from their shoes. He had been standing beside a faded red colored Ford pickup truck that had a white camper shell. Not too long after, the baseball game had ended and that’s when they ran back to their parents. An immediate search began but Morgan and the eerie man next to the red truck was gone.

The police were called to the scene and they arrived within six minutes. They performed an additional search thoroughly of the parking lot and fields, but the 4-foot-tall, 55-pound girl with blonde hair and blue eyes was nowhere to be found. Interviews were soon conducted with those still at the park. Several eyewitnesses corroborated the children’s testimony and provided additional details on the suspicious male. He was described as a Caucasian male between the ages of 23-38-years-old and spoke with a “hillbilly” accent. He had a medium build at approximately 180 pounds and was estimated to be 6’0 tall, and he had salt and pepper colored hair that was slicked back, with a mustache and a one-inch thick beard. The truck he was driving was a low wheelbase, red Ford pickup with dulled paint and a white camper shell that had curtains on the inside covering the windows. Witnesses noted the camper shell was too short for the bed and there was rear damage on the passenger side.

The unidentified male was the prime suspect in Morgan’s disappearance and was immediately classified as an abduction. It was soon discovered that her vanishing wasn’t the only terrifying event that transpired that day. Earlier that evening in the same town, an unknown male driving a red truck attempted to lure a 4-year-old girl to his vehicle. The abduction was thwarted when the child’s mother intervened and alerted those around her. It’s unclear whether or not the same man presumably responsible for Morgan’s disappearance was behind this attempted abduction, but the coincidences were notable.

Interestingly, the following day after Morgan vanished, another report came through to the police when an unnamed man matching Morgan’s alleged abductor’s description unsuccessfully tried enticing a 9-year-old girl into a men’s restroom inside of a convenience store fifteen miles away from Alma in Fort Smith, Arkansas.

As for Colleen, she refused to return back home to Ozark, Arkansas without her daughter in hand. For the next six weeks, she remained steadfast and took up residence at a volunteer fire station located next door to the police building — doing anything she could fathom to help spread awareness to bring Morgan home. Flyers were made and distributed to locals, placed on the windows of stationary vehicles, and stapled across light poles all throughout the town. Colleen even faxed over urgent letters to President Clinton hoping to get the federal government to react quicker with nationwide bulletins when children go missing.

During this interval of time, a composite sketch was created of Morgan’s possible Morgan Nick Composite 1kidnapper and media coverage quickly swept the state. This resulted in over 4,000 tips and leads, and the police had to purchase a storage shed to file the uncanny amount of information in extra filing cabinets, but none of the leads panned out.

When Colleen returned home she had to break the devastating news to her children. None of them couldn’t fully comprehend the extent of the situation. Logan, the oldest sibling, only knew that Morgan wasn’t home and would frequently ask, “Why did you lose my sister?” as he broke down into tears repeatedly telling his mother to “Go get her,” because he missed playing with her around the house.

One year later in 1996, Colleen commenced the Morgan Nick Foundation in Alma, Arkansas; a non-profit organization that tries to help prevent children from going missing and offers a support system to families who are facing the hardships of a child disappearing. Likewise, the state of Arkansas honored Morgan by renaming their Amber Alert system after her — The Morgan Nick Amber Alert — that connected the police and over 250 radio stations in a statewide emergency broadcast.

In the subsequent years, Colleen relocated to Alma to make things easier for handling the Morgan Nick Foundation. Meanwhile, the police were still acquiring innumerable tips stemming from reported sightings and false confessions to the abduction, but all of them were ruled out or considered unreliable.

Morgan Nick CompositeIn 2001, Morgan’s case garnished a lot of traction. A new composite sketch was unveiled of her believed kidnapper, as well as an age-progression sketch showing what Morgan may look like at her current age of twelve-years-old. On August 28, 2001, the television program Unsolved Mysteries broadcasted her case which created a massive resurgence that resulted in an ample amount of new tips.

One particular tip suggested that Morgan’s body could be located on a private property in Booneville, Arkansas. The information was deemed so specific and credible that the police initiated an immediate examination on January 15, 2002. After a full day of digging with a backhoe, nothing was unearthed and the investigation was concluded at 9:30 p.m.

