Forensic Files Archives - Page 18 of 22

Fraud, Murder, Bike Shorts: A Just Sweats Timeline

Just Sweats Chronology
(“Mistaken for Dead,” Forensic Files)

Last week’s post provided a cheat sheet for the principal characters in a murder-insurance fraud case perpetrated by a trio of friends.

The conspirators were grown men who really should have known better: Dr. Richard Boggs, Gene Hanson, and John Hawkins.

Dr. Boggs was a California neurologist with a Harvard degree and, at one time, a good reputation and lots of money.

Ohio residents Hawkins and Hanson staked their own glory on Just Sweats, a chain of stores they opened to sell workout clothes.

Hawkins and Hanson were also lovers, although some sources suggest that the boyishly handsome Hawkins preferred women and was just using Hanson.

Once Just Sweats faltered, they should have simply filed for bankruptcy and gotten jobs selling health club memberships or real estate.

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Instead, they hooked up with Dr. Boggs in California, took the life of an innocent fourth party, and ruined all their own lives.

A number of viewers who left reader comments on the YouTube webpage for “Mistaken for Dead” — the Forensic Files episode about the case — mentioned the plot of the murder-insurance fraud case was hard to follow. So a timeline seems in order.

1970
Dr. Richard Boggs, a respected neurologist, helps create Satellite Health Systems, one of the first HMOs in the United States.

1971 to 1976
Satellite Health Systems grows spectacularly but fails to make a profit. Dr. Boggs is millions of dollars in debt.

1977
Dr. Boggs declares bankruptcy. Friends say he is never the same afterward.

1978
Lola Boggs leaves Dr. Boggs after a marriage of more than 20 years and four children.

He moves out of the couple’s luxurious Tudor-style house in Glendale, California, and gets an apartment in West Hollywood. He begins partying with young men there.

1981
Lola Boggs takes her ex-husband to court over $33,000 in unpaid child support.

1981 to 1988
Dr. Boggs continues to spend lavishly, buying a Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith II. He incurs huge debts.

He is accused of performing unnecessary surgeries on patients. Medical organizations expel him.

At some point in the 1980s, he meets the two Just Sweats entrepreneurs from Ohio: sexy high school dropout John Hawkins and middle-aged former department-store shoe buyer Melvin Eugene “Gene” Hanson.

Hanson becomes Dr. Boggs’ patient.

1985
Hawkins and Hanson open their first Just Sweats store, in Columbus, Ohio. It carries a large inventory of colorful exercise clothing.

The store is a huge success.

1986
The duo open more Just Sweats for a total of 22 stores in Ohio and Kentucky. They offer such deals as Lycra bike shorts for $4.99.

Hawkins appears in TV commercials for the business and becomes “a household name across central Ohio,” according to the Columbus Dispatch.

But Hawkins and Hanson begin mismanaging the business. They start selling off the stores’ assets for cash.

At some point, the two men begin plotting a crime that will relieve them of the financial hellhole Just Sweats has become.

Hanson starts applying for life insurance. He ultimately obtains three policies totaling $1.5 million and names Hawkins sole beneficiary. The plan is to fake Hanson’s death and get their hands on the insurance money.

They invite Dr. Boggs in on their plan. His assignment: to procure a body to pass off as Hanson’s.

1988
Meanwhile, Hawkins and Hanson do a Herculean job of hiding the financial problems at Just Sweats. As a Columbus Dispatch story stated:

“Propelled by a series of seemingly ubiquitous TV commercials — all of which featured the wavy-haired, always-smiling entrepreneur — the chain’s annual sales were approaching $10 million. Would-be franchisees were lining up, and major players in the athletic-wear industry were looking to invest.”

1988
Realizing that any prospective Just Sweats investor would require to see an audit — which they cannot allow — Hawkins and Hanson begin looking for an illicit way out.

Gene Hanson starts telling people that he has AIDS and is dying. Neither claim is true: Hanson is setting up a story to make his upcoming “death” believable.

April 9, 1988
Dr. Boggs makes his first attempt at acquiring a dead body by killing someone.

The would-be victim, a computer professional named Barry Pomeroy, complains to the Glendale police that Dr. Boggs tried to murder him by prodding him with an electric device after meeting him at a bar called The Spike and inviting him to his office for an EKG.

The district attorney declines to press charges because of a lack of corroboration. At least one source says authorities dismissed the incident as a lovers’ spat.

Also, Dr. Boggs retains some remnants of his former success: A detective who hears of Pomeroy’s claim notes that Dr. Boggs has an excellent reputation in town.

April 15, 1988
Another try: Dr. Boggs — and possibly Hanson as well — chat up a stranger named Ellis Greene and somehow entice him to Dr. Boggs’ office. The doctor tasers Greene and murders him by suffocation, then puts Gene Hanson’s driver’s license, credit card, and birth certificate in the dead man’s wallet.

April 16, 1988
Dr. Boggs calls 911 and says a longtime patient named Gene Hanson (who was in reality alive and well and hiding) died from a heart attack in his office; he tried CPR, but it was no use.

Paramedics note that rigor mortis already set in. Dr. Boggs claims he tried to call 911 earlier but the line was busy.

Late April 1988
John Hawkins jets to California, identifies Greene’s body as Hanson’s, and puts in a claim for $1 million of the insurance money.

At some point, Hawkins has “Gene Hanson’s body” cremated to destroy evidence.

July 1988
Farmers New World Life Insurance sends Hawkins a check for $1 million.

A few days later, a case worker at the insurance company discovers Ellis Greene’s thumbprint taken at the morgue doesn’t match Gene Hanson’s thumbprint on record at the DMV.

Two other insurers deny claims filed by Hawkins.

Hawkins panics. He withdraws $400,000 from Just Sweats accounts and flees to Amsterdam. He buys a boat so he can travel freely.

Hanson also abandons Just Sweats stores, and flees separately.

1989
Security workers at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport notice a nervous-looking man with plastic surgery scars on his face.

Suspecting he’s a drug courier, they detain the man and find he’s carrying $14,000 in cash.

Although he gives his name as either Wolfgang von Snowden or George Soule (sources vary), he has Ellis Greene’s driver’s license. He’s also carrying a Dade County library book called How to Change Your Identity.

He is Gene Hanson. Police take him into custody.

