For a 15-year-old described by those who knew her as a “chronic runaway,” the road held a particular pull. Stephanie was said to be a “free-spirited girl”, a girl who had a peacock tattoo on the underside of her left arm. In the summer, she helped out at family-owned hardware store in New York.  One day in March of 1976, Stephanie told her mother she was heading to the Florida Keys with some friends. She walked out the front door and was never seen alive again.¹

The label “chronic runaway” has a bureaucratic coldness to it that can flatten a young life into a category. But it also explains, in part, the institutional failures that would follow Stephanie’s disappearance. The family later claimed that they reported her missing, but for some unknown reason, there is no record of that report. As a result, Stephanie’s name and description was never entered into any database where a comparison could have been possible.

This was not that unusual for the era. In the mid-1970s, there was no national missing persons infrastructure of the kind that exists today. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children would not be established until 1984. Runaway teenagers, in particular, were frequently treated by police as a social problem rather than a criminal one. They were seen as children who had chosen to leave, and would likely return on their own. A 15-year-old girl who had run away before, who had left voluntarily and told her mother where she was going, did not automatically trigger a search. The system, such as it was, had little mechanism to distinguish a teenager who had simply moved on from one who had come to harm.

The Florida Keys in the spring of 1976 were a natural destination for young drifters. Key West had developed a reputation as a gathering point for what locals called the “freak” population – the transient young people drifting to the island, many of them part of a fading but still visible counterculture. The Overseas Highway, US Route 1, stretched 113 miles from the Florida mainland to Key West, threading through a chain of coral islands. Along that road were rock pits, campgrounds, and informal gathering spots where young people congregated, far enough from authority to feel free.²

Hitchhiking had reached the height of its popularity during this period, seen by many young people as both a practical means of travel and a romanticised act of freedom. For a teenager like Stephanie, getting to the Keys with friends would have been straightforward – thumb out on the highway heading south, and within a few hours, the world of Boca Raton dissolved behind her.

Then on the 30^th of December, 1976, nine months after Stephanie was last seen, a camper from Lake Worth was in the area of Grassy Key when he had a strange encounter. He and a friend had recently stayed in the area. They told police they were approached by a “hippie-type” man who offered to show them a human skeleton for a quarter. The camper reported the location to the police.³

Detective Richard Roth was dispatched to investigate reports of human remains found on Grassy Key near an area called the “rock pit” at the 55.5 Mile Marker on US Route 1. The area was a known haunt for campers and party-goers. Detective Roth found the bones scattered in a heavily wooded area. The remains were partially covered by Spanish moss, leafy debris and vines, and were estimated to have been there for months.⁴

The scene yielded almost nothing in the way of identifying information. The only clothing found at the site was a black T-shirt. It was knotted in such a way that Detective Roth believed it had been tied around the victim’s head, perhaps as a blindfold. Hair was found tangled in the knot. On the T-shirt was a colourful depiction of a Tiffany lamp.

The bones were photographed in place and then collected. The medical examiner at the time, Dr. A. J. Fernandez, found no signs of violent death, and the cause of death was classified as unknown. Given the skeletal state of the remains and the passage of time, this was perhaps an inevitable conclusion – but it was one that Detective Roth never fully accepted. Remembering the knotted T-shirt, he said he always suspected foul play.⁵

Dental records were used to compare the body against law enforcement reports of missing women from across the country, but failed. With no identification forthcoming, the remains were placed in a cardboard box and stored at the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office in Key West. The unknown girl was estimated to have been between 17 and 19-years-old. The case went cold.

The cardboard box sat in a sheriff’s office in Key West for the better part of two decades. Periodically, the case would surface again when a family came forward believing the unidentified girl might be their own missing loved one. In November 2001, the mother of a girl who had gone missing in 1974 in the Keys became convinced the bones belonged to her daughter. At her insistence, detectives took DNA samples from the mother and tried to match them with DNA extracted from the bones found on Grassy Key. The tests failed.

This attempt at identification, however, prompted detectives to take a forward-looking step. The Grassy Key DNA test was entered into the FBI’s Mitochondrial DNA Missing Person Database, Unit II, in Quantico, Virginia, in the hopes that sometime in the future the database would help identify the victim. It was a small but significant act of institutional faith – an acknowledgment that the tools available in 2001 might not be the tools available in 2010, or 2020, and that the case deserved to remain open to those possibilities.

Meanwhile, the girl in the box remained nameless. Her family, if she had one, did not know where she was.

In 1997, twenty-one years after her sister’s disappearance, Kim Quinn of New York began making phone calls. Quinn, then 50-years-old, had spent decades living with the absence of her younger sister Stephanie. She had no proof of what had happened, only the silence that had settled over the family since 1976, and a gnawing need for answers. She later remarked: “I’ve even gone to psychics to try and see if she was alive or se was dead. Sometime I used to wonder if I would even know her if I bumped into her. Would I recognise her?”

Quinn was already living in New York, raising her own family when her youngest sister disappeared. She remembered: “I just didn’t think she would write off her whole entire family. That just wasn’t in her nature.”[/note] When Quinn began making inquiries, she discovered that because there was no official missing persons report in existence, her missing sister was not in the nationwide missing child database. The family had always believed they had reported Stephanie missing at the time. But whatever had happened – a miscommunication, a bureaucratic failure, a report that was taken informally and never formally logged – there was no record. Stephanie Sempell, who had been missing since 1976, effectively did not exist in any law enforcement system.

As a result of Quinn’s inquiries, Sempell’s data was finally entered into the system. It was a straightforward act that should have happened in 1976, and its delay had cost the investigation more than two decades. Once Stephanie’s name and description were in the database, the existing case files could begin to be checked against it.

Finally, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement asked the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children to look at the case. An “age enhancement” image was made and it appeared to be a match.

“Gerry Nance from the Center for Missing and Exploited Children called Detective James Norman in December 2003 and said he had a possible hit on the Grassy Key case. We already had the DNA from the bones entered in the FBI DNA database. At that point, the mother of Stephanie Sempell was contacted for a sample of her DNA for comparison,” recalled Detective Sergeant Patricia Dally, who headed up the Monroe Sheriff’s Office Homicide Division.

Jim Giumenta, the Cold Case detective for Palm Beach County, and FBI Agent Chuck Wilcox helped obtain the DNA from the mother. Dorothy Appel, Stephanie’s mother, was still alive  still waiting, after nearly three decades, for some word of what had happened to her daughter. She provided the sample. The analysis was conducted, and the result came back quickly.

The bones in the cardboard box belonged to Stephanie Sempell. She had been 15 years old when she died, not 17 to 19, as originally estimated. The years between her leaving home in March 1976 and the discovery of her remains in December of the same year remained, and remain, entirely unaccounted for.

The identification was made official in August 2004, when Sheriff Rick Roth made the announcement. “New technologies, better networking between law enforcement databases and a caring family have allowed us to finally identify this body as that of Stephanie Sempell,” he said in a prepared statement. “This investigation is still active, and now that we have an identification, we hope we can go on to find out why Stephanie was found dead on Grassy Key 28 years ago.”

Identification is not the same as resolution. Knowing who Stephanie was did not explain how she died, or at whose hands, or in what circumstances. The cause and manner of her death remain officially undetermined. The case is classified as a suspected and no suspect has ever been named. To date, no one who has been questioned in the case can definitively say who she was travelling with. Detectives would like to talk to those mysterious travelling companions. They are also hoping that friends may remember something significant.

According to one of Stephanie’s sisters, Karen, she had warned her sister about a male friend who she was heading to Key West with. She recalled: “I didn’t feel right about her going. I wouldn’t let im come in the house.” He has never been publicly identified.⁶ The “hippie-type” man who reportedly offered strangers a tour of her skeletal remains for a quarter  was never identified. Whether he was the person responsible for her death, a local eccentric who had stumbled across the body himself, or something else entirely, no one knows.

Detective Sergeant Dally said it plainly: “Somebody knows her and knows what happened to her back in 1976. We want that person, or those people, to call us. A young girl lost her life, and both she and her family deserve to have some type of explanation for that. We’d like to give it to them.”

Stephanie Sempell was interred at Boca Raton Municipal Cemetery and Mausoleum in Palm Beach County, finally given a resting place with a name. The Monroe County Sheriff’s Office Major Crimes Unit continues to accept tips on the case. Anyone with information is asked to call 305-289-2410.

She was 15 years old. She had her whole life ahead of her. Someone out there knows what happened.

They arrived at the park on July 2nd and set up camp roughly a quarter mile west of the Fall River Lodge. They weren’t alone—some family friends had joined them for the trip. Their campsite sat near the confluence of the Roaring and Fall Rivers, just below the natural landmark of Horseshoe Falls. It was a scenic location, surrounded by dense forest and the constant rush of mountain streams.

On the morning of July 3rd, the group woke up early. William went to a nearby stream to wash up, and Alfred came with him. Two of their friends, Oran Bronson and Walter Hansen, were also heading to the stream, about 500 feet upstream from where William and Alfred were. After finishing, William headed back to camp. Alfred told his father that he wanted to follow Oran and Walter instead and would return with them. William agreed and left him behind.

However, when Oran and Walter returned to camp shortly after, Alfred wasn’t with them. At first, it was assumed he may have wandered off and would turn up nearby. But when a search of the immediate area turned up nothing, concern grew quickly.