Morgan Nick Newspaper Wednesday Jan 16 2002.png

In the following years, the police were still receiving regular tips but they were either dead ends or exhausted to their fullest without any positive results, but on the bitterly cold morning of November 16, 2010, a narcotics officer thirty-five miles away in Spiro, Oklahoma, alerted investigators in Crawford County to an abandoned trailer home belonging to a convicted child molester who was serving time in prison. The information supplied wasn’t directly focused on Morgan’s case specifically, but the individual had been considered a viable person of interest since the very beginning of Morgan’s case and hadn’t been ruled out. Detectives in Crawford County assisted with the investigation at the property hoping to locate any DNA evidence pertaining to Morgan but none was uncovered.

Morgan Nick Tonya Smith

Two years later on June 23, 2012 — a little more than 17-years after Morgan disappeared — a brief glimmer of hope emerged and then diminished just as quickly in a despicable turn of events. Tonya Renee Smith, a 24-year-old Hollister, Missouri native who had served time in Louisiana State Prison, tried assuming Morgan Nick’s identity by purchasing vital documents and a birth certificate via the website VitalCheck. Due to the extreme nature of Morgan’s case the police were alerted and on August 2, 2012, Tonya was apprehended in Branson, Missouri. She was soon extradited to Arkansas and spent 120 days in Pulaski County Jail. On February 28, 2013, she was charged with computer fraud and sentenced to six years of probation and ordered to pay a $2,500.00 fine.

Once again, Morgan’s case turned into a standstill, but five years later on December 18, 2017, another seemingly crucial tip regarding a water-well led investigators back to the abandoned trailer home in Spiro, Oklahoma they had searched seven years prior. The LeFlore County Sheriff, Rob Seale, along with the FBI and numerous Cadaver dogs, spent the entire afternoon combing for evidence, but regrettably, their efforts proved fruitless.

It’s now 2018 and Morgan Nick has been missing for nearly 22-years. For the town of Alma, Arkansas, many things have changed since the unfateful day of Morgan’s disappearance, including the baseball field she vanished from, which has since been remodeled into a parking lot, but her spirit still lives on in the community.

Colleen Nick.jpg

At the public library, a bulletin board can be found that features flyers for missing children. There’s also a 5K/1 Mile Walk fundraiser hosted annually that helps provide extra resources for The Morgan Nick Foundation to further help prevent children going missing — an organization that has successfully solved over 40 missing person’s cases –many of whom had gone missing for over twenty years — and returned home safely.

As for Colleen Nick, she remains undaunted that her daughter will be found alive, saying “No one else has to believe it because I believe it enough for everyone. I think there will be people who will be amazed when Morgan comes home.” Though a considerable amount of time has gone by, she continues to fight and pursue closure. While others may not share the same sentiment, Colleen does, and her relentless faith is a testament for anyone struggling with something in their life. Never give up hope.

The Unsolved Murder of Janett Christman

Urban legends have been around for centuries. Typically, there’s always partial truth to the stories, but they tend to become hyperbole as the tales get passed on to other people. In this narrative, the tragic elements became an anecdote that managed to seep into Hollywood and inspire countless of horror films that have since formed into cult classics such as “Halloween” by John Carpenter and “When a Stranger Calls” by Fred Walton. As you will soon see, the reality is much scarier than fiction.

Janett Christmann

Janett Christman was born on March 21, 1936. She was the oldest daughter of Charles and Lula Christman, with a younger sister by 18-months, Reta Christman Smith and a newborn baby, Cheryl Christman Bottorff. The young family of five had been living in Boonville, Missouri before relocating to the small, college-oriented town of Columbia, Missouri, known for its football team, Missouri (Mizzou) Tigers, and were living on the upper floor of the business they owned, Ernie’s Cafe and Steakhouse, where they made an honest and reputable living.

Janett was 13-years-old and an 8th-grade student at Jefferson Junior High School. She was described as a loving churchgoing teenager who had a knack for playing the piano in the choir, intelligent, and independent for her age — working fervently for the things she desired.