Hanson claims he paid Dr. Boggs $50,000 to supply a corpse but had nothing to do with the murder of Ellis Greene.

John Hawkins is still at large.

October 10, 1989
The Los Angeles Times runs an in-depth article called “The Rise and Fall of Dr. Boggs.”

1990
Dr. Boggs claims that he didn’t kill Greene; he was already dead. He also said that he only took part in the insurance fraud scheme because Hanson threatened to out him as gay.

Regardless, Dr. Boggs is convicted of murder and insurance fraud and gets a life sentence.

April 29, 1990
With John Hawkins still missing, America’s Most Wanted airs a segment about the sweatpants gang’s crime and asks for help locating him.

Oprah Winfrey has America’s Most Wanted host John Walsh on her show to discuss the manhunt.

A former girlfriend of Hawkins in Amsterdam sees the Oprah episode and offers info about his whereabouts.

August 1991
Authorities find Hawkins off the coast of Sardinia in a red catamaran named Carpe Diem. He angrily denies that he’s John Hawkins. They seize him anyway.

August 8, 1995
Gene Hanson goes to trial. He maintains that he thought Dr. Boggs was going to use a cadaver, not murder someone.

Nonetheless, a jury convicts him of murder and insurance fraud.

August 10, 1995
It’s Hawkins’ turn to go to trial. Like Hanson, he claims that Dr. Boggs was supposed to use a cadaver; the state drops the murder charge against Hawkins.

But Hawkins is found guilty of insurance fraud.

August 21, 1995
Gene Hanson receives life in prison without the possibility of parole.

October 13, 1995
Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Paul G. Flynn gives John Hawkins 25 years to life — a lighter sentence than what his associates got.

2003
Dr. Boggs dies in Corcoran State Prison in California at age 69.

March 2012
Hawkins wins early release from Donovan State Prison in San Diego in part because he participated in Convicts Reaching Out to People, or CROP, a program to help teens stay out of trouble.

May 2014
A Columbus Dispatch story reveals Hawkins lives with his mother in a San Diego recreational vehicle park and continues to work with troubled young people.

In a Columbus TV station WBNS-10 interview, Hawkins says he was an arrogant youth. He admits to participating in the insurance fraud scheme but again insists no one was supposed to die.

Hawkins tears up on camera and says he’s glad to have a second chance.

2017
Hanson remains in prison at Men’s Colony in San Luis Obispo, California.

That’s all for this post. True Crime Truant will be on vacation next week and back the following Thursday with a post about John Hawkins’ dubious legacy today. Until then, cheers.

Update: Read Part 3.

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Just Sweats Gang Cheat Sheet

Smart Pants, Foolish Men
(“Mistaken for Dead,” Forensic Files)

The tale of how two sweatpants entrepreneurs and a friend used insurance fraud to bail themselves out of a financial hole was a five-star smorgasbord for any Forensic Files watcher.

The cast includes a brilliant doctor turned wicked, a two-timing male model, and a third accomplice who faked his own death and then (wait for it) got plastic surgery and hair transplants to change his identity.

“Mistaken for Dead,” the Forensic Files episode about the case, weaves a Hollywood-worthy tangled web, to be sure.

The story plays out as something of a glam precursor to the Molly and Clay Daniels debacle, except with better dental work.

Unfortunately, the sweatpants gang actually killed someone (Molly and Clay only robbed a grave).

A number of readers who commented on the “Mistaken for Dead” episode on YouTube mentioned having trouble keeping the plot and the characters straight.

So this week’s post will be a cheat sheet for the 1988 crime’s four principals:

Dr. Richard Boggs, age 55
Role: Killer and conspirator
Who: Respected neurologist with a Harvard degree, a Tudor-style mansion in Glenwood, California, and an ex-wife and kids.
Why: Boggs was secretly living in a financial house of cards. He needed money.
Participation in crime: Lured Ellis Greene to his office, then murdered him as part of an insurance fraud plan hatched with Gene Hanson and John Hawkins.

Gene Hanson, age 46
Role: Conspirator
Who: Entrepreneur who co-owned a chain of 22 Just Sweats stores in Kentucky and Ohio with his lover and business partner John Hawkins.
Why: Just Sweats expanded too fast and was a financial disaster. Hanson wanted to disappear to escape responsibility for the business. He needed money.
Participation in crime: Faked his own death so his cohorts could collect $1.5 million in insurance payouts to be divided among him, Boggs, Hawkins.

John Hawkins, age 25
Role: Conspirator
Who: Young David Hasselhoff lookalike who co-owned Just Sweats chain. Hawkins appeared in commercials for Just Sweats before the bottom dropped out of the business. He ultimately became the object of a three-year manhunt.
Why: Like Hanson, Hawkins wanted to escape the financial disaster engulfing the retail clothing chain. He needed money.
Participation in crime: Served as the bagman. He was the beneficiary of Hanson’s $1.5 million in life insurance policies. After Hanson faked his own death, Hawkins flew from Ohio to California, collected $1 million from one of the policies, and vamoosed.

Ellis Greene, 32
Role: Victim
Who: Friendly accountant who lived in North Hollywood, California.
Why: One or two of the conspirators probably spotted Greene at a bar and realized he looked something like Hanson. Then, Dr. Boggs invited Greene to his medical office, assaulted him with a stun gun, and suffocated him. Dr. Boggs called 911 and said Greene’s dead body belonged to Hanson. That way, the three conspirators could get their hands on Hanson’s life insurance money.
Participation in crime: None. He was murdered by someone he thought was a new friend.

That’s all for this week. The next post will provide a timeline of the crime. Until then, cheers. — RR

Update: See the Just Sweats crime timeline.

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Justice for Valiree Jackson

Her Dad Was No Father of the Year
(“Bagging a Killer,” Forensic Files)

This week, it’s back to Forensic Files with an episode about how police used a low-concept ploy and a high-tech device to expose a murderer.

Valiree Jackson and a wee pal in an undated photo

Investigators compelled Brad Jackson, who killed his 9-year-old daughter, to dance a two-step familiar to Forensic Files watchers:

1) “Officer, I have no idea what happened to (fill in name).”
2) “Your Honor, I know what happened and it’s not my fault because (fill in improbable excuse).”

Police tactics that force suspects to change their stories add some wry moments to otherwise grim tales like this one.

