Paul Taylor’s Murder of Kathy Woodhouse

He Raped and Killed Before Turning 21
(“Clean Getaway,” Forensic Files)

Forensic Files viewers know the frustration of finding out that the justice system could have prevented a rape and murder if only it doled out a longer sentence the first time the perpetrator committed a sexual assault (Colvin “Butch” Hinton and Thomas Jabin Berry).

Kathy Woodhouse, left, with her daughter. Paul Taylor liked to prey upon petite women double his age

Kathy Woodhouse’s 1992 rape and murder falls into that category. “Clean Getaway,” the episode about the case, mentions that the killer spent some time in a juvenile detention facility before he committed the deadly attack on the mother of three. But the show doesn’t mention what he did to earn his bunk there or why he got out early.

Mysterious ring. For this week, I did some research and learned of the horrible crime he committed at the age of 14. I also looked into his whereabouts today.

So let’s get going on a recap of “Clean Getaway” along with extra information from online sources as well as Murder in the Heartland author Harry Spiller, who gave a phone interview to ForensicFilesNow.com:

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On a Saturday on January 18, 1992, a caller told police that a woman had been raped and murdered in the back of a dry cleaning store in Herrin, Illinois.

Worst case scenario. It sounded like a legitimate concerned-citizen call except for two things: The man didn’t give his name and murders didn’t usually happen in the small town of about 12,000 people in Williamson County.

At first, police believed the call might be a prank.

But when they arrived at Fox’s Laundry and Dry Cleaners, they found a deceased woman beaten about the head, probably with a mop wringer that remained on the scene.

A young Paul Taylor

Pandemonium. The murder victim was Kathy Ann Woodhouse, a 40-year-old Herrin native who had three kids ranging in age from 13 to 22 and had been married to Joe Woodhouse for 18 years.

After hearing that something out of the ordinary had happened at Fox’s, Kathy Woodhouse’s mother headed to the scene.

“I saw all these cops around and they wouldn’t let me go inside,” Sybil East later recalled, adding that Kathy’s employer had been planning to transfer her to a store in Marion in just a couple of days.

Not a ‘secrete.’ Police questioned a customer who had left a check for $14.30 on the counter and retrieved her own dry-cleaning..

She gave a police artist a description of the tall white man who poked his head out of the backroom and asked if she needed help as she was exiting the store. The customer guessed the man’s age at 30 to 35.

Police believe Paul Taylor entered the dry-cleaning store shortly after Kathy Woodhouse opened it up in the morning

Unfortunately, lab work on semen recovered from the victim revealed it came from a nonsecretor — someone whose bodily fluids carry no indications of blood type.

Locals shaken. A fingerprint found on the payphone used to make the 911 call didn’t match that of any known offender.

In the meantime, state police Captain William Barrett warned the rattled community to stay alert but not give in to “excess hysteria.”

Early on, police got a tip that threw them off course — and probably mortified a slightly perverted young customer. Kathy had told a friend that an anonymous man called the store and asked what color toenail polish she was wearing.

Nailed. Investigators tracked down the gentleman via phone records. Under police questioning, the suspect, a 25-year-old construction worker, disclosed that he knew Kathy from visiting the store and eventually admitted he made the call. He said it was something he liked to do every so often, but he had no involvement in the murder.

Kathy and Joe Woodhouse with their children. The eldest came from Kathy’s first marriage

Luckily for him, he had an alibi that checked out.

Next up, an anonymous source suggested that the police look at a local man named Paul E. Taylor.

Odds against him. Paul, who was just 20 years old, had led a turbulent life. His parents divorced when he was 2 and his mother was reportedly an alcoholic. She remarried, to a man named Douglas Jackson, and he allegedly would physically assault her and verbally abuse young Paul.

“It’s my understanding that as he grew up and in school, he was picked on because he was extremely poor,” said Harry Spiller.

Paul also ran away and spent some time in a foster home.

By his mid-teens, he had landed at the Louisiana Training Institute, a detention facility for juveniles. But his offenses were way more serious than vandalizing cars or shooting garden gnomes with a BB gun.

Savage teen. In 1984, at the age of 14, Paul entered the women’s bathroom at a Baton Rouge hotel that was hosting a school administrators conference. He grabbed an attendee named Sandra Lott while she was drying her hands, according to court papers.

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After dragging her to a stall, the teenager brandished a butcher knife, told her to take off her clothes, and sexually assaulted her; he made a failed attempted at penetration. When another woman entered the bathroom, he threatened to kill Sandra Lott if she made a sound.

Next, Paul let Sandra dress, forced her to go to a nearby field with high grass, and made her disrobe a second time. The victim, who weighed 84 pounds, said she suddenly realized that if he raped her, he would probably kill her. Sandra fled and got help from a man who gave her his coat and alerted police.

Guess who’s out. Paul evaded capture at first — no one knew his identity yet — but two weeks later, authorities arrested a male who trespassed in the same women’s bathroom. Sandra Lott confirmed him as her attacker.

Harry Spiller during his appearance on Forensic Files

Despite the severity of his assault on Sandra, Paul got a sentence for only the “remainder of his juvenile life,” that is, until he turned 21. He spent the time at both the Louisiana Training Institute, now known as the Jetson Center for Youth, and the low-security Ponchatoula Police Jail.

But Judge Kathleen Stewart Richey let him out a few months early after psychologists said he had made “maximum progress” and recognized the seriousness of his crime. He had a job lined up, and Illinois officials had assured the judge that parole officers would supervise the young man on the outside.

Free to flip burgers. After his release, he moved in with his mother two blocks from the future murder scene, and began working at Hardee’s.

The fast food restaurant used Fox’s to clean employee uniforms.

Paul’s manager at Hardee’s told police that Paul had just quit and had said he planned to return to Louisiana. The law nabbed him as he was leaving a Van Halen concert with friends.

Forensic Files stated that Paul Taylor’s appearance surprised authorities because he didn’t look like the artist’s sketch — but I disagree. The drawing lacked the mustache Paul wore in real life, but the facial features, especially the nose, were very similar. (The composite looked more convincing than the police sketch used to wrongfully convict Richard Alexander of rape.)

Paul Taylor was living in this house on South 16th Street when he murdered Kathy Woodhouse

Nylons afoot. Many YouTube viewers who saw Paul Taylor’s photo expressed surprise that he was only 20 (“in dog years,” wrote Poelo Mokgotho19).

Whatever the case, a partial pair of pantyhose Paul hid under his bed looked similar to a piece of hosiery found near the murder scene. His palm print matched an impression left on a plastic bag near Kathy’s body.

Prosecutors alleged that Paul pulled pantyhose over his face, forced Kathy Woodhouse into the backroom and raped her.

Disturbed dialer. When he heard the customer come in, he took off his stocking mask and greeted her to make sure she wouldn’t come to the backroom, they contended. Then, the 6-foot-2-inch-tall rapist killed Kathy because she could have identified him.

Paul had robbed her purse of $3.

So why did he call the police to report the murder and rape?

“Sometimes you get people — especially the psychos — who think they’re smarter than everyone else,” Harry Spiller told ForensicFilesNow.com. “They have a tendency to think ‘I did it. You can’t catch me.’ You’ve heard about serial killers who write letters to the police.”

Curse in the courtroom. Under questioning, Paul Taylor confessed to the robbery and murder. Later, he reluctantly admitted that he raped Kathy Woodhouse, too.

Still, the case went to trial. In addition to Sandra Lott, the prosecution had Linda Schott, the accused’s first cousin, as a witness.

Paul audibly grumbled the word “bitch” as Linda took the stand. She told the court that he propositioned her for sex and mailed her threatening letters after she declined. He signed his name to the letters and wrote his return address on the envelopes.

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Manson wannabe. A prison employee testified that he overheard Paul bragging to another inmate about the murder. Paul said he tried complimenting Kathy Woodhouse on her looks and said her jeans “were like a second skin.” He also confessed to the other prisoner that he “had to have her.” And once he had her, he “didn’t want her anymore” so he murdered her, and his only regret was not wearing gloves, according to the witness.

Paul Taylor definitely had loose lips. Linda Schott testified that Paul told her that he considered Charles Manson his idol and wanted to gather himself a band of followers.

On the defense’s side of the aisle, there was clinical psychologist David Warshauer. He testified that Paul Taylor suffered from alcohol abuse, depression, antisocial personality disorder, and schizotypal personality disorder.