A search was launched almost immediately. Park rangers and volunteers combed the area, calling Alfred’s name and looking for any trace of him. Their efforts were concentrated around the meeting point of the Fall and Roaring Rivers, where Alfred had last been seen. Bloodhounds were brought in from the State Penitentiary in Cañon City. According to reports, the dogs repeatedly led their handlers to the riverbank, suggesting Alfred may have gone in that direction.⁷

The dogs eventually picked up a scent and followed it along the riverbank for about a mile and a half. They reached a bridge but appeared unsure if the trail continued across to the east side of the Roaring River. One of the dogs eventually followed a scent up the Lawn Lake Trail, prompting searchers to backtrack and expand their efforts in that direction.⁸

At the time, two leading theories emerged. One was that Alfred had fallen into the river and drowned. The area was home to a few black bears, so the other theory was that he had been attacked by one. Park superintendent David Canfield announced that an attempt would be made to divert the flow of the Roaring River to allow searchers to inspect the riverbed more closely.

On July 4th, park rangers constructed a makeshift dam using sandbags, rocks, and logs to slow the river’s flow. They searched the exposed riverbed thoroughly but found nothing. Below the falls were five beaver dams, which searchers noted would have likely trapped a small body. Additionally, workers from the Public Service Company of Colorado had placed a wire net across the Fall River. Despite these obstacles, no trace of Alfred was ever found in the water.

William and Snowdrop Beilhartz expressed doubt that their son had drowned. They believed he was still somewhere in the forest, possibly lost or taken. As a result, the search expanded into the dense woodlands surrounding the camp. For days, volunteers, park staff, and law enforcement continued to scour the terrain—but Alfred Beilhartz had vanished without a trace.⁹

As days passed with no sign of Alfred, hope began to dwindle. By the fifth day of the search, William offered a grim alternative to the prevailing theory that his son had drowned or been taken by wildlife: he believed Alfred may have been kidnapped.

That suspicion seemed to gain traction when the search team discovered a small but potentially significant clue—a gauze bandage found inside an abandoned cabin about a mile from where Alfred had last been seen. Alfred had been wearing a gauze bandage on his heel when he disappeared. His father pointed out that Alfred had always disliked bandages and often tore them off, suggesting the bandage may have been discarded after being taken, not lost during a fall or animal encounter. “It indicates that perhaps he didn’t fall into the river after all,” William commented to reporters.¹⁰

The idea that Alfred may have been abducted breathed new life into the investigation. Shortly after the bandage was found, a man named William Eells, visiting from Denver, came forward with a startling claim. He said he had seen a small boy who resembled Alfred high on the slopes of Mount Chapin, roughly six miles west of the campsite. It was a remote and rugged area, far from where the child had vanished. Park Superintendent David Canfield said the sighting was being investigated, but expressed scepticism—he found it hard to believe that a four-year-old boy could traverse such steep and wild terrain on his own.¹¹

While that lead was still being pursued, another tip came in from a woman in western Nebraska. She had seen a newspaper photograph of Alfred and believed she had spotted the boy walking alongside a man on a highway. Her account was detailed and confident enough to warrant further investigation, but, like the sighting near Mount Chapin, it ultimately led nowhere.¹²

By July 13th, ten days after Alfred disappeared, authorities announced that the official search was being called off. The Civilian Conservation Corps, which had been assisting park rangers and volunteers, was dismissed. Rangers were instructed to remain vigilant and monitor the Roaring and Fall Rivers in case the boy’s body appeared—but the coordinated search effort was over.¹³

Devastated, the Beilhartz family packed up and returned to Denver, their youngest son still missing and no clear answers to bring closure. They refused to accept the conclusion that Alfred had drowned. In their hearts, they believed something more sinister had happened.

Then, in late November, their fears were seemingly validated in the most cruel fashion. A ransom note arrived at the Beilhartz home. It was handwritten and crude, and it demanded $500 for Alfred’s return. The note read:

“Sorry for your son. We went west. Out of money. The boy doesn’t take to us. We will return your son if you will leave $500 20 feet from 32nd and Syracuse, one block from your house, and the note. We will return your son within 24 hours.”

The family immediately contacted the Denver Police Department. Officers staked out the location described in the note, hoping to catch the person responsible. Before long, they arrested a man and a woman, but it quickly became clear they were not connected to Alfred’s disappearance. Detective Captain O.A. Carter described them as extortionists—opportunists who had seen the case in the news and tried to exploit the family’s desperation for financial gain.

They had no knowledge of Alfred, and their scheme brought no new answers.¹⁴

Despite the police dismissing the ransom note as a hoax, William Beilhartz remained unconvinced. Determined to explore every possibility, he placed an advertisement in the local newspaper, expressing his willingness to mortgage their home to raise the $500 demanded. He pleaded for proof that the sender had Alfred, but none was ever provided.¹⁵

As the agonizing days turned into weeks, the weight of uncertainty pressed even harder on the family. Christmas came—and with it, a bittersweet reminder of what should have been a time of joy. William and Snowdrop had clung to hope long enough to buy Alfred Christmas gifts—a model train, a bright red wagon, and a small shovel—each gift lovingly wrapped and waiting under the tree. But as Christmas passed and Alfred didn’t come home.

“I won’t believe Alfred is dead until I see his body,” William insisted. “We would have found something—a scrap of clothing, a toy. And there has been nothing, absolutely nothing.” Even as despair crept in, William and Snowdrop refused to surrender to the finality of death. They maintained a desperate conviction that Alfred had been abducted by someone who, against all odds, had grown attached to the little boy and taken him to a distant city. “Alfred will come back,” William declared, his voice carrying the stubborn hope of a father who could not imagine any other fate. “He was always satisfied here. This is his real home.”¹⁶

But Alfred never came home.

Both Snowdrop and William went to their graves without ever knowing what happened to their youngest son. Snowdrop passed away in 1954 and was laid to rest in Fairmount Cemetery in Denver, Colorado. William followed her 12 years later, buried in the same family plot—just a short walk from the house on Quebec Street where they had once raised their children and dreamed of the future.

Their headstones sit quietly among the others, weathered by time, but still bearing the Beilhartz name. There is no marker for Alfred—no date of death, no final resting place. Just a question that continues to echo through the Rocky Mountains: What happened to Alfred Beilhartz?

More than eight decades have passed since that summer morning in 1938, and the forests around Fall River have grown thicker, the trails more worn. Campers still come and go, many unaware of the little boy who vanished without a trace. His case remains one of the oldest unsolved disappearances in the history of Rocky Mountain National Park.

On the night of August 13, 1978, 16-year-old Barbara Nantais and her 17-year-old boyfriend, Jim Ault, arrived at the beach for a night under the stars. Barbara was known for her beauty and spirited nature—a high school sophomore who had earned her spot on the varsity cheerleading squad, something almost unheard of at that level.

Her friend, Sue, recalled: “They were really good together. They loved each other. They had so much fun together, and you could see it. Barbara, she was outspoken, very popular, funny. Jim, great personality. He was the life of the party. And my sister was like that, too.”¹⁷

Barbara had been dating Jim for nine months, and that summer night, they met up with friends Richard Selga and Cynthia Ancog. The plan had been to surf, but the waves didn’t cooperate. Instead, they joined a small group gathered around a bonfire, sipping alcohol.

As the night wore on and the fire began to die down, Barbara and Jim decided to sleep on the beach. They laid their sleeping bags side by side, out in the open. Their friends, looking for more comfort, chose to sleep in a nearby car.¹⁸

By morning, everything had changed.

At around 6AM, Jim Ault awoke trembling violently. Disoriented and weak, he tried to sit up but collapsed back to the sand, overtaken by dizziness. It wasn’t until he reached out beside him that he realized something was wrong—Barbara was gone. Their sleeping bags were gone too.

Jim, unaware of the full extent of his injuries, managed to rise and stumble to the car where Richard and Cynthia were still asleep. He was covered in blood, his face swollen and bruised beyond recognition. “What the hell happened?” Richard shouted. Jim could barely speak, but he managed to force out two words before collapsing: “Find Barb.”¹⁹

Panic set in. As Cynthia ran to alert police, Richard began searching for Barbara, joined by early morning passersby. Near the base of a bluff, not far from the lifeguard tower, they spotted something out of place in the sand. It was a body—motionless and blood-soaked. They rushed over, but the sight that greeted them was too gruesome to comprehend.

Barbara Nantais had been raped, strangled, and beaten. She was nude and spread eagle on the sand with her limp head propped up by a log. Her skull had been fractured and wet sand had been stuffed inside her mouth. One of her breasts had been savagely cut from her body. Richard covered Barbara with the blood-stained nylon sleeping bags that were left close to her body and ran to the parking lot screaming for help.²⁰

Jim was rushed to Scripps Hospital in critical condition. Doctors discovered severe head trauma—he had been bludgeoned with rocks and burning logs—and he underwent emergency brain surgery. He would remain in a coma for months. It wasn’t until much later, after Barbara’s funeral, that he learned she had died that night. Jim told detectives he couldn’t remember anything about what had happened after he and Barbara had laid down to sleep.²¹

Police cordoned off the area with yellow crime scene tape, combing the sand for any clue—any trace of the person responsible. But no murder weapon was found, and no suspect emerged. Captain Wes Allen of the San Diego Police Department addressed the media sombrely: they had “an awful lot of work to do.” They pleaded with the public—anyone who had been at Torrey Pines that night—to come forward. But the beach had been crowded. The leads were many, and yet none panned out.²²

Gradually the days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and months turned to years and the case went cold. Then, almost exactly six years later, the peace at Torrey Pines was disturbed once more.