Taken? Jackson, 34, ended up sentenced to 56 years rather than life without parole. So, for this week, I dug around a little for an epilogue for him and some of the other parties on “Bagging a Killer,” the Forensic Files episode about the case.

But first a recap of the episode, along with additional information drawn from internet research:

On October 18, 1999, Brad Jackson dialed 911 and, in an anguished voice, said he couldn’t find his daughter.

She’d been playing outside with her dog and had disappeared, with only her backpack left behind, he said.

Troubled mom. Folks from the Jacksons’ friendly neighborhood in Spokane Valley, Washington, sprang into action by searching for the flame-haired little girl and holding vigils.

Not everyone was buying Brad Jackson’s heartsick single dad routine, though. Valiree’s uncle John Stone recalled how his sister, Roseann Pleasant, had feared Jackson.

Pleasant had vanished two years after giving birth to Valiree, her daughter with Jackson. She reportedly struggled with drug problems, which Jackson blamed for her disappearance. But Stone wasn’t so sure.

Car stash. Investigators also had some suspicions about Jackson in relation to his daughter’s disappearance. He claimed that some blood stains on Valiree’s pillow came from a nosebleed she’d had the night before he reported her missing. But police hadn’t found any bloody tissues, wash cloths, cotton balls, etc., in the house.

After searching Jackson’s car and Ford pickup truck, investigators secretly outfitted each vehicle with a GPS transmitter — hot new gadgetry back in the day. A 1999 New York Times story about the case described it as a high-tech version of a bloodhound.” (Prosecutor Jack Driscoll later said “GPS” stands for “God Praise Satellites.”)

Then, as Detective David Madsen explained during his interview on Forensic Files, he warned Jackson that if Valiree lay in a shallow grave somewhere, her body would be easy to find.

Jackson fell for it.

The GPS tracked his movements as he removed his daughter’s body from its original grave, then drove to another area to bury it more deeply.

Cadaver dogs found Valiree’s body buried face down on the grounds of the second of those locations, a logging region near the town of Springdale.

Shaky defense. Investigators believe Jackson suffocated Valiree in her bed, thus the blood on her pillow, then wrapped her head in a plastic bag — similar to ones found in the home that Jackson shared with his parents and Valiree — and hastily buried her. Afterward, he returned home, called 911, and started play-acting.

In the subsequent trial, Jackson’s “not my fault” contention was that he had found Valiree dead in her bed due to a Paxil overdose (more about that in a second), panicked out of fear that people wouldn’t believe him, and then buried her.

The jury didn’t buy it.

As for a motive, apparently Valiree didn’t get along with her father’s onetime girlfriend, Dannette Schroeder. Jackson allegedly felt that, with his daughter out of the way, he could rekindle things with Schroeder.

Few friends. I’m not sure how Forensic Files narrator Peter Thomas managed to read this part without throttling the living parties involved: Taking Valiree to a psychiatrist and getting her a prescription for the psychotropic drug was Schroeder’s idea. Schroeder thought it would help make the little girl easier to contend with.

Apparently, however, Schroeder had nothing to do with the murder plot. She testified for the prosecution at Jackson’s trial.

“He’s not the B.J. that I fell in love with two years ago,” Schroeder testified. “I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t there.”

Some of Jackson’s own blood relatives spoke out against him in court.

“This is hard for me to say — I honestly believe Brad deserves what he took from Valiree, and that’s a life sentence,” said his brother, Dick Jackson, as reported by AP.

Memorial. Neighbors who fell victim to Jackson’s false alarm that an anonymous child abductor was loose in their community weren’t exactly unhappy to see him locked up either.

The Forensic Files episode closed with a view of the tree that kids from McDonald Elementary, where Valiree attended school, planted as a memorial to her. They chose a plum tree with red leaves that reminded friends of her hair.

So where are the parties today? There’s no recent information available online about Dannette Schroeder, but the Web did turn up some intelligence on others related to the case:

• Sadly, Roseann Pleasant never turned up. Her brother said he suspected Jackson killed her and buried her in a building foundation during his stint working for Haskins Steel Co. The Charley Project, an organization that profiles missing persons, maintains a page devoted to Pleasant. (Note: Some sources spell her first name “Roseanne.”)

• John Stone, Valiree’s uncle, was the most sympathetic character appearing on the Forensic Files episode. Many online commenters expressed anger that Brad Jackson didn’t simply give custody of Valiree to Stone if he wanted her out of the way. Stone launched the Valiree Jackson Charitable Foundation which, as of 2004, was mired in some legal woes.

• Lawyers for Jackson have taken issue with the legality of the police’s GPS use. On Sept 11, 2003, the state of Washington Supreme Court denied Jackson’s motion for a new trial and reaffirmed his conviction. In 2019, he lost another court action, which noted he’s incarcerated in Mayo Correctional Institution in Florida. (Thanks to reader TJ for writing in with the tip.) It’s a safe bet that this child killer will stay behind razor wire, where he can’t harm innocent people again.

That’s all for this post. Until next week, cheers. — RR

Dungeons & Dragons, Oh My

Scapegoating a Role-Playing Game
(“Shopping Spree,” Forensic Files)

Last week’s post discussed how a young man who loved role-playing games, most notably Dungeons & Dragons, committed homicide.

Caleb Fairley’s killing of Lisa Manderach and her baby daughter, profiled on Forensic Files episode “Shopping Spree,” allegedly arose from his obsession with finding a real-life counterpart to the type of woman whose looks were idealized in his fantasy game (or games) of choice.

For this week, I looked into whether any other superfans of Dungeons & Dragons have left murder victims in their wakes.

Disturbed adolescents. To get right to the point, the answer is yes, a few, although they go back quite a ways. In 1984, Steve and Dan Erwin, 12 and 15, died in a Colorado murder-suicide and left a note saying it was their only way to escape the game.

Three years later, Daniel Kasten murdered his parents in their Long Island home reportedly because a Dungeons & Dragons character named Mind Flayer coerced him into it.

But even before those murders happened, Dungeons & Dragons had turned into the subject of public scrutiny because of suicides by a number of boys known to play the game.

Organized revolt. After two separate such cases, one in 1979, the other in 1982, the mother of the second young man, Irving Lee Pulling, started the group Bothered About Dungeons and Dragons, or BADD.