Mother fumes. Nonetheless, on cross-examination, Warshauer admitted that Paul probably knew right from wrong.

For Kathy Woodhouse’s 77-year-old mother, Sybil East — who often held hands with older daughter Nancy Burlison during the trial — the proceedings were an exercise in terse self-control.

“In the courtroom, I couldn’t cry,” Sybil told the Southern Illinoisan years later. “I was just so angry. I wanted to kill him.”

Chamber closes. For a while, it looked as though she might get to see him perish. On Oct. 15, 1992, a jury decided that the case against Paul contained no mitigating factors that would preclude capital punishment. Paul “stared intently” as jurors individually confirmed the decision, according to a Southern Illinoisan account.

Paul Taylor, then 21, received a sentence of death by lethal injection.

But in 2003, Gov. George Ryan gave a blanket commutation to all 167 convicts on death row in Illinois because of inequities in the legal system.

Husband lawyers up. Paul ended up resentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole — and he declared that he would stop appealing and resign himself to life behind razor wire unless Illinois reinstates his death sentence.

He later said he had no remorse for the murder but didn’t realize Kathy Woodhouse left three children behind and felt sympathy for them.

In December 1992, Kathy’s widower and children filed suit against Louisiana for letting Paul Taylor out of the juvenile facility early. The release enabled Paul to murder Kathy, they contended. (Of course, if the state kept him until he was 21, he probably would have raped and murdered someone else.)

He got lots of ink. Today, Paul Taylor resides in the Illinois River Correctional Center, a medium-security facility in Canton.

The Illinois Department of Corrections’ website states clearly that the 230-pound inmate — whose collection of tattoos includes a smiley face, a dog, and a rose — is ineligible for parole.

Paul Taylor in a recent mug shot

No word on how the Woodhouses fared with the lawsuit, but the family took comfort in an outpouring of support from friends and neighbors. The Southern Illinoisan published a letter written by Frank Starkweather, the minister of the Christian Life Center, where the Woodhouses attended services, to thank the community for its kindness.

Author, author. According to older sister Nancy Burlison, Kathy Woodhouse had experienced a religious awakening in early adulthood.

“Everyday life is so mundane and boring,” Kathy once said. “I want to live in the heavens.”

That’s all for this post. Coming up next week is a Q&A with Harry Spiller, who has studied Paul Taylor’s homicide case and written a set of books on true crime in the Midwest.

Until then, cheers. RR


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Frank Cullotta: YouTube Star, COVID-19 Victim

A Former Hitman Survived the Mob But Not the Coronavirus

Just a quick post this week as we take a sabbatical from Forensic Files and head to the Casino. Fans of the Martin Scorsese film probably already know that all three major real-life characters portrayed in the 1995 movie are long dead.

In his glory days, Frank Cullotta, scene with his wife Elaine, owned the Upper Crust, a pizza restaurant popular with Las Vegas performers
In his glory days, Frank Cullotta, seen with his wife, Elaine, owned the Upper Crust, an intimate pizza restaurant popular with Las Vegas performers

Frank “Lefty” Rosenthal (called Sam Rothstein on screen), the sports-betting expert, onetime talk-show host, and casino executive, cashed in his chips forever at the age of 79 in 2008.

His wife, dancer Geri McGee (Ginger McKenna), and gangster friend Tony Spilotro (Nicky Santoro) met their end years before the film even started production.

One of the supporting characters, however, not only survived but also scored his own online franchise — before succumbing to COVID-19 at the age of 81 on Thursday, Aug. 20, 2020.

Geri McGee Rosenthal and Sharon Stone
The character based on Geri Rosenthal was played by Sharon Stone. In real life, Geri had two daughters and a son

Frank Cullotta, a self-admitted thief, thug, and hitman, parleyed his connection with Tony Spilotro — who was tortured and buried alive in 1986 after he angered his mob bosses — into a gig as a historian of local organized-crime in Chicago and Las Vegas from the 1950s to the 1980s.

Cullotta, played by Frank Vincent in Casino, avoided prison time via the transactional immunity he received for cooperating with authorities investigating his associates.

Before his own demise, Cullotta created a hit YouTube channel where he reminisced about his life as a gangster and provided backstories surrounding Tony Spilotro as well as the Rosenthals, whose marriage was a power struggle marked by infidelity, marathon fights, and conciliatory jewelry-giving.

Joe Pesci and Tony Spilotro
Joe Pesci portrayed the character based on Tony Spilotro

In addition to the success of his series, known as Coffee with Cullotta or Alotta Cullotta, an interview he granted VLAD-TV has garnered 290,217 page views. For 90 minutes, Cullotta recounts how he and Spilotro began their relationship as rival shoe shine boys in Chicago and later moved to Las Vegas to help protect Rosenthal and enforce mob rule in casinos. Highlights include new details on the Casino vise-torture scene (gorier in real life) and an account of the failed Bertha jewelry store robbery that ultimately resulted in Cullotta’s switch to the feds’ side.

The Coffee with Cullotta episodes last around 22 minutes each. Here are links to a few you’ll want to drink in:

Coffee with Cullotta 1
Highlights: Cullotta clarifies his status as a not-so-made man, discusses just how fat Herbert “Fat Herbie” Blitzstein was, and speculates on who planted a bomb in Rosenthal’s Cadillac.
Real life vs. movie: Rosenthal survived the car explosion only because he hadn’t closed the driver’s-side door yet.

Coffee with Cullotta 17
Highlights: Cullotta discusses why he never liked Frank Rosenthal and details an aborted plan to assassinate him. He also confirms that Geri Rosenthal had an affair with Tony Spilotro.
Real life vs. movie: Frank Rosenthal, portrayed by the olive-complexioned Robert De Niro in the movie, actually resembled a “skeleton walking around with white skin draped over it.”

A paramedic attends to Frank Rosenthal's injuries minutes after a bomb blew up in his car in 1982
A paramedic attends to Frank Rosenthal’s burn injuries minutes after a bomb blew up his Eldorado in 1982

Coffee with Cullotta 27
Highlights: Cullotta recounts the impoverishment of Tony Spilotro’s widow and how the film studio’s makeup department gave Joe Pesci a Spilotro-worthy hairdo.
Real life vs. movie: Tony Spilotro didn’t switch cars in underground garages and he wasn’t really the hit man who ended Tamara Rand’s life and lawsuit.

Local Las Vegas news organizations noted that Cullotta was already grappling with a number of other health problems when COVID-19 struck.

Farewell to Frank Cullotta, a bad guy who helped put some of his old associates out of business for good.

If you’re interested in learning more about the huge cast of real-life characters — only some of whom were represented in the movie — the influence of the mob in Las Vegas, and the day-to-day operations of a betting palace, you’ll enjoy the nonfiction book Casino: Love and Honor in Las Vegas by Nicholas Pileggi.

But don’t take my word for it — I’ve only read it seven times.

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


Watch the Martin Scorsese film Casino on Hulu

Richard Dean White’s Explosive Crimes

A Mentally Ill Man Terrorizes Churches
(“Holy Terror,” Forensic Files)

The Forensic Files episode about Richard Dean White’s bomb attacks ends with a suicide rather than a trial and a prison sentence.

Brian Plawer
Murder victim Brian Plawer was closing a door to eliminate a draft when he spotted an object just outside his church

White’s death saved Vermilion County the expense and drama of prosecuting him for planting explosives in two Illinois churches in 1997 and 1998.

“Holy Terror,” the episode about White, explains that he committed the crimes out of disgruntlement after one of the religious organizations denied him membership. But the show leaves another question largely unanswered.

Suspicious box. How did churchgoers react to sudden terror and contend with what happened in the aftermath?

For this week, I looked for some answers, so let’s get going on the recap of the episode along with information from internet research:

On Dec. 30, 1997, a popular Sunday School teacher named Brian Plawer noticed a green object outside the Oakwood United Methodist Church. He had been helping with the church’s newsletter that day.

Drama outside. Brian, a 46-year-old father of three who worked as a superintendent of Kickapoo State Park, touched or moved the item, triggering an explosion that killed him.

The blast was quiet enough that the attendees listening to Rev. Bill Adams’ sermon inside didn’t know anything had happened until a messenger whispered the news into Adams’ ear.

“We went out the back door and immediately saw Brian lying on his right side,” the victim’s wife, Wanda Plawer, told the News-Gazette. “I could see that he had wounds on his left arm, but there wasn’t any blood. I knew his heart had stopped. I ran over to him and knelt beside him.”