On the night of August 23, 1984, 14-year-old Claire Hough slipped out of her grandparents’ home. She was visiting from Rhode Island and had often taken solitary walks along the beach during her stay. This night would be her last.²³

The next morning, August 24, joggers and beachgoers stumbled upon a horrific sight in the sand. Claire’s body had been left near the shoreline. She had been strangled, beaten, and stabbed. Just like Barbara, one of her breasts had been severed from her body. The parallels were impossible to ignore—the same beach, the same brutal injuries, the same violation. Although the similarities were undeniable, police were unable to definitively link the two cases. For decades, both murders would remain hauntingly unresolved.

Then, in 2013, advancements in DNA technology offered a glimmer of hope. The next year, a break came in Claire’s case. DNA evidence tied two men to her murder: Ronald Clyde Tatro and Kevin Charles Brown. Tatro, who died in a boating accident in 2011, had a history of violence against women and had served prison time for kidnapping and rape. Brown, a criminalist in the San Diego Police Department’s own crime lab at the time of Claire’s murder, was notified he was under investigation. In October 2014, before charges could be filed, he took his own life.²⁴

Before Brown took his own life, he told detectives he didn’t know Claire or Tatro. However, it was later revealed that his DNA had been found in the form of sperm on a vaginal swab. As for Tatro, his DNA was discovered on blood found on Claire’s clothing and I the broken zipper of her jeans. Brown claimed to detectives his DNA must have gotten there as a result of lab cross-contamination, but Brown had never handled any evidence in the case.²⁵

Brown’s widow sued the department in 2015 claiming that detectives had botched the case and driven her husband to suicide. She argued that her husband’s DNA showed up in the vaginal swab because of cross-contamination. She contended that it was common practice at the time for a laboratory worker to use his own semen and blood testing of samples. The lawsuit was heard in court and Brown’s widow, Rebecca, was awarded $6 million.

Investigators ultimately concluded that Claire’s murder was not connected to Barbara Nantais’—a ruling that left more questions than answers. Barbara’s killer has never been found.

For the families of the victims, the years have done little to dull the pain. Claire’s father, Samuel Hough, once said: “In a way, it doesn’t make any difference who killed her. She’s dead and there’s nothing we can do about that. The important thing for us is what she was and what she became—the fact that she was so positive, so rich, at the time she died.”²⁶

Inside the bustling complex, children darted between the snack bar and arcade machines, their faces glowing with excitement under the colourful, flickering lights. It was the kind of place where parents felt safe letting their kids roam just a little bit.

Among the crowd that evening was 23-year-old Theresa English, who had brought her two-year-old daughter, Teekah Lewis, for a night out with family. With them were Teekah’s uncles and a few close friends, all enjoying the relaxed, lively atmosphere. Theresa recalled: “It was a pretty good crowd and there was other kids there.”

At about 10:30PM, as the adults bowled, Teekah’s gaze wandered to the flashing lights of the arcade nearby. One machine in particular, a brightly lit racing game called Cruis’n World, caught her attention. It sat near a heavy side door that opened directly onto the large, dimly lit parking lot.

Theresa stood beside Teekah as she rode on the arcade game but then it was her turn to bowl. She told her brother and boyfriend to watch Teekah as she took her turn. When she was finished, she turned over to the arcade and saw that Teekah was gone. Panic surged in her chest. Theresa rushed to the machine, calling her daughter’s name.  “I turned away for less than a minute,” Theresa would later say. “Someone had to pick her up and run out the door. She’s a mommy’s girl. She wouldn’t wander off.”²⁷

Theresa’s boyfriend, Fred Biggs, and other family members quickly joined in the search. An off-duty Tacoma police officer working security at the bowling alley leapt into action. Together, they scoured every inch of the building—under tables, behind arcade machines, even inside bathroom stalls. But Teekah had vanished.

Within the hour, uniformed police officers arrived and the search expanded beyond the bowling alley walls. Officers cordoned off the parking lot and checked every vehicle before patrons were allowed to leave. They explored every possibility, including that Teekah had simply wandered outside, but the more they searched, the clearer it became: this wasn’t a case of a lost toddler. This was an abduction.

As darkness settled over Tacoma, the response swelled. More than 200 officers and volunteers from Tacoma Police and the Pierce County Sheriff’s Department flooded the area. Bloodhounds and German shepherds combed the surroundings. A police helicopter hovered above with heat-sensing technology, scanning for any sign of a small child hiding—or being hidden—in the night.

The hours passed. The night gave way to a bleak morning, and still, there was no sign of Teekah. “If she was in the search area, we believe we would have found her,” Lt. Jim Howatson said sombrely the next day.

There was a glimmer of hope when the sniffer dogs picked up a scent. They led trackers to a brushy area across Center Street from the bowing alley. When the area was searched, detectives came across a ball of men’s clothing but nobody ever came forward to identify the clothing or admit that it was theirs.²⁸

Investigators turned their focus toward those closest to Teekah. Her father was quickly ruled out; he was serving time on McNeil Island and had no opportunity to be involved. They scoured lists of local sex offenders, knocking on doors, asking questions, but no one knew anything.²⁹

From the very beginning of the search for Teeka Lewis, there was one woman who stood out—someone whose behaviour that night raised immediate red flags.

She was a middle-aged woman, visibly intoxicated, seated with three male companions not far from where Theresa and her family were bowling. Despite her slurred speech and unsteady posture, she appeared unusually fixated on the children with the group. At one point, she turned to Teeka’s uncle and asked if she could hold his infant son. The family, sensing her inebriation, politely declined—but she persisted, even trying to pick the baby up herself.

The moment passed, shrugged off as drunken overfriendliness. But after Teeka disappeared, the same woman resurfaced—this time in the parking lot. Fred Biggs, Teeka’s stepfather, was in a frenzy, darting between rows of cars with Teeka’s 10-month-old sister, Tamika, in his arms. His voice cracked as he called out Teeka’s name again and again, hoping for an answer that never came. That’s when the woman approached him, seemingly concerned.

She offered to help and said she would keep the baby warm in her car. Overwhelmed with panic and desperate to continue the search for Teeka, Fred agreed. He handed over Tamika and rushed off into the night, unaware of the woman’s earlier interaction with the family.

It wasn’t long before Theresa caught sight of something that made her blood run cold—her baby daughter, Tamika, buckled into the backseat of a car that was beginning to pull away. The woman was behind the wheel. “I said, ‘You got my daughter.’ She said, ‘This ain’t your baby,’” Theresa later recalled.

She immediately flagged down officers, who intervened and removed Tamika from the vehicle. The woman was placed in the back of a patrol car for questioning. But once inside, her erratic behaviour escalated—she attempted to strangle herself with the seatbelt, prompting officers to rush her to a hospital for evaluation and to sober up.

Detectives could never find any evidence that she was involved in Teekah’s disappearance. One detective commented: “Her mental health deteriorated so bad that it’s impossible to get anything from her. There’s no questioning her, there’s no giving her a polygraph, she’s that gone.”

As January gave way to February, hope remained—but it was beginning to fray at the edges.

Weeks passed with no sign of little Teeka Lewis. Her face had become familiar across the city: on posters taped to storefront windows, in news broadcasts, and now emblazoned on the sides of Pierce Transit buses, a reminder of the child who vanished just feet away from her mother in a place that once felt safe. In an effort to spark new leads, the FBI stepped in. On February 26th, they announced a $26,000 reward for any information that could lead to Teeka’s recovery.

“It is our hope that someone will come forward,” said Tacoma Police spokesman Jim Mattheis. “Money is a great motivator.”³⁰ But despite this new push, detectives found themselves chasing shadows.

By that point, more than 300 individuals had been interviewed, and authorities had combed through nearly 700 tips from across the region. Some were vague hunches, others wild speculation—but all led nowhere.

Then came a disturbing report from the same night Teeka vanished. While chaos unfolded at New Frontier Lanes, another unsettling incident occurred just a few miles away. In a nearby park, a man in a Pontiac Grand Am had attempted to abduct children. Witnesses saw him flee the scene in the same car, his tires screeching as he disappeared into the night.

It was chilling enough on its own—but then a witness came forward to report that they had seen a vehicle matching that description speeding out of the bowling alley parking lot around the same time Teeka went missing.³¹ The coincidence was impossible to ignore.

Investigators began to focus in on the vehicle, a mid-90s model Pontiac Grand Am—dark in colour, possibly maroon or burgundy. Over the years, it would become a focal point of the case. Flyers featured the car. Press releases mentioned it. People were asked to recall anything about that make or model from that night. But the vehicle was never located, and no concrete lead ever materialized from it.

Still, there was one thread that stood out to Sgt. Pam Dier. In her relentless re-examination of the case, she dug through every 911 call made the night Teeka disappeared, hoping something—anything—had been missed. And there, buried in the transcripts, was a curious call from a distressed mother.

She had phoned dispatch because of a strange conversation with her son, a man in his 40s. He had told her he was thinking about leaving town, and then asked a haunting question: “Would you leave with me?” His words, coupled with the timing, unnerved her.

Police were dispatched to conduct a welfare check. What they found was a man with a troubling history—specifically, a sexual history that raised red flags. He became what detectives called “a suspect of sorts.” His background was scrutinized, his movements that night analysed.

A witness who had been at the bowling alley that night came forward and said that the man matched the description of someone they saw inside the premises—walking hand-in-hand with a little girl who looked like Teekah. Theresa Lewis remembered him too. When detectives showed her his photograph, the recognition hit her like a wave. “When they showed me the picture, all I could do is cry,” she said. “I remembered the guy from the bowling alley, and if that’s the case, there’s no way Teekah is here right now.”³²

The revelation was chilling. Had the man who took Teekah been right there in plain sight all along?

Detectives attempted to revisit the lead. Roughly a month after he was first reinterviewed, they returned to speak with him again—but it was too late. He was dead.