By 1985 — a decade before Fairley generated headlines — BADD had made Dungeons & Dragons the object of a moderate case of public hysteria.

A game that involved such supernatural elements as magic spells and curses must, the BADD folks reasoned, degenerate into real-life everyday devil worship, human self-sacrifices, etc.

Evidence existed that Pulling and the other youth who took his own life, a 16-year-old boy genius named James Dallas Egbert III, had underlying psychological problems, but that didn’t slow down BADD’s momentum.

Unhealthy relationship? BADD grew prominent enough to spur a 60 Minutes segment about the Dungeons & Dragons phenomenon in 1985. Host Ed Bradley described D&D:

An enormously complicated game in which each player chooses an imaginary character he’ll assume. There are dwarves, knights, and thieves, gods, and devils, magic and spells. It’s a journey into fantasy through complicated mazes where you use your wits to kill your enemies before they kill you, all in a quest for wealth and power. The dungeon master orchestrates and referees the game, creating scenarios both complicated and terrifying.

Dieter H. Sturm, public relations director for TSR Inc., the company that sells D&D, made a case that correlation doesn’t mean causation: With 3 million to 4 million users of the game in the U.S., it was a coincidence that a fraction of the 5,000 teens who committed suicide in the most recent 12-month period played D&D, he said.

An adolescent boy wearing eyeglasses with Reagan-era giant aviator frames (talk about scary) explained that the good game-characters try to stop the bad hombres from raping and plundering — and the role-playing stops once the six-sided dice go back in the box.

Good clean fun. “This is make believe,” Dungeons and Dragons creator Gary Gygax told 60 Minutes. “Who is bankrupted by losing a game of Monopoly?

You can find a hazy video of some of the 60 Minutes story on YouTube. An online commenter calling himself Michael Miller wrote the following retroactive rebuttal to BADD’s campaign:

My mom gave me the red Basic D&D for Christmas while this stupidity was going on. She played with me and the rest of the family several times, and we all had a great time defeating monsters, getting out of traps, and amassing sizeable fortunes. She knew how to be an involved, responsible parent.

The BADD publicity died down after a few years. Researchers from the Centers for Disease Control said they found no causal link between D&D and violence.

In fact, one could make a case for a connection between the game and healthy creativity.

Winners, not losers. A number of accomplished authors, including George R.R. Martin, the father of Game of Thrones, have given credit to Dungeons & Dragons for sparking their imaginations as writers.

A 2014 New York Times article quoted Pulitzer prize-winner Junot Díaz as saying that, via Dungeons & Dragons, “we welfare kids could travel, have adventures, succeed, be powerful, triumph, fail, and be in ways that would have been impossible in the larger real world.”

Still, it’s not hard to imagine anti-D&D activism reappearing today, with religious fundamentalism on the rise. (As a Wiccan told me many years ago, every so often, when there’s nothing better to worry about, some concerned citizen sounds an alarm about devil-worship.)

It can be enough to make even a sane person worry about his own affinity for fantasy and superhero-related culture.

Introspection. Fairley’s crime recently prompted self-reflection from one writer somewhere along the nerd continuum. A passage from the 2015 post by blogger Benjamin Welton on Literary Trebuchet:

Whereas Fairley spent his days alone in his parent’s home with his porn, his vampires, and Dungeons & Dragons, I killed many hours alone in my father’s apartment with my comic books, my horror novels, and my favorite television shows. Fairley loved heavy metal; I still do. As much as it pains me to say it, Caleb Fairley, who was convicted of murdering and sexually assaulting Lisa Manderach and her 19-month-old daughter Devon in 1995, is the darkest version of people like me and my friends.

But surely he knows that paranoia and substance abuse, not football, fueled Aaron Hernandez’s homicidal rage, and greed, not tennis, compelled the Menendez brothers to make themselves orphans.

Without D&D, would Game of Thrones exist?

One can point to an id lurking in practitioners of just about every avocation and vocation.

Good guys. Fortunately, very few lead to horrifying crimes. And perpetrators are far outnumbered by the authorities who protect us from them.

Who knows, some of those hard-working law enforcement types just might shake off stress with a little witch and wizard role-playing in their off hours.

That’s all for this post. Until next week, cheers. — RR

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Lisa Manderach’s Murder

A Woman And Her Baby Walk into a Trap
(“Shopping Spree,” Forensic Files)

Last week’s post told of two nice people with the bad luck to cross paths with a personable married couple who were thrill killers looking for prey.

The circumstances of Lisa Manderach’s murder, the subject of today’s post, seem even more improbable.

Random misfortune. She walked into a kids clothing store where a young man working the cash register just happened to be a fantasy-game superfan seething with thoughts of criminal perversion.

Lisa Agostinelli Manderach lost her life because the aforementioned Dungeons and Dragons enthusiast, one Caleb Fairley, age 21, reportedly considered her the embodiment of beauty he’d been wanting to seize.

Fairley also killed Devon, the baby daughter Lisa shared with husband James Manderach. The murders initially made James, called Jimmy, a suspect because, as we know from countless other Forensic Files, the spouse did it.

Lenient system? Jimmy had reported Lisa missing when she failed to return home from shopping by dinner time. Fortunately, investigators found glaring evidence of Fairley’s guilt within days of the murder and built a case so solid that the attacker ended up sentenced to two consecutive life terms for two counts of second-degree murder.

Still, “Shopping Spree,” the Forensic Files episode about the murders, left me curious about an epilogue for Fairley.

He came from an affluent family, is white, and was young when he committed his crimes — all factors that can favorably tip the scales of justice.

On the other hand, the judicial system rarely takes kindly to anyone who kills a mother or child, or both.

Before getting into the most recent information on Fairley, here’s a recap of the episode along with some additional facts culled from internet sources:

Quick jaunt. Lisa Manderach, two weeks shy of her 30th birthday, worked full time as a fork-lift operator in a food warehouse and also had an entrepreneurial streak.

The Manderachs ran a janitorial service on the side. She also did volunteer work for Meals on Wheels.

The couple had known each other since Lisa was 10 and Jimmy was friends with her brothers. They married in 1992.

Devon, 19 months, was their only child.

The trio were all dark and striking. Lisa had long flowing hair, pale skin, and a pretty face.

On September 15, 1995, she and Devon headed to Your Kidz & Mine, a new clothing store in the Collegeville Shopping Center, 10 minutes from her house in Limerick, Pennsylvania.