On the brisk Saturday of March 18, 1950, there was a dance party being held that evening for students. Janett had been invited to go by several of her friends but declined because he had plans to babysit. She would often babysit for two families that were well acquainted with one another; the Romacks and the Muellers. On this evening, she was going to be tending to Ed and Anne Romack’s 3-year-old son, Gregory, hoping the job would provide enough money for a burgundy colored suit she had been saving up for the upcoming Easter holiday.

Dusk began to settle in and around 7:30 p.m. Janett arrived at the Romacks’ residence. The couple had recently moved to a rural and isolated home on 1015 Stewart Road directly on the outskirts of Columbia. At the time, Anne was pregnant, and due to the recent and exhausting relocation they hadn’t been able to have a night out just for themselves in a long while, so when the chance arose to spend time with friends and play cards, they capitalized on the opportunity.

When Janett arrived, Anne assured her that Gregory enjoyed sleeping with the radio on and he shouldn’t be too much of a hassle. Prior to leaving, Ed quickly taught Janett how to load, unload, and fire the shotgun in case anything transpired. As they were leaving, Ed placed the gun near the front door and said they would be back soon and advised her to lock the door and turn the front porch light on if anyone came knocking. With that, they departed in good spirits and went about their night.

Throughout the evening the weather began to worsen. The temperature dwindled down to the mid-twenties with a storm bringing in the rain and sleet. The robust winds swayed the nearby trees and echoed against the home. Despite the unexpected weather, there was no apparent cause for concern until 10:35 p.m. when Boone County Sheriff’s Department received a frantic phone call.

With the treacherous weather pouring in, the night for local police had been going relatively slow. When the phone suddenly began ringing, officer Ray McCowan picked up the receiver and asked what the emergency was. He was immediately met with the howls of a woman screaming in sheer panic, uttering the words “Come quick!” He tried intervening but the phone line was cut short and a dial tone was all that could be heard.

McCowan knew straightaway the horror emanating from the female caller’s voice was genuine and not a prank by doltish teenagers, but all he could do was anticipate the phone ringing again because the call was too short to provide a trace and the woman didn’t mention any additional information as to what was unfolding or her whereabouts.

Shortly thereafter, Anne Romack called home from the Moon Valley Villa — where she, her husband, the Muellers, and other friends were — to check on Janett and see how the night with Gregory was going, but nobody answered the phone. Considering it was quite late, Anne wasn’t too concerned, presuming Janett had fallen asleep. The Romacks continued to spend a few extra hours away before heading home at approximately 1:15 a.m.

It was 1:35 a.m. when the Romacks pulled into their driveway that was filled with rain and seeping mud. They noticed the porch light was on and the front window blinds were open wide. As Ed began to fiddle with his keys to unlock the front door, he realized it had already been unlocked. He was perplexed because of his instructions to Janett before leaving and as he and Anne walked through the front door they were met with a ghastly discovery.

Three days shy of her 14th birthday, Janett Christman was found sprawled out on the living room floor in a pool of blood soaking through the shagged carpet. She had been violently raped and murdered. Her legs were spread out with her right slipper barely hanging off her foot. There was a head wound from a blunt instrument, multiple puncture wounds from a mechanical pencil, and a cord from an electric iron that had been snipped with a pair of scissors was bound tightly around her neck.

Janett Christman Murder 1

A few feet away was the landline phone dangling off the hook — the reason why Anne was unable to get a response when she called earlier that evening. The sight of this horrifying scene sent Anne into a hectic state as she darted up the stairs to check on her 3-year-old son, Greg, who had been unharmed and shockingly still asleep, oblivious to the horror awaiting downstairs.

Ed Romack hastily dialed the police and they he were dispatched immediately. Sheriff Glen Powell from Boone County’s Sheriff’s Department arrived with numerous detectives and bloodhounds. Unfortunate complications soon arose, however, when Lt. Joe Douglas from the city police — a different jurisdiction that hadn’t any authority since the Romacks lived 100-yards out of city limits — arrived at the scene and attempted to take reign of the investigation. The battle of leadership had the separate agencies being uncooperative with one another, and though answers unraveled quickly, there were many disagreements amongst the two groups.