The man, described as having a history of serious mental illness, remains a person of interest. But with his death, any secrets he may have held died with him. Investigators have never confirmed whether he was ever formally linked to Teekah’s disappearance. But for her mother, the connection felt unmistakable.

It has now been over 26 years since Teekah Lewis disappeared from that busy South Tacoma bowling alley—a moment that changed the course of her family’s life forever. The once vibrant 2-year-old with bright eyes and soft curls would be nearly 30 years old today.

Her mother, Theresa, has become a fierce and unwavering advocate for her daughter and for other missing children. Year after year, she’s organized vigils, met with investigators, and pleaded with the public to come forward with any information.

Speaking to Dateline, she said: “I’m fighting for mine. I will do anything to find Teekah. Anything,” she said. “I don’t wish this on any parent. And I tell parents, ‘Keep an eye on your child because it only takes a second for your child to come up missing.’”³³

“This guy came in earlier,” Kelly explained during the call. “He was kind of dressed improperly, but I kind of ignored him. I think it was that guy because he drove through the parking lot a few seconds before I got the call. Could you, you know, have somebody kinda keep an eye out on me?”³⁵ Kelly’s mother, Rachel, later said of the call: “She sounds nervous, but not panicky nervous.”

Kelly believed the man, whose behaviour had unsettled her, might have been the caller. Moments after she hung up, she made another call to the police. This time, her voice carried a heightened urgency. The same man had returned, she reported, and he was driving a silver-grey car.

Officers immediately responded to Kelly’s calls and arrived at the Imperial gas station within two minutes of the second call. When they got there, however, Kelly was gone.

The service station was eerily quiet, with no signs of struggle or disturbance. Her purse and keys were left untouched—the keys still sitting in the office cash register. The till had not been emptied, ruling out robbery as a motive, and the magazine Kelly had been reading lay undisturbed on the counter, as if she had simply stepped away for a moment.

The scene was baffling. Kelly’s sudden disappearance seemed to have happened in an instant, without anyone noticing. Her sister, Rose Parnell, later described the unsettling nature of the aftermath: “It looked like somebody, pardon the expression, just went to the toilet.”

The search for Kelly began almost immediately. Police announced that they were looking for the man Kelly had described, whom they believed was responsible for her abduction. He was described as being approximately 25 years old, 5’10” tall, weighing about 150 pounds, with shoulder-length blonde hair. He had been driving a silver, late-model car, possibly a Ford.

Kelly’s husband, Dale Dove, was devastated but determined to do something. Speaking to The Daily News Leader, he described driving around the area in search of his wife, though he knew the odds were slim. “I know it’s a wild goose chase,” he admitted, “but it’s better than sitting around,” he said.³⁶

Kelly’s sister Debbie Parnell, who also worked at the service station, revealed that the women had dealt with inappropriate and obscene behaviour during their night shifts on multiple occasions. “We get those all the time,” she said. But nothing had ever escalated to this extent. The family was desperate for answers and left no stone unturned. Debbie mentioned they had even used a four-wheel-drive vehicle to scour the surrounding mountains for any trace of Kelly.³⁷

Despite their efforts, days turned to weeks without any leads. Lt. Hubert Myers told reporters that police had learned “nothing, absolutely nothing” that could help locate Kelly. On June 29, in an attempt to encourage tips from the public, an anonymous individual offered a $1,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Kelly’s abductor.³⁸ Unfortunately, however, nobody could offer any further insights.

The community remained on edge, disturbed by the brazen nature of Kelly’s abduction and the lack of evidence or witnesses. Police speculated that the same man may have visited another convenience store about half an hour before Kelly disappeared, raising concerns that he had been scoping out potential victims. According to a clerk at a Hop-In convenience store, a man driving a similar vehicle drove by three times slowly at about 2AM. She said that a man driving the same vehicle had exposed himself to a female employee about two weeks earlier.

While police initially believed that the man who exposed himself at the gas station was the same individual who abducted Kelly Dove, their perspective began to shift by late July 1982. Lt. Hubert Myers offered a nuanced take, explaining why the theory might not align with the evidence. “It doesn’t fit the pattern,” he stated. “An exhibitor wants to be seen and not caught. An obscene caller wants to be heard and not caught. The abductor doesn’t fit either of those descriptions.” Myers also noted that Kelly’s disappearance was unprecedented in the area: “We’ve had women abducted and raped and let loose, but never anything like this.”³⁹

By this point in the investigation, police had received an overwhelming 500 to 600 tips from individuals who believed they had seen Kelly or encountered someone who had exposed themselves. Detectives diligently followed up on each lead, but every single one proved to be a dead end. Frustrated but undeterred, detectives even turned to unconventional methods in their search for answers.

In a move that marked a first for the Harrisonburg police, they consulted a psychic. The psychic claimed to see visions of roads, a residence, and a burial site—details that matched areas within Rockingham County. She further suggested that the abductor drove a refrigerated truck and might have recently injured his knee. While some of the descriptions led detectives to specific areas for searches, they yielded no new evidence.⁴⁰

Despite the passage of time, investigators clung to hope. Lt. Myers expressed cautious optimism, stating, “We will find her sooner or later. We’re hoping she’s alive, but as every day goes by it’s a strike against us.”⁴¹

One alternative theory briefly considered by detectives was that Kelly had left voluntarily, but her family firmly rejected this idea. Her husband, Dale Dove, was adamant that Kelly would never abandon her life and responsibilities. “There’s no way she would have gone off on her own,” he said. “Not with the money and cigarettes there and the magazine open—and her little girl.” Dale believed that the abductor must have been armed to have overpowered Kelly, describing her as “a right smart scrapper” who wouldn’t have entered a vehicle willingly.

Kelly’s mother also weighed in, voicing her heartbreak and frustration. After listening to Kelly’s final call to police, she believed the abductor had already entered the store before Kelly hung up. She criticized the initial police response, stating, “I felt like they should have been more concerned about her and gone on the first call instead of waiting for the second one. If they had, she would have been saved.”

As weeks turned into months and months into years, hope began to dwindle. In 1995, more than a decade after Kelly’s disappearance, her sister Elaine reflected on the enduring pain of uncertainty. “You don’t get your hopes up,” she admitted. “At first, we did. But after such a long time, you don’t.” The family had come to accept the likelihood that Kelly was no longer alive.

Even as time marched on, Harrisonburg police continued to pursue leads. Each year, they followed up on two or three reports of unidentified bodies across the United States, comparing dental records in the faint hope of finding Kelly. Yet none of these efforts ever bore fruit.⁴²

In 2007, more than 25 years after Kelly Dove’s disappearance, Lt. Kurt Boshart, spokesperson for the Harrisonburg Police Department, reaffirmed that her case remained open, though classified as cold. “Kelly is still a missing person,” he stated, underscoring the department’s commitment to keeping her file active despite the lack of recent developments.

Kelly’s sister, Elaine, expressed deep frustration with what she perceived as a lack of progress. “I feel like they’ve forgotten her,” she said. “I know they’ve got other cases, but I feel like her file has been put back in a box to collect dust.”

The family also shared a lingering grievance about the handling of the investigation in the critical hours following Kelly’s disappearance. When they arrived at the scene around 4AM on June 18, 1982, they were shocked to find that police had not cordoned off the area. Customers had reportedly wandered in, unsure whether the store was open or closed. Such oversights fuelled the family’s sense that crucial evidence might have been lost or contaminated in those early hours.⁴³

Despite decades of heartbreak and unanswered questions, Kelly’s family has never stopped seeking justice. They continue to advocate for public attention to her case, hoping someone might come forward with the key piece of information needed to solve the mystery.

Anyone with information about Kelly Dove’s case is encouraged to contact Detective Leslie Wetherell at 540-432-7788 or via email at Leslie.Wetherell@harrisonburgva.gov. Anonymous tips can also be submitted through Crime Solvers at 540-574-5050.

Eloise Worledge was the first child of Lindsay and Patricia Worledge, born on October 8, 1967. She was followed by her sister, Anna, two years later, and then her younger brother, Blake, in 1971. The young family lived in a modest four-bedroom weatherboard home on Scott Street in Beaumaris, Victoria, just a short 500-meter walk from Beaumaris Beach. Their home sat in a quiet, suburban neighborhood typical of Australia in the 1970s, offering the kind of tranquil surroundings ideal for raising a young family. The Worledges had settled into what many would consider an idyllic life—close to schools, parks, and local shops—providing the perfect environment for their children to grow.

But that all changed on the 13^th of January, 1976.

At around 7:30AM that morning, Lindsay and Patricia were awoken by their four-year-old son, Blake, who came into their bedroom and said that Eloise was missing. He had gone to wake his sister, only to find her bed empty. Panic surged through the house as Lindsay and Patricia rushed to Eloise’s room. They found that her bed had clearly been slept in but Eloise was nowhere to be found. The window of her bedroom had been tampered with – the wire fly-screen had been cut away and rolled upward, and the window was fully open.

Despite the proximity of their bedroom to Eloise’s, they hadn’t heard a single unusual noise during the night. The last time they had seen their daughter was the night before. Patricia recalled putting her to bed at around 10:30PM.“I went out for a short while. Then I kissed her again when I came home about 11PM,” she said.⁴⁴

That evening, Lindsay addressed the media, appealing for any information that could lead to his daughter’s safe return. “She would not even go to the shopping centre by herself,” he said. His greatest worry was that some “deranged” person had taken her, a theory that quickly became central to the investigation. One senior detective commented on the likely knowledge the abductor had of the family, saying, “It is very probable that the abductor would have known the family as he knew which window to go to.”