Jimmy stayed home to watch football.

Lisa left her diaper bag at home because she planned to stay out for only an hour, which makes “Shopping Spree” an odd choice for the title of the Forensic Files episode. (To me, it’s not a “spree” unless it starts in the morning and doesn’t end until it’s too dark to find your car.)

Fantasy. As soon as she stepped into Your Kidz & Mine, Fairley, who had a passion for vampire lore, reportedly recognized her as having the idealized look of the women portrayed in vampire-related literature.

Fairley, a blond, heavy, powerful-looking fire hydrant of a man who lived with his parents, was described by a friend as a devotee of Dungeons and Dragons, a role-playing game that allows people to act out story lines involving medieval warrior heroes, dragons, wicked monarchs, you name it.

It’s not clear whether Fairley’s interest in vampires was part of D&D or a separate pastime.

The mullet-wearing Fairley killed both Devon and Lisa via strangulation and most likely sexually assaulted Lisa. He disposed of the little girl’s body in Valley Forge National Park, where hikers soon discovered it.

Fairley took Lisa’s body to a wooded spot in an industrial area near his health club.

Cover-up. Police found her 1988 Firebird in the shopping plaza’s parking lot and located a witness who remembered seeing Lisa in Your Kidz & Mine.

Then, in what has to be everyone’s favorite part of the episode, police noticed Fairley was wearing beige makeup on his face when they brought him in for questioning.

He washed off the foundation at their request, uncovering scratch marks that looked as though they came from someone’s fingernails.

During questioning, he claimed he got them while mosh-pit dancing, although it later came out that he had told friends he got scratched up while rescuing a guy who was being beaten up outside the clothing store.

He allegedly pressured one of those friends, Christopher Lefler, to perjure himself by corroborating the dance alibi in court; Lefler refused.

Police got a search warrant for Fairley’s home and discovered a great deal of pornography.

Hasty assumption. “We found out that he was a real pervert, all kinds of sexual devices and various perverted stuff,” District Attorney Bruce L. Castor Jr. told Forensic Files rather triumphantly.

In general, I wouldn’t be so hasty to assume a link between perverted, well, whatever it was he had in his possession, and criminality.

But fortunately the murder created plenty of forensic evidence that made for a stronger case against Fairley.

Police found Lisa’s body after Fairley agreed to disclose its location in exchange for a promise that they wouldn’t pursue the death penalty. That decision drew public anger, as can be seen in Philadelphia Daily News letters to the editor published on September 29, 1995.

Investigators discovered his DNA under Lisa’s fingernails, some strands of long dark hair with the roots attached (suggesting a struggle) in the vacuum cleaner bag at the store, and the baby’s DNA on the carpet.

All this culminated in Caleb Fairley’s April 1996 conviction for two counts of murder, aggravated assault, theft, and abuse of a corpse.

I’m real immature. Fairley has not found prison life agreeable. As of at least 2012, he was trying to have his convictions vacated and get a new trial following a Supreme Court decision that deemed life sentences without parole for juvenile offenders unconstitutional.

Fairley’s argument: The court should have rendered him a minor for sentencing purposes. Even though he committed the double murder at age 21, “a person’s biological process is typically incomplete until the person reaches his or her mid-twenties.”

Caleb Fairley at the time of the trial and in a 2019 mug shot — Caleb Fairley circa 1996 and in a 2019 prison mug shot

That ploy hasn’t worked out, and today, Fairley lives in SCI Fayette, a moderately overcrowded maximum-security prison in Labelle, Pennsylvania. It houses 2,114 inmates but has bed capacity for just 1,826.

As for an update on Lisa’s widower, Jimmy Manderach, it appears he still lives in the same part of Pennsylvania. I make it a practice not to look too hard for up-to-date information about victims’ family members because, unless they show up on Dr. Phil or Dateline, they’re probably not looking for media attention.

(Jimmy Manderach did not appear on the Forensic Files episode.)

Dedication. In 1998, Caleb Fairley’s parents settled a lawsuit filed by Lisa’s mother and Jimmy Manderach for $1.6 million. According to legal documents reported on in the Philadelphia Inquirer in 1998, the Fairleys contended:

“While the circumstances were indeed horrific, the deaths . . . were relatively and mercifully swift, mitigating their conscious pain and suffering.”

That same year, police arrested Caleb’s father, James Fairley, who owned a pharmacy in Phoenixville, for allegedly providing a customer with the painkiller Darvon illegally. Court papers allege he asked the customer for sex in return for the drug.

On a happier note, in 1998, the Limerick Township Park System built the Manderach Memorial Playground in honor of Lisa and Devon.

The township invested an additional $50,000 for new equipment for the playground in 2012. From the looks of its Facebook page, the place is still going strong.

That’s all for this post. For next week, I’m researching a bit about Dungeons and Dragons and whether any game aficionado — or the nature of the pastime itself — has been linked to other major crimes.

Until then, cheers. — RR

Update: Read Part 2.
Book in stores and online!

Please Never Let the Sifrits Out

Deliverance by the Sea
(“Dirty Little Secret,” Forensic Files)

Before going into this week’s recap, I’d like to share some exciting news — Bizarrepedia included True Crime Truant on its “Best True Crime Blogs and Websites” list.

Thanks much to the editors at the popular site for taking the time to check out my blog.

And speaking of all things bizarre, this week’s featured Forensic Files episode involves two people who put the “tan” in “satanic.”

“Dirty Little Secret” tells the story of a double homicide that happened after two middle-class couples met by chance at a bar in seaside getaway Ocean City, Maryland, on May 25, 2002.

Friendly fiends. The four hit it off so well that they went to a club together and then headed back to one couple’s penthouse condo to have more drinks and enjoy the hot tub.

Martha “Genie” Crutchley and her boyfriend, Joshua Ford, had no idea that Erika and Benjamin Sifrit were ghouls.

The friendly, respectable-seeming Sifrits had no criminal records and owned the Memory Laine scrapbooking store in Altoona, Pennsylvania. Erika, who grew up in Pennsylvania, had been a good student and basketball player. Benjamin Sifrit, known as B.J., was a former Navy Seal who graduated first in his class.

Unsuspecting victims. But the sun-loving pair were so horrible I almost don’t want to write about them — except to let the public know which prison they call home and whether or not they have any chance of getting out.