Inside of the home were clear indications Janett had resisted her attacker. Blood smears and fingerprints were found in the living room and kitchen, where the back door had been unlocked and left ajar. As the police followed the trail outside, the search dogs managed to track the assailant’s scent one mile up from Stewart Rd. to West Boulevard and across West Ash St. before losing the trail. Back at the crime scene, an adult male’s footprints were found near a side window of the residence that had been shattered with a garden hoe, where several authorities believed the perpetrator had gained entry, primarily due to muddy papers found on the piano that was situated nearby.

The method of entry is where the two jurisdictions collided. Due to Ed’s instructions he gave Janett, many detectives suspected the perpetrator knew Janett and tried appearing friendly to get inside. This theory was substantiated by the front porch light being turned on, as he told Janett to do if someone came to the door, the loaded shotgun nearby untouched, and the apparent knowledge as to where to locate the electric iron to use the cord for a murder weapon.

With this prevailing theory, law enforcement worked twelve-hour shifts tirelessly performing stakeouts and canvassing surrounding areas under the suspicion the killer may return to the scene to relish in what he had accomplished. Likewise, the police sought assistance from the public, asking for locals to call in if they see anything peculiar or anyone they know acting differently than normal.

Meanwhile, local officers had gone around questioning Janett’s friends, family, and students from her school. During this process, along with local residents phoning in possible leads, potential suspects were formed. However, it quickly became evident that a racial bias was present because the majority of the men brought in for questioning were black men in the community who were unwarrantedly deemed suspicious. Nevertheless, this tactic was fruitless and the police were no closer to resolving Janett’s murder.

This wasn’t the first rape and murder to befall Columbia, Missouri. Four years earlier on Marylou Jenkinsthe bitterly cold night of February 5, 1946, 20-year-old Marylou Jenkins had been brutally murdered in a similar manner to Janett.

Marylou was at home alone — coincidentally less than a mile away two blocks over from the Romack Residence — while her mother spent the evening a few houses away tending to an elderly couple, while her father was out of town conducting business. When Marylou’s mother had to spend the night away down the street, they conjured up a plan to alert one another if something was amiss. Their scheme was to turn on a light, lift up the shades, and place a phone call.

Late into the night, Marylou’s mother noticed a light on in her house with the shades up, but since she never received a phone call she didn’t believe anything was wrong. The following morning when she returned home, she stumbled upon the gut-wrenching scene of her daughter deceased on the living room floor. She had been raped and strangled with an extension cord.

Marylou Jenkins Newspaper

Two weeks later, Floyd Cochran, a 35-year-old disabled trash hauler, was arrested for savagely murdering his wife. Afterward, he attempted to commit suicide but was unsuccessful. Once the police were aware of what transpired, they took him into custody. Floyd willingly admitted without any remorse that he murdered his wife.

Considering the timeline of events and the desperate need to solve Marylou’s murder, Boone County investigators interrogated Floyd for ten hours, where he supposedly made incriminating statements that led to his guilt, and he later confessed to the crime, despite no evidence connecting him to the murder.

Floyd was subsequently sentenced to die on September 26, 1947, via the gas chamber. A few hours before being executed, he recanted his alleged confession. It was later discovered he was coerced to give a false confession, but the deed had already been done and Marylou’s death is considered solved.

A series of prowlers and peeping Toms would emerge in the following years, and in the late months of 1949, the activity increased with a string of sexual assaults.

The first rape occurred several days before Halloween. A 16-year-old teenager was babysitting on East Sunset Lane, when an unidentified male wearing a white homemade mask with holes cut out for eyes, broke into the residence and violated the young woman in the living room.

The following month on November 29, 1949, 18-year-old Stephens College student, Sally Johnson, became the next target. She lived one block away from where the prior victim was attacked and was home alone falling asleep on the sofa while watching television when an unknown male gained entry and attempted to violate her. Thankfully, she resisted her attacker and was left unharmed, as the perpetrator panicked and fled from the home.

On the very next day, another more brazen incident occurred. A college student enrolled at the University of Missouri was on a date with her boyfriend. They were at Hinkson Creek — a lover’s lane — and in their vehicle when a man draped in a white hood and brandishing a firearm appeared and ordered them out of the car. They did as he instructed and he forced the couple several yards away. He proceeded to rob and bind the male, then ordered the female to walk. When they were a considerable distance away, he sexually assaulted the female and sprinted away from the crime scene.