Eloise’s disappearance sent shockwaves through the tight-knit community of Beaumaris, and a national search effort was launched. Inspector Murray Burgess appealed to the public for information, stating: “Someone must know something about what has happened to this girl.”⁴⁵ The window was thoroughly examined, but it was reported that no fingerprints or footprints could be found. Moreover, detectives believed that the hole was too small for a man to have climbed through without disturbing anybody.⁴⁶

It wasn’t long before a tip came in from neighbours of the family; multiple people reported there had been intruders on their properties in the nights leading up to Eloise’s disappearance. Some neighbours also reported two door-to-door book salesmen in the neighbourhood. Detectives tracked them down, and eliminated them as persons of interest.

The search pressed on, and a team of homicide detectives joined in on the search. Thee search extended to cliff-top scrubland and golf courses in the area, but nothing of interest could be found. Detectives also made sure to search all of the unoccupied homes in the area, working on the theory that Eloise had been taken and then left alive somewhere. But no trace of Eloise was found. Detective Chief Inspector Harry Norton said on the 16^th of January: “It is felt that the child is being cared for. We still can’t say there’s any alternative to her being removed by someone who knew her. There is no apparent criminal motive.”⁴⁷

Toward the end of the month, Eloise’s parents’ received a $10,000 ransom demand. A man had called their home and snarled: “I have your baby. I have your baby. I want $10,000” and then he hung up. Detectives ruled it out as a hoax; they believed that if it was genuine, there would have been a follow up call. Moreover, a teenage boy named Eric Gimbert told detectives he believed he overheard a man making the call from the foyer at Mercy Hospital. .⁴⁸

As the days turned into weeks after Eloise’s disappearance, the initial flurry of hope began to fade. Over 300 detectives and police officers had worked tirelessly on the case, but by early February, authorities announced that not a single substantial lead had been uncovered. With no breakthroughs, the search efforts were scaled back to just eight detectives tasked with processing any tips that came in from the public .⁴⁹

That same week, however, a glimmer of hope emerged. Detectives began following a new lead after a neighbour reported seeing a green 1966 Holden station wagon parked near the Worledge home on the night Eloise disappeared . The lead was promising, and one of Australia’s top criminologists, David Biles, even stepped in to offer his expertise on the case. Yet, despite this renewed push, time continued to pass, and the months began to stretch on. The excitement around the new lead quickly waned, and the investigation hit another dead end. By September, the focus of the search shifted from rescuing a missing child to recovering a body. ⁵⁰ That same week, one of Australia’s top criminologists, David Biles, stepped in to offer his assistance in the case.

Despite this grim shift, Patricia Worledge remained resolute in her hope. She refused to believe her daughter was dead. “I don’t believe Ella’s dead and will go on believing she’s alive until it’s proved otherwise,” Patricia stated, maintaining that Eloise could be far from home, perhaps even overseas, living a life they could not yet fathom. “She’s quite happy,” Patricia suggested, clinging to the possibility that her daughter was safe somewhere, just out of reach .

Detective Chief Inspector Albert Homburg, who led the renewed search efforts, confirmed that detectives were still attempting to trace the green Holden station wagon. It remained the only vehicle near the Worledge home on the night of Eloise’s disappearance that had not yet been accounted for. He also revealed that investigators were looking for a man who had been spotted around Beaumaris in the days before Eloise vanished. Described as a balding, elderly man with glasses, he had reportedly been seen in the company of young girls near the local shopping center.⁵¹

The renewed search for Eloise Worledge, tragically, turned up no new leads. Before the family knew it, three long years had passed since the eight-year-old’s disappearance. As the months turned into years, the case remained cold. By 1982, detectives reported that they still received about six calls a year related to Eloise’s case, but none ever led to a breakthrough.⁵²

Years later, Eloise’s brother, Blake, shared a haunting recollection from that night. He said he had heard “robbers” taking his sister, but fear of being abducted himself kept him silent. Tragically, Blake’s life was cut short when he died in a car accident in August 1997 at just 26 years old.⁵³

Over the years, numerous theories have emerged about Eloise’s disappearance. One theory suggests that a child predator or someone known to the family took her. The sighting of a green Holden station wagon outside the Worledge home that night has fuelled speculation that the driver may have abducted Eloise. One neighbour even reported hearing a child cry out and the sound of a car door slamming shut around 2 AM, but the lead never yielded any concrete evidence.⁵⁴

A more troubling theory implicated Eloise’s own father, Lindsay, in her disappearance. Rumours circulated that Eloise wasn’t his biological daughter, and detectives discovered that both Lindsay and Patricia had been involved in extramarital affairs around the time of her disappearance. Lindsay had also been struggling with depression, particularly over the impending separation from Patricia.⁵⁵  

During a reinvestigation in 2002, Eloise Worledge’s mother, Patricia, shared a chilling belief with detectives: she suspected her estranged husband, Lindsay, of being involved in their daughter’s disappearance. She claimed that Lindsay’s involvement could have been a twisted attempt to prolong their failing marriage and to spite her. Lindsay, however, always denied having any role in Eloise’s abduction. Despite these suspicions, a polygraph test administered to Lindsay came back inconclusive.

The timing of Eloise’s disappearance only added to the suspicion. On the day Eloise was found missing, Lindsay had been scheduled to move out of the family home. The night before, he had been drinking, but, in a deviation from his usual behaviour, he told Patricia that he had checked on the children at 11:40PM before going to bed. According to Patricia, the passage light, which was always left on for the children until the last parent went to bed, remained on that night—an unusual oversight on Lindsay’s part. ⁵⁶

Forensic evidence discovered later by detectives raised even more questions. Experts concluded that the wire screen on Eloise’s window had most likely been cut from the inside, not the outside as originally thought. The cut had been made at a height of 195 centimetres, and the dust and cobwebs around the window had remained undisturbed, making an outside break-in seem unlikely. Furthermore, traces of tan bark from the garden were found inside Eloise’s bedroom. These findings complicated the abduction theory, suggesting that someone inside the home may have been involved.

A coroner’s inquest in 2003 brought to light even more unsettling revelations. Detectives had uncovered links between Eloise’s family and two local child molesters—one worked at a shop frequented by the family, while the other had ties to a Beaumaris drama group that the Worledge family visited. Despite these suspicious connections, no concrete evidence tied either individual to Eloise’s disappearance.⁵⁷

Ultimately, Coroner Frank Hender was unable to determine who was responsible for Eloise’s presumed death. He ruled that her disappearance and presumed death remained suspicious but could not conclusively implicate any specific person, including her parents or the local sex offenders. The mystery of Eloise’s fate, shrouded in uncertainty and unanswered questions, endures to this day.⁵⁸

Police responded to the family’s light-green ranch-style home in the northeast side of the city, and took statements from Lisa’s parents. According to her mother, Deborah Bradley, she had last seen Lisa when she put her to bed the night beforehand at 10:40PM when she put her into her crib.

Lisa’s father, Jeremy, told police he had come home from his late night shift as an electrician at about 4AM, shortly before he reported Lisa missing. As he entered the home, something immediately struck him as odd. Most of the lights were switched on, a window was open, and the front door was unlocked. After discovering that Lisa was missing, he also discovered that several cell phones were also missing.

Deborah later said: “They took her and took all of our phones so we couldn’t call anybody.” According to Jeremy and Deborah, it was three cell phones that had been stolen. Deborah recalled: “One wasn’t even working and was sitting up there next to the other ones. I was reprogramming all the numbers and all three of them were gone.”⁵⁹

By sunrise, more than 100 police officers had descended on the family home to begin in their search for Lisa. They scoured the deep woods behind her home, but there was no sign of Lisa or any evidence that could indicate what had happened to her. One theory that detectives considered almost immediately was that somebody had crept into the window and had taken Lisa. According to Capt. Steve Young: “Originally there was a window on the front of the house that appeared to be tampered with, that’s something they were looking at, but we’re not really sure if that’s the entry point or not.”⁶⁰

As the search continued, missing person reports were drafted up and printed. These described Lisa as standing at 30 inches tall and weighing between 26 and 30 pounds. She had blue eyes and blonde hair, and had two bottom teeth. When she went to bed the night before, she was dressed in purple shorts and a purple shirt with white kittens on it. The community came out in droves to help in the search for Lisa, even holding a vigil the night after she vanished.⁶¹

Lisa’s disappearance dominated the local headlines, and it wasn’t long before a tip came in that appeared to be lucrative. According to a woman who lived in the same neighbourhood as the Irwin family, she had seen a man overnight carrying a baby up the street. While this tip was being investigated, another tip came in. According to a caller, they had seen a couple travelling with a baby who looked similar to Lisa. They were a middle-aged white couple driving an older model SUV at the Love’s Travel Stop at the intersection of Interstate 29 and U.S. Highway 169.⁶²

Lisa’s parents cooperated with detectives, and they appeared on national television to plead for their daughter’s safe return. They firmly believed that somebody had entered their home that night and had taken their daughter. “We just want out baby back. Please bring her home,” pleaded Deborah. Jeremy begged that if anybody knew anything, “even the smallest bit of information” to reach out to detectives.⁶³

However, in a bizarre twist, shortly after their appearance on television, Captain Steve Young announced that Deborah and Jeremy had stopped cooperating with them. “They live in the house. They intimately have information about what’s going on,” he said.⁶⁴ Deborah and Jeremy responded by accusing the police of suspecting them in their daughter’s disappearance.

Indeed, the police had become suspicious of the couple’s account, and accused Deborah of failing a polygraph examination. They refused to show her the results, and when Jeremy offered to take one, he was told it wouldn’t be “necessary.” This led to tension between the police and the couple.