So I’ll make the recap quick (last time I said that, the post ended up 1,228 words long, but this time I really mean it):

Shortly after Genie, a 51-year-old insurance executive, and Joshua, a 32-year-old mortgage broker, got back to the Sifrit’s place in the Rainbow condo complex, their new friends set in motion a thrill kill game so awful that they make Leopold and Loeb seem like humanitarians.

Breastaurant heist. The Sifrits, both 24, terrorized, humiliated, and shot and stabbed to death the innocent couple from Fairfax, Virginia. Then they disposed of their bodies in a macabre fashion.

Fortunately, Genie’s and Joshua’s coworkers quickly reported them missing and detectives found witnesses who recalled seeing them and the Sifrits together on a shuttle bus to the night spot Seacrets.

(During his Forensic Files interview, Detective Scott Bernal described Seacrets as “one of the hottest night clubs in Ocean City.” I didn’t realize there were hot clubs in Maryland.)

The case broke wide open when a silent alarm summoned local police to a Hooters gift shop (yeah, I know). They found Erika and B.J. loading stolen Hooters merchandise into their Jeep.

Mementos. Detectives discovered Erika had the missing couple’s drivers licenses in her purse and found a photo of her wearing Josh’s ring on a chain around her neck — trophies from the kills.

Erika ended up making a deal with prosecutors after investigators built a solid case against the Sifrits, including ballistic (hollow point bullets) and blood evidence in their rented condo.

But the agreement fell apart when it became apparent that Erika participated in the killings to a greater degree than she originally claimed.

She ended up getting the longer sentence, life plus 20 years; the jury convicted her of one count of first-degree and one count of second-degree murder.

B.J. received 38 years after a jury found him guilty of one count of second-degree murder.

By the way, the Sifrits turned against each other at the trial.

So, do these two eastern seaboard versions of Deliverance hillbillies have any chance of tasting salt water and freedom again?

For Erika, probably not.

Drab accommodations. In 2014, U.S. District Court Judge Richard D. Bennett denied her appeal — the last of many she filed over the years — in which she claimed she was mentally ill at the time of the murders, her husband dominated her, and her lawyer, Arch Tuminelli, made errors during the trial.

The judge noted that her “claims are exhausted,” indicating legal avenues for exoneration have closed, according to a Maryland Coastal Dispatch story. (Warning: The article contains some gruesome details I could have lived without knowing.)

Erika, now 39, resides at Maryland Correctional Institution for Women in the town of Jessup.

Her husband, who occupies a cell at Roxbury Correctional Institution in Hagerstown, Maryland, has a much better chance of exiting prison on his two feet.

The homicides took place in a Rainbow condo

Stay gone. A judge gave him the 38-year sentence after lead prosecutor Joel Todd said that B.J. Sifrit “needs to be warehoused because he cannot be rehabilitated.” But the former military man is eligible for parole in 2021, when he’ll be in his mid-40s.

Let’s hope that’s enough time for friends and family members of the victims to plan a letter-writing campaign to keep B.J. Sifrit and his swastika tattoo behind razor wire for as long as possible — which in this case means 2040.

That’s all for this week’s post. Until next week, cheers. — RR

John List: House-Poor Killer

Mass Murderer, Overextended Homeowner
(“The List Murders,” Forensic Files)

Pictures of Breeze Knoll frighten me not only because John List murdered his family there in 1971 but also because, well, think of the electric bill.

Scene of the crime: Breeze Knoll in Westfield, N.J.

I’d hate to see the heating tab for the 19-room mansion that occupied 431 Hillside Avenue in Westfield, New Jersey. Factor in regular maintenance like painting plus the HVAC crises liable to befall a Victorian-era structure, and you’re asking for some none-too-stately financial drama.

According to a letter List left in the house along with the five bodies, he turned to homicide in part to prevent the embarrassment that losing the home would cause his family.

Way roomy. This week’s post will take a look at how List’s predicament compares with the kind of woe that affects homeowners in the new millennium — and particularly after the subprime mortgage crisis.

First, a recap of the Forensic Files episode “The List Murders” with some additional research from the internet.

John and Helen List, both 46, lived with their three teenage children and John’s mother, Alma, in a cavernous home in the affluent Union County town.

The family attended the Redeemer Lutheran Church, where John taught Sunday school.

Too much drama. Although Helen reportedly suffered from the effects of syphilis contracted from her previous husband, the family appeared stable and high-functioning to their friends and neighbors.

What no one knew was that John, an accountant, had trouble holding onto a job. At the time of the murder, John was unemployed. He left the house every morning, pretending to go to work when he was really whiling away time reading or sleeping in the train station.

There were more problems. John felt that his popular, socially active teenagers were neglecting their spiritual needs. It especially bothered him that his eldest, 16-year-old Patricia, was interested in becoming an actress. He thought it improper in the eyes of God.

He worried that she and the rest of the family wouldn’t get into heaven.

Undiscovered jackpot? His anxiety grew with his inability to keep up with mortgage payments and other bills. He was behind by $11,000 on the house and had been secretly dipping into his mother’s accounts.

The family had bought the house for around $50,000 in 1965. It meant living above their means, and List eventually had to take out a second mortgage.

By 1971, List seemed poised for a total financial collapse and didn’t want his wife and kids to bear the shame of going on public assistance.

A couple of sources claim that the ornate house contained a skylight made of Louis Comfort Tiffany stained glass valuable enough to bail List out of his financial problems. But in a pre-Antiques Roadshow world, he didn’t think to get an appraisal and try to sell the glass — if it really existed, that is.

Redefining eerie. By killing his family, he hoped to spare them shame, save their souls, and guarantee they could all spend the afterlife together. He chose not to commit suicide because he considered it a sin.

How do we know all this?

List’s five-page letter, addressed to his pastor, explained everything, including the way he murdered his family.

He waited until his wife and children arrived home one by one, crept up and shot them in the head at close range, and dragged their bodies into the ballroom. His 84-year-old mother, Alma, who lived in an upstairs apartment in the house, received a gunshot, too.

List lowered the temperature in the house, cued up some organ music on the intercom system, and told his kids’ teachers that the family had gone on a trip to North Carolina.

After cashing in his mother’s savings bonds and pocketing the money, he skipped town. He took the name Robert Clark, eventually got an accounting job, and remarried.