Days later on December 4, 1949, a 26-year-old black male named Jake Bradford had been arrested after the police caught him in the act of peeping inside a young woman’s window. Bradford spent a week in jail and after intense questioning, he confessed to assaulting the 16-year-old in October and the attempted rape of 18-year-old Sally Johnson, even though she was brought in to ask if he was the perpetrator and was unable to provide an adequate answer.

Nevertheless, the reports of peculiar prowlers and rapes in the area diminished. The police believed they apprehended the right man, and locals began to feel a sense of relief, then all of a sudden the nightmare resurfaced when the tragedy fell upon Janett Christman, with shocking parallels to Marylou Jenkins, causing many people to cast doubt on law enforcement’s original affirmation.

As the police continued on with their investigation into Janett Christman’s murder, one prime suspect named Robert Mueller materialized, and the circumstantial evidence against him began piling up heavily.

Mueller was 27-years-old and friends with Ed Romack since high school. After graduation, Mueller served in World War II as an Army Air Corps Captain and had a distinguishable record. He later returned to Columbia, Missouri, overlooking his father’s restaurant, Mueller’s Virginia Cafe, and working as a tailor. Many people remember him for dressing well and always carrying around a mechanical pencil in his front shirt or jacket pocket.

When Mueller and Ed Romack reacquainted, they shared mutual friends and would frequently spend time together. According to Ed, he had a lustful eye for virgin women and spoke about having a desire to defile someone young. Moreover, he knew Janett since she babysat for him on numerous occasions, and Ed recalled him making lecherous comments about her well-developed hips and breasts.

Additionally, Mueller’s lewd behavior stemmed over to Ed’s wife, Anne, who felt uncomfortable around him because of his uninvited sexual advancements. Much to her dismay, one day before Janett’s murder Mueller had been visiting the home helping Anne hemp a dress and reportedly tried groping her breasts. In a formal statement given to police, Anne described Mueller as a man who “doesn’t use words, he uses his hands.”

The oddities didn’t end there, however. The morning of Janett’s death, Robert contacted Janett to ask if she would babysit his children for the night, but she declined because she already had prearrangements to look after the Romacks’ son. Furthermore, Mueller attended the gathering with the Romacks and their mutual friends but hours into the party he excused himself claiming he had to meet a doctor who was meant to tend to his son. Mueller disappeared for two hours before returning to the party. The police questioned Mueller’s doctor and discovered he never went to the Mueller residence that evening.

To implicate Robert even further, Ed Romack got a phone call from Mueller at his father’s home on the morning after the murder. Supposedly, he had asked if he needed any assistance with cleaning up the blood throughout the house. However, he shouldn’t have known about the tragedy that took place because the crime hadn’t been printed in the local newspaper yet.

Additionally, Ed claimed Mueller would later speak to him regarding the crime and began expounding on how he believed the crime unfolded, claiming that breaking a window to climb into the home would be too loud and noticeable. Instead, it would be much easier to knock on the door and say, “Ed sent me here to get poker chips.”

The circumstantial evidence against Mueller was staggering and overwhelming. In May 1950, law enforcement compiled all the evidence against him and went to his residence to speak with him. Rather than following the basic guidelines of an arrest warrant and interview procedure, the officers didn’t take him into custody — rather, they transported him to a farmhouse outside of city limits and interrogated him at length throughout the course of the night. Mueller was subsequently taken to the state capital, Jefferson City, where he was given a polygraph test and passed.

With the unfortunate results of the lie detector test, the detectives had to let Mueller go free. However, all of the evidence pointed in his direction and the court judge, W.M. Dinwiddle, felt compelled to arrange a grand jury to investigate Mueller’s case further.

Over time and legal issues, Robert Mueller was never charged because of the profound level of incompetence police conducted during their investigation into him. These intertwined factors led Mueller to not be apprehended and he later sued the police department but lost the lawsuit. Afterward, he relocated with his family to Tuscon, Arizona, and in 2006 he passed away at 83-years-old.