It had become apparent that police were looking at Deborah in particular of being involved in her daughter’s disappearance, since Jeremy had the alibi of being at work. He commented: “The main problem I think that we’re facing is that everybody else has an alibi. I was at work. I’ve been cleared.”⁶⁵

The family’s home had already been searched, but on the 19^th of October, detectives returned with a cadaver dog. It indicated a positive hit for the scent of a deceased human in an area of the floor in Deborah’s bedroom, close to the bed. Cadaver dogs are trained to detect the smell of human decomposition, but Joe Tacopina, who had been hired to represent Deborah and Jeremy commented: “”There’s really no scenario where this baby, God forbid she was dead, would have decomposed in that short a period of time.”⁶⁶

During the search, dirt in the garden area behind the home had recently been disturbed or overturned. When the area was dug up, however, nothing of interest was discovered. Detectives removed several items from the home, including a comforter, purple shorts, a Disney shirt, rolls of tape and a tape dispenser.

By this point in the investigation, a $100,000 reward was offered for the return of Lisa. It had come from an anonymous donor. The search still continued, and detectives followed whatever leads came in, although it was apparent they were suspicious of Deborah. One tip came from a man who had found a backpack containing diapers and baby wipes near a vacant home in Northland. However, Capt. Young said that the diapers had been there for some time.⁶⁷

While Deborah had first of all told detectives she last saw Lisa at 10:40PM, she later changed her account. She admitted that she had been drunk that night, and may have blacked out. She said that it was possible she had last seen her daughter at about 6:30PM. When she was asked how drunk she had been, and whether she had more than five glasses of wine, she replied: “probably.” Deborah said she frequently drank heavily while at home, but only after she put her children to bed.⁶⁸

The investigation into the perplexing disappearance pressed on, and Lamar Advertising donated several billboards that were then emblazoned with Lisa’s face and information about her disappearance. The same week the billboards went up, another tip came in to detectives. They were sent video footage that showed a man leaving a wooded area near the family’s home. It was from 2:30AM on the 4^th of October – around the same time the eyewitness saw a man carrying a baby. However, it wasn’t clear from the footage whether he was carrying anything.⁶⁹

As it was discovered, there had been three reported sighting of a man carrying a baby that night. All of them said that the baby was dressed only in a diaper. According to FBI agent, Brad Garret, however, the timeline made no sense. He didn’t believe that a man would abduct a baby and then continue to wander through the neighbourhood.⁷⁰

Towards the end of the month, it was announced that Lisa’s two older brothers were going to be re-interviewed by a specialist trained in interviewing children. The boys were ages five and eight.⁷¹ However, Deborah and Jeremy cancelled the interviews the night before they were scheduled to begin. Shortly thereafter, Cindy Short, one of the family’s attorneys, announced that she was stepping down, leaving them just with Joe Tacopina.

One theory that emerged was that Lisa had been abducted by a local handyman named John Tanko, who was known locally as “Jersey.” On the night Lisa disappeared, a woman named Megan Wright received a 50 second phone call from one of the cell phones that had been stolen at the family home. Megan was the ex-girlfriend of Tanko. He had been involved in drug activity, and many questioned whether there was a drug angle to the disappearance. Tanko was questioned by detectives but ruled out as a suspect.⁷²

The weeks gradually turned to months, and the tips slowed down. In May of 2012, Deborah and Jeremy revealed that somebody had fraudulently charged $69.04 to their debit card about a month after Lisa disappeared. The charge was connected to an overseas company that helps people change babies’ names. The card was suspended after the charge, but two other fraudulent charges were attempted. Jeremy said: “Somebody had my information and tried to use it.”

The whereabouts of Lisa Irwin still remains a mystery today, but there are several key theories.

Abduction by a Stranger: This theory suggests that Lisa was kidnapped from her home. Supporters of this theory point to the fact that the front door was unlocked, a window was open, and three witnesses reported seeing a man carrying a baby near the Irwin home that night. Some believe that this man, possibly neighbourhood handyman John “Jersey” Tanko, might have abducted Lisa. However, Tanko was eventually ruled out as a suspect due to a lack of evidence.

Parental Involvement: Another prominent theory is that Lisa’s parents, Deborah Bradley and Jeremy Irwin, were involved in her disappearance, either accidentally or intentionally. Skepticism arose due to inconsistencies in their statements, Deborah’s admission of being intoxicated that night, and the fact that cadaver dogs detected the scent of human remains near her bed. However, there was never enough evidence to charge them, and they have consistently maintained their innocence.

December 10, 1994, began like any other day for the small family. Dwanna had a hair appointment at a local salon, and she took D’Wan along. They paused for a quick lunch at a fast food joint before heading back home. With plans to go out that evening, Dwanna and Victor arranged for D’Wan to stay at a family friend’s house overnight.

The next morning, around 10AM, Dwanna picked up D’Wan. Their day was filled with errands, starting with a trip to the laundromat for five loads of laundry. They then visited her mother’s house before returning to their apartment, where Victor was still asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, Dwanna decided to take D’Wan along for some Christmas shopping at the Wonderland Mall in Livonia, Michigan.

According to Dwanna, she and D’Wan arrived at Wonderland Mall around 1:45PM. They parked and entered through a Target store, but finding it too crowded, she decided to skip her planned shopping there. Inside the mall, they briefly stopped outside a toy store where D’Wan, captivated by the Power Ranger figures, asked if he could go in. Dwanna declined, and they continued on.

Dwanna then headed towards a perfume store, passing it and then a clothing store. It was around this point that she realised D’Wan was no longer by her side. Panicked, she began searching for him frantically. By 4PM, after nearly two hours of searching with no success, she approached a mall security guard and reported her son missing.

A comprehensive search of the mall ensued, but D’Wan was nowhere to be found. As time passed, the situation grew more urgent, and the police were called to assist in the search.

Just days after D’Wan was reported missing, news outlets began reporting that Dwanna had failed two polygraph examinations. Despite the well-known unreliability and inadmissibility of these tests in court, rumours started circulating, casting suspicion on her involvement in her son’s disappearance.

On the 15^th of December, she appeared during a press conference and staunchly denied any involvement, stating: “My only concern is finding my son. Whoever has my baby, I know he’s safe and I know you’re taking good care of him, but just bring him home.”⁷³

Dwanna claimed that detectives were focusing on her as a person of interest largely due to the recent and highly publicized Susan Smith case in South Carolina. Smith had initially claimed that her two sons were kidnapped in a carjacking, only to later confess to drowning them.

However, there were other reasons that detectives doubted Dwanna’s version of what happened that afternoon at the mall, and they publicly announced their suspicions on the 21^st of December. Lt. Pete Kunst announced: “Evidence from the tapes at Wonderland would indicate that D’Wan Sims was never at Wonderland.”⁷⁴

Detectives meticulously reviewed surveillance footage from inside and outside the mall but found no trace of D’Wan. The videos showed Dwanna entering the mall alone, and no witnesses could corroborate her account of visiting the locations she mentioned with D’Wan that afternoon. Lt. Kunst commented on the baffling nature of the case: “A child does not vanish in a vacuum. There are circumstances that surround an event. We’re trying to put those pieces of that puzzle together.”

After D’Wan was reported missing, extensive searches had been conducted. Scores of detectives and volunteers scoured the mall and then expanded their search to the surrounding areas, including the family’s home. D’Wan’s picture was widely circulated in newspapers and fliers across the country, and he was listed with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

Despite the exhaustive search, no sign of D’Wan could be found. “We feel that we have searched every area that makes sense to search,” said Lt. Kunst, as he called off the ground search on December 22.⁷⁵ By now, Dwanna had hired a prominent criminal defence attorney.

While the ground search was called off, the investigation still pressed on with 50 police officers assigned to the case. They continued following up on tips and interviewing people who knew the family. When they spoke with Dwanna’s mother, Beverly, she said something that further implicated her daughter as a suspect.

She said that her daughter told her a version of what she did the day D’Wan disappeared that differed from what Dwanna had told the media. However, Beverly came to her daughter’s defence, commenting: “She said for the life of her, with all this confusion, it’s hard for her to pin her times down.”⁷⁶

All tips received were thoroughly investigated, but none led to D’Wan, and eventually, the leads dried up, causing the case to go cold. Then, in February 1999, a gravedigger in suburban Atlanta discovered the decomposed remains of a young boy in a wooded area near a church cemetery. There was initial speculation that the boy could have been D’Wan, but DNA testing proved otherwise. The remains were eventually identified as those of six-year-old William DaShawn Hamilton. In January 2024, his mother, Teresa Black, was convicted of his death.

By the time William’s body was discovered, the investigation into D’Wan’s disappearance had been handed over by the Livonia Police Department to Detroit’s Violent Crimes Task Force, which included officers from other Wayne County municipalities. Dwanna still professed her innocence, and her mother, Beverly, commented that the five years of police scrutiny had left a strain on their family. “Just think about trying to function every day with a missing child under all of the scrutiny and everything that has been said about my family. I can’t begin to tell you how it has been, how my crying spells have not ended,” she said.⁷⁷

Over the forthcoming years, age progression images of D’Wan were released in the hopes that somebody somewhere recognised him, but nobody ever could. In 2003, Detective Sgt. Shelley Holloway announced: “This case will never be closed, not until we know what happened.” That same year, it was announced that the aging Wonderland Mall was going to be demolished in the summer, and the community couldn’t help but fear that D’Wan had been all but forgotten about.