Sourced from Walmart. If there’s anything fortunate about a homicide caused by an explosion, it’s that local authorities can get help from the Feds.

Agents from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives identified a green fragment of plastic at the scene as part of an Igloo 12 cooler model sold only at Walmart. The remnants of a pipe bomb included 30-gauge blue insulated silver-coated copper wire that probably came from a local Radio Shack (Mark Hoffmann, David Copenhefer).

Richard Dean White’s license

Meanwhile, the police had received an intriguing anonymous tip: They should check out Oakwood High School students Jimmy Morris and Phil Ryan (it’s unclear whether those are their real names or pseudonyms used because of their young ages).

Powder-keg potential. A Radio Shack employee recalled seeing Jimmy, 18, in the store but couldn’t remember what he bought. In their police interviews, Jimmy and Phil, 16, changed their stories about their whereabouts at the time of the bombing, then ratted each other out. Each said that the other owned a green cooler.

Investigators found out Jimmy and Phil enjoyed Dungeons and Dragons, a role-playing game sometimes scapegoated when its devotees commit crimes.

A story about homicidal teenage D&D enthusiasts could have turned into a global sensation, but before any serious hype ignited, there was a new attack with a larger and louder bomb.

Mess and mayhem. On May 24, 1998, an explosion tore through the First Assembly of God Church at 428 N. Walnut St. in Danville.

One member said at first he thought lightning hit the roof.

“I heard all this screaming and praying,” church youth group member Amanda Brady told the Chicago Tribune. “Everything was white at first and you couldn’t see too well. It was all in my mouth. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Apocalypse not yet. Nicole Lewis Miller recalled that she was praying with her eyes closed when all of a sudden the sun shone through a 20-x-20-foot hole in the western wall.

“I’m thinking it’s the rapture or the end of the world. Then, I saw my friends bleeding and it dawned on me that something’s not right,” Nicole told the Commercial-News in 2018. She herself suffered a fractured temporal bone and severed nerve; she needed a blood transfusion and multiple surgeries.

The First Assembly of God Church after the explosion

Rev. Dennis Rogers, who found himself thrown to the floor, managed to reach his microphone and instruct everyone to leave via the back doors.

Kids all right. In all, the blast injured 33 people, some of whom had shrapnel embedded in their faces; one girl had a nail travel through her leg. A boy suffered hearing loss and said he periodically found splinters in his shoulder years after the incident.

This time, teenage suspects Jimmy and Ryan had solid alibis. The two said their previous accusations against each other were just an extension of D&D.

Meanwhile, investigators started getting reports about a suspicious individual spotted near the first bombing site. He was Richard Dean White, a 39-year-old man with a German Shepherd for a best friend.

Weighty subject. White, who weighed 300 pounds, had a history of struggling with paranoid schizophrenia, which led to his discharge from the army, where he reached the level of sergeant. Over the years, he checked in and out of a number of psychiatric treatment facilities. An unnamed associate who appeared on FF said White imagined demons beneath the floor.

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A neighbor would later describe White as a “weird” man who wore flip-flops to ride his motorcycle and didn’t seem to have a job, the Associated Press reported.

Some other churchgoers recalled White as strange and withdrawn and neighbors described him as melancholy and depressed, according to a Chicago Tribune account.

Short marriage. “He was an okay guy until he shorted out, then he’d go on a rampage,” an unnamed acquaintance told the Journal and Courier.

Nonetheless, at one juncture in his life, White got his illness under control for long enough to snag a spouse and find work at a General Motors plant.

Forensic Files criminals seem to enjoy buying components at Radio Shack

But his wedded bliss lasted only six months and he lost his job.

Car thievery. At some point, the First Assembly of God Church turned down his bid for membership, although he reportedly continued to attend services there off and on. An unidentified source interviewed on FF said that White’s psychiatric problems probably contributed to the rejection.

Even before the bombings, White had a troublesome legal history. He got two years of probation after attempting to steal a Corvette from a Chevrolet dealership in Danville in 1987. A weapons charge prompted the state to revoke his gun permit. He sometimes used the name Richard D. Shotts in order to get around firearms laws.

White lived with his mother (or grandmother, depending on whose version of the story you read) and his teenage daughter at 203 Grace Street in Danville.

Best friend goes with him. Soon, the law began to close in on White. According to a Chicago Sun-Times account, when police called his home, White’s grandmother answered, saying, “He’s here now. Why don’t you come over?”

First Assembly of God Church shown intact and with the blast hole
The bomber placed the explosive on an air conditioner just outside the First Assembly of God Church, but it ripped the building open and injured dozens inside

She woke up Richard to let him know company was on the way.

As authorities knocked on the Whites’ front door, they heard a bomb go off in the garage. They found a decapitated Richard Dean White with his arm around his dog.

Dress rehearsal. In the rubble, they discovered pipe bomb components that matched those from the explosive device found at the Danville crime scene.

They also uncovered a second, intact explosive device in the wreckage.

Investigators believe White’s goal was to bomb the First Assembly of God Church because of the rejection and that he planted the smaller device at the Methodist church first as a test or perhaps to divert attention from his real target. White’s ex-wife belonged to the Methodist church, but police ultimately concluded that White had targeted no specific victim in either attack.

Widow’s grief. But what about the emotional toll of the bombings on the victims?

For the wife of the only person killed, the pain stayed fresh over the years.

“No matter how good of an imagination you have, if you haven’t experienced it, the reality is 100 times worse,” Wanda Plawer said of Brian Plawer’s death at the Oakwood United Methodist Church. “You just force yourself to get through each day… but the hole that’s left by Brian is still there. You just learn to live around it.”

Wanda Plawer
Today, Wanda Plawer works for the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

Remorse for bomber’s treatment. Citizens of Danville, the town where the second bombing happened, reacted with shock, an “eye for an eye” sentiment, and paranoia, according to a St. Louis Post-Dispatch account published a few months after the bombing.

Or, as Journal and Courier reporter Mark Rahner put it, “The town’s face has gotten a few more lines on it.”

Nonetheless, members of the First Assembly of God Church, which had dozens of injuries but no fatalities, dealt with the attack via reconstruction, forgiveness, and regret for not helping White before he turned to violence and terror.

“Here’s a man raised in the city of Danville and I wonder what our church and other churches could have done or should have done to have given him a better perspective on life,” said First Assembly of God’s Rev. Rogers, as reported in the Chicago Tribune.

Good will. Rogers officiated at Richard Dean White’s funeral and told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch that White’s family deserved sympathy regardless of his guilt or innocence.

“The kids that were hurt were saying prayers for the person who did it,” church member Nancy Richards told the Post-Dispatch.

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After the bombing, church members increased their donations to pay for $30,000 in repairs. They managed to salvage a stained-glass window with a large dove image.

Membership intact. On the 10-year anniversary of the bombing, Rev. David Rumley told his congregation, “We want to be remembered as not the church that was bombed, but as the church that has compassion and does things for other people,” according to a News-Gazette account.

The church has since maintained the same number of members but changed its name to The Assembly.

No word, however, on whether it’s changed its membership policy, which some Forensic Files viewers decried on YouTube.

Prejudice amid the pews. As Mike Aftos wrote:

“You need a membership to join a church! Goes to show how misled Americans are.”

Or as Chris Fox typed:

“And then Jesus said, ‘You must fill out form 2-7b in order to be a member of my congregation.'”

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


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Tracey Frame’s Murder of David Nixon

A Charismatic Real Estate Agent Meets His End
(“Separation Anxiety,” Forensic Files)

Tech snafu: If the pictures aren’t visible in this post, read it here

When it came to brokering deals on houses, David Nixon had great instincts. He “could sell a screen door to a submarine,” according to one friend.

Donna and David Nixon at their wedding
David Nixon’s first wife, Donna, described him as vivacious and fond of surprises

In the 1990s, the personable 6-foot-4-inch Texan’s name dotted the Fort Worth Star-Telegram‘s real estate ads, where he advertised homes with “commercial grade appliances” and “pool & cabana.”

Early exit. By the millennium, he was collecting commissions on million-dollar spreads.

But he didn’t always make the right decisions when managing his money or his personal relationships, and it ultimately cost him his life at age 40.