Bust the case. Meanwhile, back at Breeze Knoll, investigators found the bodies after neighbors summoned police because they hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave the house in a month.

The authorities couldn’t find List despite a nationally publicized manhunt led by the FBI; the fugitive had given himself too generous a head start.

Oh, and there was no internet back then.

The case turned cold until 18 years later, when then-new TV show America’s Most Wanted commissioned forensic artist Frank Bender to sculpt a bust that “aged” List. Host John Walsh, whose own son had been a murder victim, asked viewers to call in tips.

The effort was 100 percent successful.

Colorado resident Wanda Flanery contacted police about a former neighbor named Bob Clark who had recently moved away to Richmond, Virginia. He resembled the sculpture.

Spooky landmark. List’s subsequent FBI arrest at his accounting office made for scintillating news around the globe and electrified America’s Most Wanted ratings.

At the time, I remember my roommate coming home and asking, “Did you hear they caught John List?” She’d grown up in Westfield, where kids made the List property their No. 1 spooky dare long after the house mysteriously burned down in 1972.

A jury convicted John List on five counts of first-degree murder in 1990. Superior Court Judge William L’E. Wertheimer gave him life without parole.

List died in 2008, a one-of-a-kind killer who disposed of his family amid a dilemma that seems fairly prosaic in light of the last decade or so.

Westfield, where the average house costs $1,057,871 (Coldwell Banker)

Internet research turned up a number of statistics that surely would have provided List with some consolation if he faced his same problems post-2000.

According to Mortgage Bankers Association data cited by the FDIC, lenders foreclose on one in every 200 U.S. homes and one child in every classroom belongs to a family in jeopardy of losing a home because of difficulty meeting mortgage payments.

A 2005 Freddie Mac-Roper poll also flagged by the FDIC concluded that “more than 6 in 10 homeowners delinquent in their mortgage payments are not aware of services that mortgage lenders can offer to individuals having trouble with their mortgage.”

Hardly atypical. The poll also determined that “homeowners fail to contact their lender because they are embarrassed, don’t believe the lender can help, and/or believe it would cause them to lose their home more quickly.”

Any prospective John Lists of the new millennium surely could see that their problems were shared by countless homeowners around the U.S. and the world.

Northwestern University’s Institute for Policy Research found that during the subprime-mortgage-induced Great Recession, 8 million Americans lost their jobs and each year lenders foreclosed on 4 million homes.

Lack of faith. If List simply admitted to his family and creditors and the IRS that he was in crisis, a solution that didn’t involve homicide and pseudonyms could have been hammered out.

Perhaps if List knew back in 1971 that, 45 years in the future, an American who filed for bankruptcy protection four times would nonetheless be elected leader of the free world, he could have sucked it up, started over, and eventually made the List family great again.

That’s all for this post. Until next week, cheers. — RR

Watch the episode on YouTube or Tubi

P.S. If anyone knows what year Breeze Knoll was built, please advise.

Sarah Johnson, a Killer at 16

A Girl Craving Freedom Ends up in Captivity
(“Disrobed,” Forensic Files)

Note: Updated with information from 2020.

“Disrobed” tells the story of a teenager who shot her mother and father after they forbid her to see a guy who sounded at best like a waste of time and at worst like a life ruiner.

Bourgeois privilege? Since a jury convicted Sarah Marie Johnson at age 18 and sent her to prison for life for a crime she committed at 16, an epilogue to her story seems in order.

The justice system tends to show mercy to middle-class convicts who committed their crimes — no matter how awful — as minors.

A fair amount has happened since “Disrobed“ first aired in 2008. But before getting into that, here’s a recap of the episode plus some information from internet research.

Diane Johnson, a 52-year-old tax collector, and her husband, Alan, a 46-year-old landscaper, provided a lovely home for Sarah and her older half-brother, Matt, in Bellevue, a city on the outskirts of Sun Valley, Idaho.

By 2003, Sarah had taken up with a 19-year-old named Bruno Santos. He was a high school dropout suspected of gang membership and drug activity.

He also had a cocky personality. Sarah’s parents found him none-too-endearing.

Happy ending. But Sarah had no intention of letting go of Santos and tried the usual teenage tricks, like telling mom and dad she was sleeping over at a girlfriend’s when she was really with him.

When they found out about one such incident, her parents took away her car and threatened to file charges against Santos for statutory rape.

At some point, Sarah decided to quell the controversy by disposing of her parents.

That way, she and Santos could run off and set up their own love-filled affluent household financed by her parents’ $680,000 life insurance payout and the rest of their estate.

Dressed to kill. According to Disrobed, Sarah was a fan of true crime entertainment. Perhaps she felt she had picked up enough know-how to pull off a double homicide with impunity.

First, Sarah stole a .264 caliber rifle from the guesthouse on her family’s property. The Johnsons rented out the structure to Mel Speegle, an electrician who was out of town at the time of the crime on September 2, 2003.

That morning, Sarah pulled a shower cap over her blond hair, put a pink plush bathrobe on backward, crept into her sleeping mother’s room, and shot her in the head at close range.

Fall planting. Her father ran out of the shower to see what happened. Sarah shot him in the chest.

To suggest gang activity, she placed knives at the foot of her parents’ bed and in her brother’s room. (Matt Johnson was away at the University of Idaho in Moscow at the time.)

She put the rifle’s scope on Speegle’s bed and left the rest of it at the crime scene.

Then she made a beeline for a neighbor’s house and said her parents had been shot by an unseen intruder.

Investigators were probably disappointed to rule out their first suspect, Bruno Santos.

He was arrogant and disrespectful, but they couldn’t connect any of the crime scene evidence to him or his DNA.

Mel Speegle, who Sarah had probably hoped to implicate, gave police a solid alibi.

By this time, Sarah’s lack of sorrow over the tragedy had aroused suspicion.

Evidence galore. Her aunt, Linda Vavold, who appeared on Forensic Files, noted that Sarah seemed more interested in having her fingernails painted than grieving her mother and father’s demise.

And a lot more than innuendo was building up against Sarah. It turned out that she had pretty much left a trail of forensic breadcrumbs for the police to follow.

First, the presence of her mother’s blood and bone fragments on Sarah’s bedroom wall contradicted her story that she was asleep with her door closed when she heard the first shot.