After everything that had transpired in the small town of Columbia, it seemed as if all families involved in some form or another needed to uproot their lives from the haunting memories and start anew. The Romacks moved to Idaho Falls, Idaho, and lived with sincere regret that conclusive answers were never given. In the 1980s, Anne passed away. Ed eventually remarried and in 2016 he passed away at 93-years-old. As for his son, Gregory, he grew up successful and settled down in Alaska.

The Christman family remained in Columbia and continued running their business until Janett’s father, Charles Christman, passed away on September 24, 1974, at 60-years-old. After his death, his wife Lula Christman moved to Kansas City, where she would remain until her passing in 2009. Her oldest daughter, Reta, would settle down with a wonderful man and start a family of her own, while the youngest daughter Cheryl — who was only a baby at the time of Janet’s murder — moved to Florida.

It’s now been 68 years, and the once loving, hard-working, and independent 13-year-old who was saving up for a burgundy dress for Easter, would have been 82-years-old on March 21, 2018. While the Romacks and the Christman family believed Robert Mueller is responsible for Janett’s murder, they were painfully stricken with the unsatisfaction for receiving legal justice and closure, and the case officially remains unsolved.

 

The Mysterious Disappearance of the Fort Worth Three

How can someone vanish without a trace? That’s a question that’s difficult to fathom. On the week of Christmas in Fort Worth, Texas, three young women disappeared while shopping at the local mall. What should have been a joyous time to relax and spend the winter break with friends and family, three families spent their holiday desperately searching for their loved ones and praying for a miracle, yet with every passing day, their hope diminished. The whereabouts of the three women are still unknown. This is the enthralling unsolved disappearance of Rachel Trlica, Lisa Wilson, and Julie Moseley.

FortWorthTrio

Mary Rachel Trlica was a 17-year-old senior in high school. She was a middle child and had an 11-year-old brother, Rusty Arnold and an older sister, 19-year-old, Debra Arnold. Though she was young, Rachel was married to 21-year-old Thomas Trlica and was living with him and his two-year-old son from a prior relationship.

Bizarrely, Thomas had been previously engaged to Rachel’s older sister, of whom was living with the couple due to a strained relationship with her then current boyfriend she had been residing with. Though the oddity of the personal relationships between them seemed uncomfortable from an outsider’s perspective, there was reportedly no awkward tension amongst them and they all got along well.

On the cold Monday morning on December 23, 1974, Rachel was planning on finishing up some last minute Christmas shopping. Not wanting to spend the afternoon alone, she asked Debra if she would like to come with her, but she declined. Rachel decided to contact her friend, 14-year-old Lisa Wilson and asked if she would like to join her. Lisa happily accepted the offer but inclined that she needed to be home by 4:00 p.m. because she had plans to attend a dinner party with her new boyfriend, Terry Moseley.

Terry Moseley was 15-years-old and had a younger sister, 9-year-old Julie Moseley. He lived adjacent to Lisa’s grandmother’s home, where she often visited when her mother was working at the dry cleaner’s. Moments before Rachel’s phone call to Lisa, Terry gained the courage to ask Lisa to be his girlfriend — whom she had a crush on for a long time — and was ecstatic when he offered a promise ring to promote his commitment.

Lisa asked if he would like to accompany them for the afternoon. He declined because he had prearranged plans, but he was excited to spend time with her at the party later that evening. Terry’s sister, Julie Moseley, asked if she could go with Rachel and Lisa because she didn’t want to spend all day alone at home. At the time, Rachel and Julie hadn’t known one another and due to this, Rayanne Moseley — Julie’s mother — was hesitant but since she trusted Lisa, she gave her consent after persistent nagging.

Rachel set out in her Oldsmobile 95 to pick Lisa and Julie up and the trio left the neighborhood at midday. Their first stop was to the local Army/Navy Surplus store so Rachel could pay off a few layaway items. Afterward, they visited Seminary South Shopping Center, where Rachel parked her vehicle on the upper-level near the Sears department. Unknowingly to them, this would be their final stop and their whereabouts are unknown.

When the three girls didn’t arrive home at the designated time, family members grew worried. Two hours later panic seeped in further and they decided to go to the mall themselves to search for them. They managed to find Rachel’s vehicle, but the girls were nowhere in sight despite extensive scouring throughout the mall’s interior and exterior layout.