For this week, I looked for additional information on the case and whether Tracey Frame — the younger woman who cut down David Nixon in the early years of his mid-life crisis — is still in prison. So let’s get going on the recap for “Separation Anxiety,” the 2010 episode of Forensic Files, along with extra information drawn from internet research:

Friendly skies. In 1990, David Nixon married Donna Lella and they had a son the following year.

They enjoyed a happy union until David began an affair with a big-haired flight attendant referred to as Lisa Hill on TV and Lisa Hemby in court papers.

After divorcing Donna, he married Lisa. That relationship lasted for just a couple years, and things had turned so stormy toward the end that David obtained a temporary protective order against Lisa.

Making a splash. Soon after, he met Tracey Frame at a party. A number of sources give her occupation as accountant, but she was really a bookkeeper who had taken some accounting classes and liked to tell people she was a CPA, according to Detective Larry Hallmark’s interview on the “Tracey Frame” episode of Snapped.

Lisa Hill
Lisa Hill invoked her Fifth Amendment rights when questioned about Nixon, but she was cleared of anything to do with his death

Whatever the case, David found her crystal green eyes and confident personality irresistible, and they settled into a house on Pecan Hollow Court in Grapevine, an upscale lakeside community known for socializing, boat-riding, and general high living.

Tracey Frame in her youth
Tracey Frame in her youth

Tracey and David were a popular, fun-loving couple, but they began arguing about money a lot, according to acquaintances.

Uncle Sam in pursuit. Despite that he bought Tracey a Lexus and took her on ocean cruises, she reportedly resented the child support he paid Donna for their son, Nicholas.

The finances behind Tracey and David’s shared home aren’t completely clear, but one report said that she had contributed about $80,000 of her own money toward the four-bedroom three-bathroom abode and he paid for the rest. (Not sure of the purchase price in 2002, but the house is worth $488,000 today, according Zillow.)

At the same time, David was also around $100,000 in debt to the IRS and, as Forensic Files watchers know, folks who owe money to the government sometimes turn to inadvisable solutions (Amy Bosley) instead of sucking it up and finding a way to pay off their tax bill.

Cops called. In David Nixon’s case, he attempted to shield his house by putting it in Tracey’s name. But once their relationship deteriorated, she intended to keep the property all to herself.

The red brick house Tracey frame and David Nixon
Tracey was reportedly afraid she’d have to move into an apartment instead of staying at the house with its covered patio and heated pool at 3344 Pecan Hollow Court

On April 9, 2002, he called 911 for help after he came home to find she had changed the locks. “Basically, it’s my house,” he told the operator. “I was dumb enough to put it in my girlfriend’s name.”

Tracey eventually allowed him in the house that night, and the visit from the police ended in no arrests.

Off the radar screen. Little did David Nixon know that Tracey had far more insidious plans to ensure she could stay ensconced at the 2,647-square-feet residence in Grapevine.

On April 20, 2002, Donna Lella called police after David skipped a dinner date with Nicholas, then age 10, and didn’t answer his phone.

David and Nicholas Nixon
David Nixon’s son, Nicholas, seen here as an infant, said he liked Tracey Frame at first but ultimately came to believe in her guilt

No one remembered seeing David Nixon after April 18, 2002, when he showed a property in Southlake to a prospective buyer, according to the Fort Worth Star-Telegram.

Horrifying sight. Four days later, a motorist alerted emergency services of a fire in the parking lot of an abandoned building in Grand Prairie, Texas.

Police found a burning body wrapped in blue camping tarp and a blanket with fibers characteristic of electric blankets; gasoline had been used as an accelerant.

It looked as though someone tried to stuff his body into a drainpipe at the scene, failed, and then left him there to burn beyond recognition.

Chief suspect. An investigator would later tell 48 Hours Mystery‘s “Secrets and Lies on Grapevine Lake” that the blaze consumed the body to such a degree that he couldn’t tell whether it was male or female. Dental records identified the remains as those of David Nixon.

Tracey Frame
Tracey Frame around 2005, just before her trial

Although Forensic Files made the investigation into the murder sound like a long haul with early leads centering on second wife Lisa as well as Donna — whose son would be receiving David’s $500,000 insurance payout — the police actually arrested Tracey Frame just a few days after the body turned up.

“Once everybody heard that David was missing, I don’t think there was a soul who didn’t say, ‘Tracey did something,'” his friend Karl Ekonomy later told Snapped.

Seat shifter. Donna Lella told 48 Hours Mystery that David had a premonition Tracey would kill him.

Investigators would ultimately conclude that Tracey shot David in his sleep, then wrapped him in the electric blanket and tarp. In the house, police had found electric blanket controls without the blanket.

She used a hand truck to move his body — he weighed nearly 100 pounds more than she did — into a rented Penske moving vehicle, and abandoned his white Lexus in a Tom Thumb supermarket parking lot, investigators alleged. The driver’s seat had been moved forward, as though someone shorter than 6-foot-4 had driven it; Tracey is 5-foot-7.

Penske problem. Employees from H&H Janitorial Supply told police a woman matching Tracey’s description came into their store to buy cleansers and asked how to get blood out of her carpet. They suggested trying muriatic acid.

Next, investigators found video footage of a woman who looked like Tracey buying muriatic acid at the Tom Thumb supermarket. She used her customer loyalty card when she paid. (Forensic Files, Snapped, and 48 Hours Mystery all made a big deal of how cheap Tracey was to risk getting caught to save less than 50 cents on her purchase but, to be fair, getting out your plastic discount card is pretty much an automatic reflex these days.)

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Additional security footage caught Tracey parking David’s Lexus in the lot and also leaving the Penske truck there, presumably because it would have raised suspicions to have it parked in front of her house for a long period of time.

Get your story straight. And Tracey seemed to know, before anyone told her, that David’s body suffered trauma. When authorities informed Tracey about the murder, her first words were, “How did they identify him?” according to trial reporting from the Fort Worth Star-Telegram.

An unregistered small-caliber gun that David kept in the house was missing and Tracey had recently bought a new mattress.

David Nixon’s family members heading into the courtroom to observe the trial

It also came out that Tracey had given varying explanations for why David disappeared. She told Donna Lella that he had gone on vacation, but told an investigator he had moved and was working out of state. When Gary Yarbrough, the managing director of David’s real estate office, asked about his whereabouts, Tracey said she had no idea.

Speak ill of the dead. On the police video of her initial interrogation, Tracey came off as weepy and pathetic, but she was confident and articulate three years later in her interviews with 48 Hours Mystery, which covered the case from pretrial (Tracey had been free on $100,000 bail with an electronic ankle bracelet since 2002) to conclusion.

At the 2005 trial, a buddy of the victim, John Hartenbower, testified that their friendship dwindled after he got involved with Tracey Frame. The prosecution alleged that Tracey interfered with David’s other relationships.

Tracey’s defense claimed the woman in the security footage wasn’t Tracey and that someone else had used her customer loyalty card at the Tom Thumb. Her side also tried some smear-the-victim tactics, alleging that David was involved with prostitutes and had gambling debts that might have prompted someone to kill him.

New Man in Her Life. Team Tracey contended that Jerry Vowell, a used car salesman who owed money to David, might have killed him to cancel the debt. (Vowell said on TV that he had repaid David.) Or maybe an anonymous robber killed David, who often walked around with large amounts of cash on his person, according to Tracey.

Tracey’s new fiancé, a British dentist named Roland Taylor, maintained she was nothing like the intimidating shrew the prosecution portrayed. He would later tell 48 Hours Mystery that Tracey had a strong motive to keep David alive because he owed her money. He also said Tracey was a sweet person who just wanted to “love and be loved.”

In March 2005, a jury took four hours to convict Tracey Frame, then 35, of first-degree murder. She got 40 years and will be eligible for parole after 20.

She lost an appeal in 2006.

Tracey Frame in prison
Tracey Frame in a prison interview shortly after her conviction

Sweet gig? Today, Tracey Ann Frame resides in the William P. Hobby Unit in Marlin, Texas. Although she will have a shot at parole, her Texas Department of Criminal Justice record makes no mention of a date, but it notes that she’s eligible for visitation.

“Hobby” seems an apt name for the institution because it offers prisoners opportunities to work in a peach orchard or with horses or security dogs.

Her release date is Sept. 29, 2044, when she’ll be 74 years old.

You can watch the 48 Hours Mystery about the case on YouTube (thank you to reader Kattrinka for sending in the new link).