According to Detective Sgt. Holloway, detectives still believed that Dwanna had something to do with her son’s disappearance, stating: “We are confident that D’Wan was not at the mall when his mother arrived there. She is the one and only suspect. We’ve looked at other things, but it always leads back to her. We think whatever happened to D’Wan, happened someplace else. But there is a lack of evidence, and that’s why there has never been a charge.”⁷⁸

In 2008, Dwanna moved to Durham, North Carolina, and spoke with The Detroit News. By now, she and Victor had separated, and she was re-married with two children. She said that the years had been “very tough” but “you’ve got to try to stay positive.” She said that she hadn’t given up hope that one day, her son would be found. She stated: “If he was deceased, I think someone would have found a body by now. I feel someone has him and is taking good care of him.”⁷⁹

Towards the end of 2019, a man turned up at het Livonia Police Department and shared his belief that he was D’Wan Sims. He said he had been adopted, and was trying to trace his biological parents when he saw a photograph of D’Wan and believed that it was him. Dwanna publicly stated that she didn’t believe the man was her son, but added: “You would like to be hopeful.”⁸⁰ DNA testing ultimately proved that the man wasn’t D’Wan.

On the 7^th of December 2020, Dwanna passed away at home. She professed her innocence up until the day that she died, but detectives who worked on the case believe that the truth of what happened to D’Wan died with her. Police Chief Robert Stevenson stated: “I think she had that secret, she kept it back and didn’t share it with anyone, and then took it to the grave.”⁸¹

The city of Chisholm was home to Kaelin Whittaker and her boyfriend, Christopher Warner. The couple had been married before, and shortly after they began dating, they moved in together towards the end of 1996.

Then on the 21st of January, 1998, they welcomed their daughter, LeeAnna Warner, into the world. She was a familiar face in the neighbourhood, where she made friends with all of the children. She was known to be outgoing, friendly, and brave. Her parents said that had survival instincts that were quite advanced for her age.

On a typical Saturday morning on June 14, 2003, the family had just returned from scouring the Side Lake Rummage Sale when five-year-old LeeAnna asked if she could go over to her friend’s house just around the corner to play. Her parents told her that she could go, but with the stipulation that she be back home in time for dinner at 5PM.

In the late afternoon, LeeAnna left her home alone barefoot, and walked over to her friend’s home. It was a walk LeeAnna had made numerous times before, but when she arrived this time, nobody was home. One of the neighbour’s saw LeeAnna at the front doorstep, and then saw her turn around and head back in the direction of her own home.⁸²

5PM came and went but LeeAnna still hadn’t returned home. Kaelin asked LeeAnna’s half-sister, Karlee, to go and collect her from her friend’s home, assuming she had lost track of time. However, when Karlee arrived, she found that neither LeeAnna nor her friend were there. Karlee widened her search to the neighbourhood but found no trace of her younger sister. After she returned home without LeeAnna, Kaelin and Christopher rallied neighbours to join their search for their daughter, yet she was nowhere to be found.

By 9PM, the gravity of the situation sank in, prompting Kaelin and Christopher to report their daughter missing. Detectives swiftly descended upon the family’s home, gathering statements and launching a search effort. Retracing LeeAnna’s steps yielded no clues, prompting the investigation to expand outward. Every nook and cranny, from bins to drains, was meticulously examined, yet LeeAnna remained elusive.

Given Chisholm’s dense woodland surroundings, detectives speculated on LeeAnna’s potential fate, considering scenarios where she may have wandered off and become lost or fallen into one of the nearby lakes. During a search of Longyear Lake, not far from where LeeAnna was last seen, child-sized footprints were discovered, prompting further investigation. Despite efforts to drain and scour the lake for evidence, no significant findings emerged.

Local residents added fragments to the puzzle, recounting sightings that afternoon. One witness described a mid-30s man standing at around 5’10” with a weight of approximately 155 pounds, sporting a dark tattoo on his right arm resembling a star or sun. Another reported a blue two-door Cadillac driven by a black man in his twenties or thirties, with a bald or shaven head. Additionally, a rusty brown pickup truck driven by a Caucasian man with black curly hair was sighted by another neighbour. Despite repeated appeals from detectives, none of these individuals stepped forward.

In the ensuing weeks, detectives diligently pursued over 1,300 leads, yet each one led to a dead end. The detectives had spoken with a neighbour of LeeAnna’s friend, who verified she arrived at the home and then left when her knock on the door went unanswered. This confirmation narrowed the scope of her disappearance to a mere block and a half. As her mother, Kaelin, lamented: “It’s like she disappeared into thin air or someone zapped her somewhere with a laser. Or that she was abducted by aliens. Just vanished. Gone.”

Eventually, the weeks turned into months, and another theory began to take shape: that LeeAnna was abducted. By August, detectives believed that LeeAnna had been kidnapped by a stranger as she walked back home from her friend’s home. They told her parents of their theory, prompting Christopher to remark: “We knew it in our hearts. But it’s not an easy word to hear.”

Naturally, both Christopher and Kaelin were interviewed and investigated, but detectives could find no evidence to indicate that they were anyway involved in their daughter’s disappearance. As part of their investigation, detectives dug up parts of their pasts that they had wanted to forgert, including an incident that took place the year LeeAnna was born.

Christopher and his ex-wife had gotten into an altercation which resulted in them both seeking restraining orders. In the petition, Christopher claimed that his ex-wife had threatened Kaelin and her two daughters from a previous marriage, and even LeeAnna. However, detectives didn’t believe that this had any connection with LeeAnna’s disappearance.

The family had been hit by criticism from people who questioned why it took them so long to report LeeAnna missing. It was discovered that she was missing just after 5PM, but Kaelin and Christopher didn’t report her missing until about four hours later. According to Christopher, he said that in such a small community as Chisholm, he didn’t believe that something nefarious could have happened, that it never crossed his mind LeeAnna could have been abducted. “It’s such a different way of life up here. Until you live up here, you can’t understand. You can’t pass judgement,” said Kaelin.

In their quest to identify potential persons of interest, detectives shifted their focus towards attendees of a concert and charity fundraiser motorcycle rally held in the city during the weekend of LeeAnna’s disappearance. Scouring records from gas stations, hotels, and campgrounds, they meticulously compiled names, yet their exhaustive efforts failed to unearth any promising leads.

On the 16^th of August, LeeAnna’s family came together for a prayer and praise service in her honour at the Grace Luterhan Church in nearby Hibbing. LeeAnna’s grandmother, Lois, said the service wasn’t a memorial service, but instead “to give a message of hope that we have not given up, that we have faith that she’s coming home.”⁸³ The community came out in droves to offer support for the family, and to pray that LeeAnna come back home safely.

By this point in the investigation, detectives had spoken to several men in the area who were considered persons of interest. Among them was 24-year-old Matthew Curtis, a local man who had recently been charged with possession of child pornography. He had been identified as a person of interest – along with the other men – when detectives began looking into local convicted sex offenders. Curtis lived just a couple of doors away from LeeAnna and her family, and she would have walked past his front door to get back home that afternoon.⁸⁴

However, on the 12^th of September, he was discovered dead in a gravel pit, having taken his own life by placing a plastic bag over his head. Detectives announced to the public that he was no more of a suspect than any of the other people they had talked to, with Department of Public Safety spokesman Kevin Smith stating: “There were a lot of things going on in this man’s life, so it’s not clear why he committed suicide. It may have nothing to do with LeeAnna Warner at all.” When detectives searched his home and car, they could find nothing to connect him to LeeAnna’s disappearance.

That same week, a reward of $25,000 for information about LeeAnna’s disappearance was put forward. LeeAnna’s grandfather, Butch, commented: “What we’re hoping is that somebody who knows something and there’ll be enough money to pry it out of them. Or maybe someone knows something and is waiting for the ante to go up.”⁸⁵

The following month, Kaelin was arrested after she hit Christopher with her car following an argument. He wasn’t seriously injured, but she was charged with one count of criminal vehicular operation causing bodily harm and one count of hit and run, both of which are gross misdemeanours. Eventually, the charges were dropped and Kaelin and Christopher continued in their search for their daughter.

In June 2004, they hired Bob Heales, a private detective who spearheaded the searches that led to the bodies of two murder victims, Dru Sjodin and Erika Dalquist. Christopher commented: “It gives out family new hope because it brings a fresh set of eyes to the case.”⁸⁶

The private detective led a renewed search for LeeAnna, scouring once more through the dense woodland that had already been searched the year beforehand. The families of Dru and Erika both assisted in the search. However, despite the renewed attempt to uncover the fate of LeeAnna, nothing of interest was found during the exhaustive searches.⁸⁷

In 2005, Joseph Duncan was arrested after Brenda Groene, Mark McKenzie, and her 13-year-old son, Slade, were discovered dead in their home outside the city of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Her two other children, nine-year-old Dylan and eight-year-old Shasta, were found to be missing, but Shasta was discovered in a Denny’s with Duncan. He had killed her family and then abducted her. Eventually, Dylan was found dead, having been killed by Duncan as well.

In the wake of Duncan’s arrest, detectives learned he had been in Chisholm at the time of LeeAnna’s disappearance, and detectives considered the possibility that he was involved. Duncan had kept an encrypted diary, and had even mentioned LeeAnna’s disappearance, writing that he thought detectives could make him the prime suspect if they learned he was in the area.⁸⁸

In the wake of Duncan’s arrest, he confessed to the murder of two other girls in 1996, but neither were LeeAnna. Detectives ultimately ruled him out as a suspect. Christopher said of the development: “It’s a relief to know that an animal like that probably wasn’t involved in her disappearance. But on the flip side, it kind of puts us back to square one.”⁸⁹

As the years crawled by, the stagnancy of the case weighed heavily on the family. Age progression images of LeeAnna were periodically released, offering glimpses into what she might look like as time marched on. For Kaelin, these updated depictions proved to be an emotional ordeal. “Still to this day, I look for a five-year-old. I can’t get that out of my head,” she said.⁹⁰ Christopher once commented that he had recurring dreams of LeeAnna crawling into bed with him and Kaelin at night, the way she used to do. He would reach out to her, but all he would grasp was air.