The evidence suggested they had done quite a bit of shopping and made it back to the vehicle safe because Rachel’s car was locked numerous Christmas presents in shopping bags with receipts inside. Several family members continued searching for their loved ones at other varying locations while others remained at the shopping center with the hope of the girls returning, but they never arrived.

At approximately 11:00 p.m. they contacted Fort Worth Police Department to file a missing person(s) report. Law enforcement originally presumed two scenarios — either the girls had met up with acquaintances and would soon turn up or their disappearance was a purposeful runaway case despite no viable motive and the unfamiliarity between Rachel and Julie. With this determination, the investigation wasn’t properly handled, and they released Rachel’s car to her husband–neglecting to examine it for evidence and made no attempts to dust for fingerprints.

The following morning Rachel’s husband discovered a peculiar envelope with a letter in his mailbox that provided a glimmer of hope and sheer confusion. The return address couldn’t be determined because the zip code was smeared. From what was evident, the numbers seemed to spell out “76083,” but the number “3” was written backward. Family members assumed the “3” was actually an “8” which would lead to Weatherford, Texas, thirty-five minutes away. The other possibility was the zip code “76483” that would pinpoint Throckmorton, Texas — a small town two-hours away with a population of less than a thousand people.

Thomas Trlica letter
Image Source: Websleuths

As for the contents of the letter, the message was written in childish handwriting and stated, “I know I’m going to catch it, but we just had to get away. We’re going to Houston. See you in about a week. The car is in Sear’s upper lot. Love Rachel.” Rachel’s family members adamantly believe[d] the author was not Rachel for numerous reasons. First of all, her name had been misspelled and the writer seemingly tried fixing the error. Secondly, the family suggested the letter was too formal. It had been addressed to “Thomas A. Trlica,” but anyone acquainted with him always referred to him as “Tommy.” Lastly, handwriting experts inspected the letter and other writings produced by Rachel and the results were inconclusive. Years later when forensic science became more advanced, DNA was uncovered from the letter that did not belong to Rachel, Lisa, or Julie, and it’s unknown who’s it belongs to.

Once the disappearances were made known from local media outlets, eyewitnesses spoke with law enforcement claiming to have seen the girls in the mall throughout the afternoon. Multiple store clerks stated they appeared to be in a joyous mood. Other testimonies provided conflicting reports, however. In one particular account, a woman mentioned seeing several adult men luring the girls into a pickup truck on the upper-level parking lot. An additional witness asserted spotting the girls in a security patrol car that was making the rounds on the exterior of the shopping center near the Sears department. Other reports began trickling in from all over Texas; with people phoning in tips saying they witnessed the girls at various convenient and grocery shopping stores.

All of the latest testimonies presented contrary deductions law enforcement initially thought and valuable time evaporated. In turn, all of these potential leads were fully investigated but nothing tangible was able to be obtained.

Family members were progressively becoming infuriated with what they felt was inadequate police work, so in 1975 they hired a private investigator named Jon Swaim. With Swaim’s tenacity, he received many anonymous tips — one of which was in March of 1976 that took him five hours away to a bayou in Port Lavaca, Texas, where he was told he would locate the girls’ remains. An extensive search was conducted for multiple days but the effort proved fruitless and nothing of substantial worth was gleaned.

A few months later, Fort Worth Police Department received a phone call from a female psychic living in Hawaii. She told them they could find the girls’ remains at an oil well. Sadly, she didn’t specify where and for five years authorities were chasing their own tails until 1981 when an employee working at an oil company in Houston, Texas, unearthed three sets of skeletal remains. Hoping for a big break in the case, medical examiners performed rigorous testing and they concluded the remains did not belong to the missing women.

In 1979, hired investigator Jon Swaim passed away. The cause of death was ruled a suicide by a drug overdose, believed to be initiated by an awful divorce he was dealing with. Upon request via Swaim’s will, all of his research, discoveries, sources, and contacts were discarded. It’s unknown what kind of information he was able to procure during his three-year investigation.