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


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Joanne Chambers and Paula Nawrocki: Strange Lesson

One Teacher Sabotages Another
(Forensic Files, “Sealed with a Kiss”)

Note: Updated with information from fall 2024

The “Sealed with a Kiss” story differs from most other Forensic Files episodes in that it involves no violence.

Joanne Chambers

If fact, no one touched anyone or stole anything during the extended course of the criminal activity.

Bad Barbie. But it’s a sordid case just the same, and the episode features on-camera interviews with both the accused and the victim, who ultimately trade places.

The drama kicked off when someone began menacing Joanne Chambers — a teacher admired for her warm, unconventional approach to her job — with threatening letters, offensive photos and, yes, a voodoo Barbie doll.

The episode was produced back in 1997, when Forensic Files still went by the name Medical Detectives, so for this week, I looked around to find out what happened to Joanne Chambers and whether she’s retained any of the respect she earned as a teacher before things got weird.

So, let’s get going on the recap of “Sealed with a Kiss” along with extra information from internet research.

Positive reinforcement. In 1993, Joanne Chambers and Paula Nawrocki both taught first grade at the Coolbaugh Learning Center, which sounds like a for-profit tutoring business, but was actually a public school in Pennsylvania’s Poconos region.

Joanne, 41, lived in Carbondale with her husband, who owned a painting business, and her 10-year-old son.

She taught first-grade reading and liked to make school fun and nurturing. Joanne did entertaining things like dressing up pillars to look like palm trees. She ended each class with the words, “You are wonderful and beautiful. You make my heart happy,” according to Redbook magazine.

Students and parents loved her.

Poison pen. Paula Nawrocki, who had started working for the district in 1975, was stricter and more formal in her teaching but was well-respected, too. The Allentown Morning Call would later write that Paula “had a record as clean as a new chalkboard.”

Paula Nawrocki

That seemed to change when the principal of the school where both women worked started receiving anonymous letters trashing Joanne. Pretty soon, Joanne herself began getting the disturbing missives and other teachers did, too.

So started a strange and upsetting period lasting 18 months.

Tawdry collages. All the letters disparaged Joanne. At first, they simply mocked her, criticizing her for wearing jeans at school and organizing a faculty water fight.

They progressed to calling the soft-spoken Joanne a bitch and claiming she smoked marijuana.

Other letters accused Joanne of child molestation and threatened to drag her into the woods and torture her to death. The tormenter pasted Joanne’s face on nude pictures in sex scenes, then sent them to parents and posted them out in the open.

Someone planted a whiskey bottle in her desk drawer.

J’accuse. Joanne told police that she cut her hand after the anonymous evildoer placed a razor blade under her car door handle — and later sent her a typed note saying, “You’re sliced.” She needed eight stitches to close the wound on her right middle finger.

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As the campaign of terror waged on, Joanne received sympathy and concern from her colleagues.

Perhaps a bit overzealous in their efforts to find the culprit, officials called a faculty meeting in March 1994 and told teachers that the menacer “is someone sitting in this room.”

Secret audio. Soon, a solid clue came to light when video footage caught Paula Nawrocki entering Joanne’s classroom and removing Joanne’s mug, which immediately made her a suspect because the anonymous letter-writer had threatened to poison Joanne’s coffee.

When questioned, Paula explained that Joanne had asked her to retrieve the mug. She also allegedly said something to the effect of “You’ll never prove it’s me.” That sounded fishy to Coolbaugh Township Police Chief Anthony Fluegel.

The police wired up Joanne and had her talk to Paula about the terror campaign in hopes that something incriminating would slip out.

Lie detector. But it didn’t work. Paula said nothing incriminating on the tape, and in fact expressed sympathy: “Joanne, I can’t, I can’t imagine how this person can do what they’re doing,” Nawrocki said on the recording. “We are all amazed, Joanne, that you can be surviving through the whole thing.”

Some of the offending materials anonymously sent and posted

But when both women took polygraph tests, Paula failed. Joanne passed.

Next up, Paula consented to having her house searched. That helped her a little. Examination proved that her typewriter wasn’t the one used to send the frightening letters.

Domestic melodrama. Meanwhile, the school had received the aforementioned Barbie, which someone had dressed and coiffed to look like Joanne, then stuck a razor blade in the neck and drizzled with red paint.

“I said good-bye to my husband like I wanted him to remember me saying good-bye,” Joanne told Forensic Files. “I lived every day thinking that it was truly possible that it could be my last.”

Next up, Joanne told police that Paula Nawrocki had tailgated her and tried to run her off the road on I-380.

Press picks it up. That alleged offense was enough for authorities to arrest Paula for the entire horror campaign — 100 counts, including making terroristic threats, stalking, and recklessly endangering life.

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Paula’s husband, Leonard Nawrocki, who worked as an inspector for the Department of Environmental Protection, would years later tell the Morning Call of his shock at seeing news of the arrest in the paper just one day later. According to the Morning Call, the Nawrockis suddenly felt like the subjects of a witch hunt fueled by overeager investigators and journalists:

When a reporter seeking a comment phoned their home in Moscow, Lackawanna County, [Leonard] told him, ‘She’s not talking to anybody.’ He said the reporter noted in his story, ‘A man answered the phone at the Nawrocki residence and said, ‘She’s not talking to anybody.”‘

Suddenly pariahs. “Basically we were isolated people,” Leonard Nawrocki, father of the couple’s son, Kevin, told Morning Call reporter Mike Frassinelli. “We felt like there wasn’t a friend in the world.”

Leonard also said that other teachers ignored Paula at lunch and administrators snubbed her at a basketball game.

The parents of one student asked the school to remove him from Paula’s class. She was suspended with pay shortly afterward.

Joanne Chambers made class fun but also was effective at teaching kids with reading difficulties

Harassment stops. Fluegel later told Dateline NBC that at least 10 teachers he spoke to said they suspected Paula Nawrocki as the party behind the terror campaign against Joanne.

After Paula’s arrest, the menacing behavior toward Joanne stopped.

But the FBI couldn’t find forensic evidence to help build a case against Paula.

Past comes to light. The private investigator and lawyer who Paula Nawrocki hired had better luck. She paid $7,000 to have some of the threatening letters tested for her DNA. The lab found a small number of epithelial cells under one set of stamps and an envelope flap.

None of them matched the DNA from Paula or Leonard. But those forensics weren’t enough to clear Paula.

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Fortunately, some circumstantial evidence materialized. Police from Carbondale, Pennsylvania, told Paula’s defense team that, going back years, Joanne had a history of reporting suspicious incidents such as fires and burglaries. Colleagues from Joanne’s prior employer, the Lackawanna Trail School District, near Scranton, testified that Joanne had said that other teachers had threatened to torch her house.

Compulsive complainer. Some of her ex-coworkers from the previous school said that Joanne liked to cause trouble for other teachers and that her arrival made waves in what had been a harmonious workplace.

In a precursor to what happened at Joanne’s Coolbaugh job, at the Lackawanna school, a superintendent had called a meeting of teachers to disclose the alleged threats made against Joanne — and announced that the guilty party “is someone sitting in this room.”

“Every crime she said she was a victim of had some weirdness attached to it,” Paula’s private investigator, Jim Anderson, said in one of my favorite Forensic Files quotes.

Garbage comes in handy. And like most compulsive liars, Joanne didn’t keep her stories straight. She told one teacher that she broke her leg jumping from a burning building at Marywood College and another that it happened when she jumped to escape evil nuns trying to keep her in a convent against her will, according to a Morning Call story from Jan. 21, 1996. (A couple of newspaper articles referred to Joanne as a former nun or student nun, but it’s not clear whether or not that was one of her tall tales.)

Anderson retrieved some items from Joanne’s trash with DNA. One the samples matched DNA from the stamps and the envelope flap.

Joanne’s explanation was that the stamps from the threatening letter came off — she was alone with them in some type of evidence room, she said — and she licked them to reattach them.

Prolonged trauma. At the trial in 1996, which Dateline NBC covered, Coolbaugh’s principal and some of its teachers testified that they suspected Paula Nawrocki of creating the terror campaign against Joanne Chambers. Paula had started acting jumpy and nervous around the time the incidents began.

The courtroom presentation of the hate letters and threats initially put the jurors in Joanne’s corner.

“I felt so bad for this woman, this poor thing, to have had to go through all these terrible things,” one juror later told Dateline NBC, which broadcast a segment about the case on Aug. 25, 1997.