Tragedy struck the family once more on December 10, 2022, when Kaelin succumbed to inoperable lung cancer at Essentia Health St. Mary’s Medical Center in Duluth. Just a month earlier, she had received the devastating diagnosis, leaving her to confront her mortality without ever knowing the fate of her daughter, who remains missing to this day.

To help support herself, Deanna had been working as a part-time cashier at the Star Market on Broadway in Winter Hill for the past three months. Those who worked alongside her described her as a “nice kid.” Each day she came into work, she always had a massive smile on her face and was said to be really upbeat. “She was a really nice girl. Really beautiful. Everybody liked her,” recalled Stephanie Chute, for whom Deanna often babysat.

Her mother, Katherine, described her as “a real goofball.” She recalled one occasion when Deanna stole her older sister’s clothing and said that she always covered for her younger brother whenever he got into mischief. She said: “She always identified with the underdog. She was a teenager with goals, most of them centered on helping people in need.” ⁹²

It was a pleasant evening on 29 March 1995, and Deanna left her home to visit her boyfriend, 18-year-old Thomas LeBlanc. The couple had been dating for around a year and it was a routine visit. Deanna was expected home by 10 PM, but 10 PM came and went, and Deanna was a no-show. Her mother, Katherine Cremin, was scheduled to be at work early in the morning, so she went to bed. ⁹³

The following morning, two boys were taking a shortcut in Somerville to their elementary school when they made a gruesome discovery. It was the partially nude body of Deanna. She was lying on her back with nothing on her upper body other than a red jacket that was open at the front. Her underwear was pulled off her right leg and pulled down around her left thigh. There had been no attempt to hide Deanna’s body; she was lying next to a chain-link fence.

Deanna’s body was transported to the medical examiner’s office where it was found that she had been strangled to death.

An investigation was immediately launched, and detectives went door-to-door in the area where her body was found to ask whether anybody had seen – or heard – anything suspicious, but nobody had. Naturally, detectives went to speak with Thomas first. He told them that Deanna had arrived safe and well, and as 10 PM was approaching, he walked her halfway home before they went their separate ways. ⁹⁴

The murder sent shockwaves throughout the community, with those who knew Deanna best saying that she must have been killed by a stranger. One friend said: “She was too nice. No one who knew her could have done this.” Their theories that she was killed by a stranger matched the theory of the detectives, who believed that she was intercepted by her killer after she and Thomas went their separate ways to walk home.

As the investigation was underway, hundreds of mourners showed up to Deanna’s wake at the Cataldo Funeral Home in Winter Hill. Deanna’s classmates came together in small groups to grieve the loss of their friend. By 3PM, the line to the front door stretched to the sidewalk.⁹⁵

Deanna was laid to rest days later, and people packed into St. Polycarp Church to bid her one final farewell. All 600 seats were occupied, with mourners spilling out into the aisles. The service was led by Rev. Robert Doyle, who revealed that although he had been a priest since 1949, he had never buried a murder victim before.

He poignantly said: “We can’t bring Deanna back to us. Once this beautiful gift of life is gone there’s nothing we can do to bring it back. But there is something we can do in remembering her: Love life! Respect life! Respect yourself. And respect one another. That’s the legacy, the beautiful testimony, she leaves for each of us today.”⁹⁶

A couple of days after the service, it was announced that detectives had questioned a man three times in relation to Deana’s murder. It was 36-year-old Lt. Charles Houghton, a firefighter since 1984, who came from a prominent Somerville family. His father was attorney Charles H. Houghton.

While investigators continued looking into Houghton as a person of interest, they announced that they were looking for an unidentified man who was seen in the area where Deanna was found strangled to death. He was described as a white man with short dark hair, somewhere between 40 and 45-years-old, and around 5 feet 9 inches tall to 5 feet 11 inches tall.

Assistant District Attorney Martin Murphy said: “At this point, we have no evidence to believe he is a suspect. We believe he was in the area possibly at the time of the murder and we seek to obtain information from him about what he may have seen or heard.”⁹⁷

In May, Deanna’s family announced a $10,000 reward for information that could lead to her killer. The reward had been gathered through a fund-raiser that was organized by the family and through sales of T-shirts and buttons.

Unfortunately, the lure of the reward did very little to generate much information, but toward the end of the month, Thomas found himself in trouble with the law. His mother, Susan LeBlanc, filed a restraining order against him. It was the third in recent years. In the affidavit, she wrote: “When Tommy goes into a rage, I fear that my life is in jeopardy.”

Susan was granted the restraining order and Thomas was ordered to move out of her home and stay at least 100 yards away from her. According to the affidavit, Thomas had thrown lamps and furniture at his mother in an “effort to maintain control of me.” She said that with Thomas living inside her home, she felt as though she was living inside a prison.

According to an earlier affidavit from a restraining order from 1993, Thomas had a history of a violent temper, and if he didn’t get his own way, he would lash out and act irrational. His mother, Susan, had written: “He is a very angry child since the age of 5 or 6.” Susan had even revealed that when Thomas was younger, he had shot her cat three times with a BB gun.⁹⁸

According to detectives working the homicide case, Thomas was on the “short list” of potential suspects. One source commented: “He has always been on the short list. He’s never been off the list.”

As time passed, weeks turned into months, and Deanna’s family was faced with the daunting task of rebuilding their shattered lives and moving on. Despite the overwhelming grief, they remained determined to keep Deanna’s case in the public eye. In September, her mother, Katherine, stated firmly: “I’m relentless about this. I will not let this go. I want the person who killed my daughter punished.”

In March, the one year anniversary rolled around. Deanna’s loved ones all gathered for a memorial at St. Ann’s Church in Somerville. Her father, Bert Rodgers, said: “Somebody out there knows something, and that’s what we’re hoping for, that we’ll get a break in the case.” It was announced that the reward fund still was available for anybody with information that would lead to the conviction of Deana’s killer, and that it was now going to be advertised on a billboard just off McGrath Highway.⁹⁹

Eventually, those months dragged on to years and Deanna’s family were left to pick up the pieces of their lives and move forward as best as possible. In 1997, Katherine spoke with the media from a drug rehab program. The past two years had been undoubtedly tough on her, and she had relied heavily on tranquilizers and alcohol to get her through the ordeal. She said: “What this has done to us is just totally unfair.”

Captain Robert Bradley made a commitment to continue working on the case, stating that they still needed crucial information to unravel the complexities of the murder. Katherine revealed that she had been told that Deanna didn’t die where her body was found, and this led her to think of Thomas. She stated: “Two years ago, Tommy made a promise to me that he would do whatever it took to clear his name. He said he’d take a polygraph. So far, he’s never done it. It troubles me he’s never done the footwork to clear his name.”¹⁰⁰

There was no movement in the case until March of 1999, when a new billboard was erected in an effort to target the killer’s conscience. It included information on Deanna’s murder along with offer of a $10,000 reward. It included a chilling reminder: “You know what you did to me.” The billboard was located in the neighbourhood where Deanna’s body was found.¹⁰¹

In unveiling the billboard, Katherine said: “There are people who haven’t cooperated in Deanna’s murder and they know who they are.” It was disclosed for the first time that Thomas was in fact a suspect in the murder case, and that he had refused to cooperate in the investigation. At first, he told investigators he had walked her half-way home, but since then, he had refused to speak with investigators. He since moved away from the area.

The billboard did very little to elicit any information, and in 2001, the reward fund was increased to $13,000. In announcing the increase, her father, Albert, said: “We’re not going to stop until we get answers. They’re going to dread the month of March as much as we do.”¹⁰²

In 2005, it had been a decade since Deanna was killed. Investigators revealed that they had three persons of interest in the case, including Thomas and Charles as well as a third man, Anthony Delago, who was currently incarcerated at Massachusetts Correctional Institution.

Katherine said she has always considered Thomas the most likely suspect. She said: “After every date, Tommy always called the house to say goodnight to Deanna. But not that night. Why did he pick that night to walk her half way home?” Katherine said that every other night, Thomas walked Deanna the entire way home. She continued: “Every promise the kid made to me after Deanna’s murder turned out to be a lie. He’s refused to cooperate with police, refused a lie detector test, refused to deal with us.”¹⁰³

That same year, the reward fund was increased even further to $20,000. In announcing the new reward fund, District Attorney Martha Coakley said that a couple of people in the community were holding crucial information, and she hoped that with the reward fund, it would encourage them to finally come forward.

Over the forthcoming years, Katherine and Albert continued to plead with the public for information. Each year, they held a memorial for their daughter in an effort to keep the unsolved murder at the forefront of the community’s mind. The Middlesex County District Attorney’s Office said in 2006 that the investigation was still ongoing, but Katherine wasn’t convinced. She said: “There isn’t enough manpower in the Somerville Police Department to investigate an 11-year-old crime, I believe it is a cold case.”

Katherine revealed later that year that she had read through dozens of letters Thomas had sent to Deanna and reached the conclusion he was obsessed with her. She also revealed that during a grand jury, Thomas had refused to answer questions, and once again mentioned that he refused to take a polygraph examination.

The murder of Deanna Cremin still remains unsolved today. If you have any information that may assist in the case, call the tip line of 617-544-7167.