Seven years after the girls disappeared, a new male witness came forward. He told law enforcement he observed an adult male pushing a [lone] girl into a van on the upper-level parking lot of the shopping center. Out of concern, he confronted the unidentified male and was promptly told to mind his own business because it was merely a family dispute. Law enforcement was unable to corroborate the validity of the story, but they did note the similarities from initial eyewitnesses.

Time continued to flow on, as well as the years, and throughout this time the Fort Worth Police Department received a fluctuation of tips and leads from locals, anonymous callers, and even psychics, but they were either unreliable or investigated exhaustively with no pivotal outcome. As a result, the case began to turn cold and remained stagnant for a long time.

Twenty years later in 1995, Rachel’s younger brother, Rusty Arnold — who was only 11-years-old at the time of his sister’s disappearance — communicated with private investigator Dan James to hire him for his service. This would be a decision that created turmoil amongst family members because it separated an already broken family further.

Interestingly, Dan had known about the case for a long time beforehand and had been conducting independent research prior to being contacted. James declined to accept any payment for any additional work because he was investigating purely out of kindheartedness; even offering a $25,000.00 reward of his own money to anyone who could provide pertinent information that would bring resolution to the case.

Throughout the years Rusty and James worked together they managed to unearth shocking information from sources they deemed credible. According to what they were told, Rachel was astonishingly alive and well; and has been purposefully kept away from Fort Worth, but manages to visit every Christmas since her mysterious disappearance, with the latest visit occurring in 1998. Additionally, the source(s) also shared the sentiment that Lisa Wilson and Julie Moseley had been murdered, though they didn’t how and who was involved.

Rusty and James pursued this appalling lead but they were unable to substantiate the claims, but this avenue led to family issues unraveling. According to Rusty, he believes his older sister Debra wrote the strange letter Thomas received the following morning when the girls disappeared and have more answers than she seems to suggest because she was uncooperative throughout the investigation and refused to take a polygraph test. This allegation was shared by some law enforcement officials and private investigator Dan James, of whom Rusty’s mother, Fran Langston, believes is tampering with Rusty’s mind.

Nevertheless, Debra maintained her innocence and in January of 2000, she spoke with Fort Worth’s newspaper, the Star-Telegram, and proclaimed she had nothing to hide. Debra’s public statement caused Rusty, Rayanne Moseley — Julie’s mother — and Lisa’s parents, Judy and Richard Wilson, to respond with a formal letter saying:

Dear Debra,

We read your statement in the Fort Worth’s Star Telegram on January 9, 2000. You indicated that you ‘had nothing to hide.’ If your statement is true, we beg and plead with you to fully cooperate with the Fort Worth Police Department and the FBI. Please complete the polygraph testing and answer all questions.

Debra, please keep in mind you also have a sister missing.

Respectfully,

Rayanne Moseley
Rusty Arnold
Judy Wilson
Richard Wilson

A resurgence in the case occurred in 2001 when detective Tom Boetcher took over the case. After holding a press conference, another witness named Bill Hutchins came forward detailing an interesting encounter he had with a security guard in a pickup truck as he was leaving the mall at 11:30 p.m. He and the guard conversed briefly, and while doing so he noticed three girls occupying the front seat of his vehicle. From his perspective, they were in good spirits — laughing and joking around with one another.

Law enforcement was skeptical of his testimony and asked why he didn’t report this sooner. Bill told the authorities he did notify them about the incident days after they disappeared but they didn’t follow up with him. Likewise, officers managed to locate the security guard, who denied all allegations pertaining to Bill’s story, though it was consistent with other witnesses at the time.

Subsequently, not an entire lot of substantial information has been released publically. It’s now been over forty years and though the case has seen its gloomy days, new progress is being made that allows hope for optimism. The main consensus amongst law enforcement is that whoever abducted Rachel Trlica, Lisa Wilson, and Julie Moseley — if that indeed is the case — were more than likely acquainted with one of them.

Over time, Rusty has mended the broken relationship he had with Debra, concluding she hadn’t any involvement in her sister’s disappearance. He continues to reside in the town he grew up in and works as a local roofing contractor, all the while admirably seeking answers, closure, and ultimately justice on a daily basis. Only time can tell, but Rusty believes the case will be solved.