But Paula’s lawyer Phil Lauer managed to turn the tables.

Morning Call clip from Jan. 23, 1996

Revelations from the past. Some former colleagues of Joanne Chambers from a different school testified that Joanne had a history of complaining about anonymous threats.

Jim Anderson discovered that Joanne had reported about a dozen fires and burglaries on her property — more proof, the defense contended, that she liked playing the role of victim.

After five days of testimony and two hours of deliberation, the jury reached a not guilty verdict. Paula cried with relief, and some of the jurors hugged her outside the courtroom. One said, “Our hearts are with you.”

Reinstated at last. Paula commented that Joanne “needs help.” (Before the trial, Fluegel had said Paula needed help.)

In 1997, Paula faced another hearing of sorts when the Pocono Mountain School Board investigated her for “immorality” based on other aspects of Joanne Chambers’ accusations.

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Nawrocki was cleared again and allowed to resume her $55,000-a-year job “after months of school board hearings that were peppered with audience cheers for Nawrocki and jeers for Chambers,” the Morning Call reported.

Six-figure compensation. Joanne lamented that the polygraph evidence couldn’t be used in court but ultimately said she just wanted to get on with her life.

Paula agreed to appear on the Dateline segment about the case but later said she found it tedious. She also gave an interview to Redbook magazine but soon regretted it, feeling the resulting article cast some doubt on her innocence.

She filed a $9 million lawsuit against the school, Joanne Chambers, and the police. In 2000, she received a $600,000 settlement from the school plus $25,000 from Chambers. (Joanne’s lawyer, John E. Freund III, said that she settled only because she wanted to avoid the cost of defense.)

Paula Nawrocki gets a chance to smile after the court verdict

No payday from us. Paula sued Police Chief Anthony Fluegel as well, but Fluegel went to trial instead of settling and won the case. Court papers from 2002 noted, in Fluegel’s defense, that other teachers passed lie detector tests. Only Nawrocki failed, so Fluegel had reason to make her the prime suspect.

“I thought from the beginning I was just doing my job,” Fluegel later said, calling the Nawrockis’ allegations against him baseless.

None of the authorities who Nawrocki accused of malicious prosecution ended up paying any damages to her — and rightly so, considering that they had evidence against Nawrocki that seemed credible. The fault lay with Joanne Chambers for lying, not those who had every reason to believe her.

Under the radar. A note from the producers at the end of the episode said that Paula spent $100,000 in her defense, and mentioned that both women still taught in the Pocono Mountain School District but at different schools.

But that was back in 1997. What’s happened since then?

Well, Paula Nawrocki has kept a low profile since 2002, after she lost her suit against the police. She has no presence on social media and no longer speaks to journalists.

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Her husband, Leonard Nawrocki, gave an interview to the Times-Tribune in July 4, 2012 — but the article was about a rally featuring then-Vice President Joe Biden that Leonard attended.

On Oct. 19, 2015, a Morning Call obituary for a local woman who died at age 96 mentioned that Paula Nawrocki was “like a daughter” to her. So, it sounds as though Paula stayed in the area.

Back on the job market. As for Joanne Chambers, she retired in June 2015 after having received the prestigious National Board Certified status.

But just three months later, on Sept. 25,2015, an article titled “Scandalous past gives school board pause” appeared in the Hazleton Standard-Speaker.

The story noted that the Hazleton Area School Board was ready to hire Joanne Chambers as a Wilson reading specialist — that is, an educator who teaches dyslexic kids.

The Pennsylvania Wilson program officials highly recommended Joanne.

Joanne Chambers after the verdict

Supporter speaks out. But just in time to spoil the party, the Barbie doll reared its ugly head. Some parents put her name in Google and reported the resulting intelligence about the terror complaints, decoupage porn, etc., to the school board, which tabled the decision to hire her.

Still, Joanne has at least one fan of her professional accomplishments.

A former colleague named Jamie Schweppenheiser from the Pocono Mountain School District wrote a letter to the editor praising Chambers as a professional who “helped countless children and young adults learn how to read” and saying “what a shame for the teachers and students of the Hazleton Area School District to miss out on the opportunity to be mentored by Joanne Chambers.”

In other words, Joanne Chambers remains a divisive and contradictory figure, someone who allegedly created an absolute nightmare for one woman but also gave many children the gift of better reading skills, higher self-esteem, and a sense of accomplishment that will make them happier, more productive adults.

Update: Joanne Chambers died at the age of 76 on November 1, 2024. Her obituary mentions that her husband predeceased her and that a son survives. Thanks to reader Laur C. for writing in with the news.

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

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Glen Wolsieffer: Three-Timing Dentist

A Cheating Husband Causes a Double Tragedy
(“Dew Process,” Forensic Files)

Forensic Files has introduced us to many a physician who forgot his Hippocratic oath, and we’re not just talking about overprescribing opioids.

Wedding photo of Betty Tasker and Glen Wolsieffer
Betty Tasker and Glen Wolsieffer married when they were both 22

Dr. Maynard Muntzing secretly slipped his fiancée drugs to make her miscarry, Dr. John Schneeberger sexually assaulted a patient in his office, and Dr. John Boyle murdered his wife and buried her beneath his basement.

Dentists, on the other hand, come out pretty much unsullied by the series.

Smart mouth. After all, aren’t those who make a living drilling through enamel and pricking soft gum tissue the long-suffering stalwarts of the medical profession? The humble providers of a service we need but dread?

Well, Glen Wolsieffer, D.D.S., distinguished himself as the exception.

Wolsieffer, a dark and handsome 32-year-old Pennsylvanian, had much more than modest ambitions as a dental professional. He owned three practices in Luzerne County.

And he had such a high opinion of himself that he thought he deserved not only the love of the high school sweetheart he married but also that of at least two girlfriends on the side.

Short stint. It was his cheating that brought about his downfall and led to the deaths of two innocent people — his wife, Betty, and his brother, Neil.

Apparently, the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections thought a lot of Glen Wolsieffer, too, and let him out of prison after just 13 years.

For this week, I looked around to find out where Glen Wolsieffer is today and whether he still has the support of his surviving family.

So let’s get going on a recap of “Dew Process,” the Forensic Files episode about the case:

Three-story white house
The 3-bedroom 1.5-bath house at 75 Birch Street

Neighborhood crush. Elizabeth Tasker, known as Betty, was born in 1954, in Wilkes-Barre, the daughter of an insurance claims investigator and a hospital communications supervisor.

Betty met Glen Wolsieffer when they were both kids. Their families lived a few blocks apart in Wilkes-Barre. Glen played baseball and football in school and Betty marched with the drill team and belonged to the Junior Mozart Club.

Friends described Betty as bubbly and well liked.

Dashing dentist. She majored in sociology at Wilkes College. Glen got an undergraduate degree in biology at the University of Scranton.

After Betty married Glen — who sometimes sported a mustache and people would later say looked like a young Tom Selleck — she worked for Blue Cross and Xerox while he finished dental school at Georgetown University in Washington, D.C.

The couple moved back to Wilkes-Barre and bought a house on 75 Birch Street. After they had their daughter, Danielle, Betty stayed at home.

Upstanding citizens. “Everyone thought of them as the all-American family,” Citizens’ Voice reporter Carol Crane told the ID show Handsome Devils, which produced the episode “The Deadly Dentist” about the case.

Betty’s mother, Marian Tasker, described Glen Wolsieffer as a “loved son-in-law.”

The families were close. Betty’s brother Jack Tasker and Glen’s brother Neil played golf together.

Woozy and weak. While Glen built up his dental fiefdom, Betty did volunteer work for charities. They were both popular in Wilkes-Barre, which Forensic Files describes as a small industrial town with little crime — but, oddly, goes on to say that a string of burglaries took place in the Wolsieffers’ neighborhood.

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On August 30, 1986, it was the Wolsieffers’ turn to have crime come to their house, and it was way worse than a theft.

Police responded to a call Saturday morning to find Glen Wolsieffer on the floor fading in and out of consciousness.

Little bro to the rescue. Glen told police he awoke to a loud noise around 6 a.m. and saw an intruder run down the stairs. Gun in hand, Glen followed the home invader, but he managed to sneak up behind Glen and strangle him with a belt, Glen claimed.

In a lucid moment, Glen said, he called his younger brother, Neil Wolsieffer, who lived across the street with his wife, Nancy. Neil rushed to the scene and called police at 7:19 a.m.