Cap it off. The pink bathrobe that police retrieved from the trash — Sheriff Walt Femling had stopped the garbage truck from picking up the can on the day of the murder — had high-velocity blood splatter from both Diane and Alan Johnson.

Gloves found in the garbage had traces of gun powder residue outside and Sarah’s DNA inside.

Plumbers recovered the shower cap, which Sarah had flushed down the toilet.

As crime scene investigator Rod Englert said during his Forensic Files interview, “The evidence was yelling and screaming.”

Prosecutors charged Sarah with two counts of first-degree murder.

Family affair. At this point, Sarah probably didn’t need any more proof that her fairy tale had gone awry, but she got some anyway: Bruno Santos decided to testify against her in court.

Santos wanted to prove he had nothing to do with the murders.

Sarah’s brother took a turn in the witness chair in the 2005 trial as well, but he didn’t seem to have an agenda.

Matt Johnson said his sister was overdramatic and tended to stretch the truth when it suited her, but he loved her just the same.

Defense lawyer Bob Pangburn uncharitably pointed out that Matt would receive Sarah’s portion of their parents’ insurance money if the jury convicted her.

The prosecution brought in one of Sarah’s cellmates, convicted drug trafficker Malinda Gonzalez, who revealed that, during their jailhouse conversations, Sarah seemed to inadvertently confess.

Aunt no help. As reported by Emanuella Grinberg for Court TV, Gonzalez testified: “One time, she said, ‘When I killed…’ Then she stopped herself and was like, ‘When the killers …'”

Linda Vavold, Diane Johnson’s elder sister, ended up on the prosecution’s side as well. “When we would be discussing Alan and Diane and someone would be upset, [Sarah] would roll her eyes and act disgusted,” Vavold testified.

The five-week trial of the flaxen-haired killer turned into a national sensation. Court TV broadcast the proceedings live from Idaho’s Ada County courthouse.

Sarah received two sentences of life in jail without parole.

Pin it on someone. As far as what’s happening with her today, my initial guess was that Sarah had confessed to the crime already, embraced religion, and was helping inmates in a prison literacy program — and asking the state for mercy since she was young and foolish and evil back in 2003 and regretted her crimes.

Or maybe she would take the Menendez brothers’ route and admit to killing her parents but tell tales about why they deserved it.

Wrong on all counts.

As recently as 2014, Sarah — now 33 years old and prisoner No. 77613 at the Pocatello Women’s Correctional Center — was claiming someone else killed her parents.

She managed to draw the Idaho Innocence Project into her case. They contended that she had ineffective counsel at the first trial.

Her legal team also brought up the fact that the murder weapon carried someone else’s prints (not Sarah’s or Mel Speegle’s).

BF behind bars. But Speegle said that some prints probably came from a friend who had helped him move his things from his ranch to the Johnson guesthouse in 2002.

The Idaho Supreme Court denied Sarah’s petition in a six-page decision in February 2014.

Life has been no dream for the motivation for all this misery, either.

Bruno Santos served some jail time related to drug charges around the time of Sarah’s trial in 2005.

Then, in 2010, Blaine County brought him up on new substance-peddling charges, including the sale of a half pound of methamphetamine to an undercover detective.

The following year, he received a 10-year sentence and earned himself a bunk at the Idaho State Correctional Facility.

Santos, who is allegedly in the U.S. illegally, received parole in May 2018 and could face deportation to Mexico — possibly in 2024, which the Idaho Department of Correction lists as his sentence satisfaction date.

Finally, it should be noted that Idaho released an inmate named Sarah Marie Johnson-Ploghoft in 2018, but she’s not the Sarah Johnson who killed her parents.

That’s all for this post. Until next time, cheers. — RR

4 Ways to Enjoy Forensic Files

Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way to Watch

A South African Forensic Files fan tweeted last week to say he couldn’t watch the show in his country anymore.

CBS Reality, a network that broadcasts in Europe, the Middle East, and Africa, had stopped airing the shows in South Africa.

Deprived of Forensic Files? Now there’s a crime.

I can relate. My access to the show seemed severely limited after I cut the cord about a year ago.

Along with the monthly cable bill of $125.51 to $172.59 (depending on whatever deal Time Warner was offering or yanking away), I also had to say farewell to the HLN TV network — the Forensic Files mother lode.

HLN has daily Forensic Files marathons anywhere from 4 to 12 hours long.

No. 1: HLN is a jackpot for Forensic Files watchers

If you have basic cable in the U.S., chances are you can bask in all the chromatography and rifling impressions patterns you like via HLN’s generous schedule of back-to back Forensic Files. I miss HLN.

Fortunately, there are also many other sources of the show.

Update: Forensic Files exited Netflix on Jan. 1, 2022.

But you can still stream episodes on Pluto, Discovery +, HBO MAX, Hulu, Amazon Prime, and Tubi.

A Hulu logo in green font

You can also find many of the episodes on the internet. Just enter “Forensic Files” and the name of the episode or even just the name of the perpetrator in a browser window, and the right one should materialize.

The producers made a deal to distribute the show on YouTube via a company called FilmRise. So if you see “FilmRise,” you’re watching a legally procured episode.

**No. 3:** Logo means the online episode wasn’t boot-legged

I’m not sure how the picture quality on YouTube rates next to what you see on TV or a streaming service, but I’m happy with it.

Of course, you’ll need a broadband or otherwise expensive internet subscription to watch online. I use Spectrum, which used to be Time Warner Cable. I have nothing nice to say about either of them. Right now, I’m paying $54.88 a month.

The least expensive way to enjoy Forensic Files is via an over-the-air TV station — the kind you get for free, no cable subscription required.

An over-the-air TV station called Escape (Channel No. 33-4 in New York and available in other cities) broadcasts a couple Forensic Files episodes a day.

All you need is an antenna. I use a $29.99 RCA digital one.

It gives pretty much crystal clear reception on Escape and all the other free stations, including the major networks. It was a surprise.

I was expecting the same kind of static and the other types of interference from the old days of rabbit ears.

Most of my quest for Forensic Files has taken place in NYC. If anyone has advice or experience to share about finding Forensic Files elsewhere or via another route, please leave a reader comment and share the wealth.

Someone in the world is sure to appreciate any clues you have to offer.

Until next week, cheers. — RR

Category: Forensic Files

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