In the master bedroom, officers discovered Betty Wolsieffer, 32, dead on the floor with bruising to her face and obvious strangulation marks around her neck. She hadn’t been sexually assaulted.

Fuzzy ID. It looked as though the intruder had climbed a ladder to the second floor and entered the house through a window.

Glen described the assailant as having dark hair and dark eyebrows. He wore a translucent mask that made his race impossible to determine, Glen said.

Grassy softball field in Kirby Park
The Kirby Park softball field is a popular Wilkes-Barre attraction. Glen Wolsieffer would later blame an in-law for getting him kicked off his softball team

According to Forensic Files, the intruder had taken $1,300 from a desk drawer and some jewelry — but Handsome Devils said that nothing was stolen from the house.

Fortunately, Betty and Glen’s daughter, Danielle, 5, lay unharmed in her bed.

Sensational story. When told that Betty was dead, Glen seemed shocked.

At Mercy Hospital, a doctor sedated Glen and kept him overnight for observation. He had a contusion on the back of his head, according to the Citizens’ Voice, but was in good condition overall.

The crime was colossal news for sedate Luzerne County. The Scrantonian reported on “the wife of a well-known dentist with offices in Hanover Twp., Nanticoke, and Shickshinny” found strangled. The Times-Tribune referred to Glen as a prominent dentist.

Magnificent 15. Panicked neighbors wanted to see the crime solved quickly.

Local and state police and the DA’s office joined forces. The police chief assigned 15 investigators to the case. The FBI helped evaluate evidence.

At first, the police believed Glen’s story that a robber committed the murder, according to the Scrantonian.

Betty Wolsieffer dressed for a night out
Betty Wolsieffer lies in the Mount Greenwood Cemetery in Trucksville, Pa.

Guidance counselor. But Glen Wolsieffer started to look suspicious soon enough.

For one thing, by Sept. 3, just four days after the murder, Glen had engaged a lawyer, Mark Ciavarella, who advised him not to talk to police.

That situation didn’t exactly endear him to Betty’s family.

Plus, when Glen and Neil visited the Taskers after the murder, Glen admitted that the rumors about his having two girlfriends — his dental assistant, Debbie Shipp, and his married aerobics instructor, Carol Kopicki — were true.

Long mourning. After that, the Taskers abandoned Team Glen entirely.

Luzerne County District Attorney Correale Stevens would later recall the time spent with the Taskers. “I still get shivers down my spine,” he told the Wilkes-Barre Times Leader. “One night I went over by myself and sat with the whole family and just talked. I saw the sadness in their eyes and that’s what really motivated me, seeing that family torn apart.”

Local media outlets weren’t siding with Glen either. An unnamed source leaked to the press the fact that someone had damaged the window screen on the second floor from the inside — whereas an intruder would have broken in, not out.

Choking hazard. A veteran police officer told the Citizens’ Voice that, of the hundreds of burglaries he’d investigated, this was the first one that included a ladder. “Burglars fear ladders, feeling they could be trapped,” he said. “They would rather kick in a door.”

The coroner thought it strange that Betty had no blood on her face or nightgown after such a violent struggle — the facial and neck injuries were severe enough to prevent her family from giving her an open-casket funeral.

Glen had strangulation marks on the back of his own neck, inconsistent with his story that the intruder approached him from the back with the belt.

Office affair. It seemed more likely that, during a struggle, someone facing him pulled on a gold chain he liked to wear.

Glen’s girlfriend Debbie Shipp began talking to the police. Debbie said the two started seeing each other in 1981 and at some point, he began talking about leaving his wife for her.

Then, Debbie found out Glen was also having an affair with Carol Kopicki, whom he met at Aerobic World.

Night fever. Receipts from the Red Roof Inn later showed that Glen sometimes met both women separately for trysts before returning home to Betty.

At some point, Carol Kopicki divorced her husband, Mark, and Glen chose her over Debbie Shipp.

Black and white photo of Neil Wolsieffer
Neil Wolsieffer was two years younger than Glen

Before Glen stopped talking to police, he told them that he was out with friends at the Crackerbox Palace nightclub and had gotten home around 2:30 a.m. on the night of the murder. He went right to sleep and didn’t wake until he heard the intruder, he said.

Awkward climb. But investigators noticed that Glen’s car, unlike Betty’s, had no dew on it, which according to a meteorologist didn’t make sense scientifically for that particular night. They believed someone must have driven Glen’s car between 2:30 a.m. and the police’s arrival.

Other inconsistencies included a lack of the intruder’s footprints in the dew and the fact that the ladder was facing in the wrong direction. It also hadn’t made any indentations on the ground, as a person’s weight would cause.

The FBI believed someone staged the crime scene.

Shaken and stirred. And the most incriminating part of the investigation involved something Glen and Neil Wolsieffer hadn’t done. Neither went upstairs to check on Betty and Danielle’s safety while waiting for police.

When asked why, Neil had no answer. He cried and shook during questioning. A detective later described Neil, who worked as operations director of the Wilkes-Barre recreation department, as a “very nervous person.”

During the course of three interviews with Neil, detectives began suspecting he knew more than he was letting on. He refused to take a polygraph, although he set up a meeting with the DA for later and promised to give additional information about what he saw on the night of the murder.

Violent end. But no further answers would be coming from Neil. While heading for the appointment, Neil turned into the path of either a dump truck or cement truck (accounts vary), which crushed his Honda.

Neil died instantly.

The driver of the truck told police Neil’s car seemed to deliberately cross into his path. The coroner declared the death a suicide.

Meanwhile, investigators found out that Betty knew about Glen’s cheating and was sick of his late-night partying. She wanted out of the marriage.

Yet another woman. The lab found evidence of a violent struggle on the night of the murder: Under Betty’s fingernails were blue fibers that likely came from the denim outfit Glen wore to the nightclub in Kingston the evening of the murder. On the bed, police found Glen’s hairs with roots attached, meaning someone forcibly removed them from his head.

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Forensic Files didn’t mention it, but Nancy Wolsieffer — Neil’s widow — supposedly turned against Glen, too. According to Handsome Devils, the dentist and the Catholic-school teacher got cozy after Neil’s death, until she learned he was still seeing Carol Kopicki.

Nancy met with police and started bad-mouthing her brother-in-law.

Dentist’s a spectacle. By this time, Glen, who clearly sensed that folks in Wilkes-Barre weren’t exactly in his corner, had started a dental practice in Falls Church, Virginia, where he was living with Carol Kopicki and his daughter, whom he enrolled in private school.

In 1989, police treated Glen and Carol’s neighbors to some front-row theater. Officers surrounded their house and arrested Glen on a charge of first-degree murder for Betty Wolsieffer’s death.

The subsequent trial and media coverage offered “a tale of mystery and sexual intrigue that so gripped this town that headlines referred to Wolsieffer and his wife, Betty, by first names only and crowds stood in line for hours to get seats in an overflowing Luzerne County courtroom,” according to a Patriot-News account from Nov. 29, 1990.

Husband who parties. Authorities made a case that on the night of the murder, Glen met Debbie Shipp at a hotel for sex; she admitted it.

Apparently, the extramarital tryst wasn’t enough diversion for Glen, so he hit the Crackerbox Palace. There, he ran into Carol Ann Kopicki but she was with her husband, which put Glen in a foul mood.

When he got home, Betty confronted him — Betty’s pal Barbara Wende had told police that Betty confided in her that he’d given her bruises during previous fights, according to Handsome Devils. (Glen had refused to go to marriage counseling, according to a Times Leader account.)

Dew not. The prosecution alleged that a violent fight ensued the night of the murder, with Betty defending herself by tearing at Glen’s hair and his clothes and yanking his chain, literally, which left visible impressions on the back of his neck.

After choking her with his hands and finishing her off with a ligature, Glen changed her nightgown and washed her face in an attempt to mask his guilt, the prosecution alleged. Then he inadvertently erased the dew from his car by driving somewhere to get rid of the bloody clothing.

Next, he staged the scene, inadvertently placing the ladder the wrong way.

Blame it on an addict. He probably deliberately created his head wound by knocking himself into a wall. Or, perhaps, Neil helped him to both make the injury and ransack the house so it looked like a burglary. (It didn’t come up in any media accounts, but it’s possible Neil was the one who finished Betty off with the ligature — and then the guilt drove him to suicide.)

Newspaper clipping showing headshots of Carol Kopicki and Deborah Shipp
Local papers, including the Citizens’ Voice, devoted full-pages to Glen Wolsieffer’s trial, which featured two girlfriends but only one who cooperated

At the trial, the prosecution played a tape secretly made by Betty Tasker’s father and brother, but it was no bombshell. It recorded Glen denying that he and Betty fought and saying that he thought the Taskers didn’t believe in his innocence. Glen said that Jack Tasker was the reason his softball team blackballed him, according to the Hazleton Standard-Speaker on Nov. 19, 1990.

Glen didn’t testify at the trial. His defense contended that one or two “druggies” broke into the house and killed Betty and inflicted head injuries on Glen that caused him to toggle in and out of consciousness.

Hostile witness. Carol Kopicki, Glen’s girlfriend at the time of the trial, refused to answer questions, but she did lend the trial a little window-dressing: “She stares icily at the news media and curiously at the court officers,” the Times Leader wrote in a Nov. 19, 1989 piece. “She strode into court fashionably dressed in a furry black sweater, her short hair cut into a bouncy bob, her face covered heavily with makeup.”

After deliberating six hours, the jury convicted Glen Wolsieffer of third-degree murder — rejecting the notion that Glen had premeditated the homicide.

Upon hearing the guilty verdict, “a relative waved what appeared to be smelling salts under the nose of Wolsieffer’s mother, Phyllis, who hung her head,” the Patriot-News reported. Glen’s sister, Lisa Myers, said she still believed in Glen’s innocence.

Give him liberty. On Betty’s family’s side of the courtroom, the Taskers hugged and wept.

“The verdict changes no minds, but rather calcifies the rancor of the two sides,” Richard Pienciak wrote in Murder at 75 Birch, a mass-market paperback about the case.

But the justice system somehow looked upon Glen with favor and allowed him to go free on $200,000 bail while he appealed the verdict. He returned to Virginia.

He enjoyed two years of liberty before his sentencing in 1992.

Adding insult to injury. Despite a plaintive letter his daughter, then 11, wrote to the judge (“Remember how much he means to me. I really love him and need him for everything”), Glen got a sentence of 8 to 20 years and went off to prison.

Betty’s mother, Marian Tasker, eventually took custody of Danielle.

The Taskers fought their former son-in-law’s bids for parole over the years.

Upon rejecting Wolsieffer’s first request for parole in 2000, the board noted that he might need sex offender treatment due to his multiple affairs and “view of women,” the Times Leader reported.

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Steps to freedom. Five years later, Marian Tasker, then 78, said that she suspected bad news when she saw that a parole board letter had come to her certified — whereas denials “were sent regular mail,” the Times Leader reported.

Glen had confessed to killing Betty, spurring the board to approve his sixth try at parole.

Pennsylvania released Wolsieffer into a half-way house for anger management treatment in 2005, followed by transition into the community under a parole officer’s supervision, according to the Times Leader.

Credentials flaunted. Glen took up residence in Wilkes-Barre again instead of returning to Virginia.

I wasn’t able to find out what Glen did for work after his release, although the obituary for his mother, Phyllis Wolsieffer, referred to him as “Dr.” E. Glen Wolsieffer, suggesting he was using his degree somehow.

Whatever the case, his side of the family still supports him.

Headshot of young Glen Wolsieffer and more recently
Glen Wolsieffer has retained his striking looks over the years, but his reputation is irredeemable

Not a waiting woman. Danielle became a hair stylist and is close to her father. A 2020 story in the local paper noting the 10th birthday of Danielle’s son mentioned Glen Wolsieffer as his grandfather.

Glen’s sister, Lisa Myers, also remains in his corner.

Carol Kopicki stayed in Wilkes-Barre, but apparently the entitled, self-indulgent dentist she once loved lost his sway over her. She married someone else.

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


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Dana Ewell: $8 Million Motive

The Murders of Glee, Dale, and Tiffany Ewell
(“Two in a Million,” Forensic Files)

Forensic Files has introduced us to a number of heirs who tried to hasten their fortunes by killing family members — and ended up poor and incarcerated instead.

Dale and Dana played tennis together the morning before the murders

Dana Ewell suffered the same fate, but he distinguished himself from the others in two ways.

Haughty kid. First, he successfully completed all the intended homicides (Christopher Porco accidentally left his mother alive and Bart Whitaker did the same with his father).

Second, he was the most arrogant.

After the murders of Dana’s parents and older sister, word got out that the Mercedes-driving Armani-suit-wearing college student was referring to the lead detectives as Sesame Street characters incapable of solving the case.

Meticulous cops. Law enforcement professionals don’t particularly appreciate that kind of talk, and it made detectives Chris Curtice and John Souza more determined to find out whether Dana had anything to do with the shooting deaths that turned into Northern California’s version of the OJ Simpson sensation.

It took three years of surveillance work and a physical timeline as long as a red carpet, but the authorities eventually proved who plotted and carried out the murders of Glee, Dale, and Tiffany Ewell in a bid for an estate valued at as much as $8 million.

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For this week, I looked into what happened to Dana Ewell in the three years between the murders and his arrest – specifically whether he actually got his hands on any of the money from his parents’ estate and whether he received moral support from his extended family during the trial.

I also checked into the whereabouts of Dana and his henchman today.

Happy family. So let’s get going on a recap of “Two in a Million,” the Forensic Files episode about the case, along with additional information from internet research and other true-crime shows:

Two days after Easter in 1992, a housekeeper named Juanita Avitia entered the residence at 5663 East Park Circle Drive in Fresno.

Avitia had worked for a number of wealthy families and found the Ewells unusual in that they all got along well, she would later say in an interview with Oxygen series In Cold Blood.

Cleaning woman Juanita Avitia said the Ewells enjoyed their togetherness

Sweet daughter. Inside the sprawling adobe-style house, Avitia saw Tiffany Ewell, 24, lying facedown with a gunshot wound to the back of the head. She had collapsed on top of a Foster’s Freeze cup she was carrying.

Tiffany, a graduate accounting student who lived at home, was shy and demure by all accounts.

Avitia fled and called 911. Police found Dale and Glee Ewell also shot to death in the house.

Congenial and thoughtful. Glee had suffered the most violent death. Someone had fired into her heart and face, and investigators would later say that her frozen expression of horror suggested she knew the gunman.

It was an unlikely end for a woman known for her big smile.

Glee, who worked as a translator for the CIA before she had her children, later served on the State Bar of California’s governing board. She was “one of the most well-liked people I’ve ever met,” according to Don Fischback, a friend who appeared on the show Solved. “If you saw her at an event, you’d get a card or a note a week later — ‘great to see you last week.'”

Midwestern guy. Her husband of 31 years, who had died from one bullet to the back of the neck, also knew how to chat people up, although at least some of the time, he had an ulterior motive. He was a salesman with an original way of introducing his product.

The son of Ohio farmers, Dale had studied aeronautical engineering at Miami University of Ohio and married Glee in 1961. They were soul mates, according to Dale’s brother who appeared on Power, Privilege, and Justice.

After moving to California, Dale bought an airplane dealership. He would, uninvited, land one of his small airplanes on a farmer’s field, charm the farmer into purchasing it, and then teach him how to fly it.

Last hurrah. Like any good investor, Dale diversified, buying up real estate and farmland, where he grew pistachios and figs.

One of the Ewells’ properties was a beach house in Parajo Dunes in Santa Cruz County, where the family spent its last weekend together.

The 3,600-square-foot house at 5663 East Park Circle Drive in the Sunnyside section of Fresno

The gathering included the one member of the Ewell nuclear family who would survive the slaughter, Dana Ewell, 21, a business student at Santa Clara State University.

Case of the Benz. Just earlier that day — April 19, Easter Sunday — Dana and his family had taken a walk on the beach together. But instead of heading home with the rest of the Ewells, Dana went 160 miles away to the Bay Area to have dinner with his girlfriend, Monica Zent, 24, and her FBI agent father, John.

Although by all accounts, Glee and Dale Ewell never flaunted their wealth, they enabled Dana to do so. They gave him an allowance of $800 a month and a status-symbol car. Dana liked to flash $100 bills at parties and wear imported Italian suits to class.

When Dana wrecked his gold Mercedes 190, Dale bought him another one identical to the first. It’s unclear why, but Dale reportedly considered the circumstances of the accident an embarrassment to the family and wanted to sweep it under the rug.

Strange bedfellows. Dana could be incorrigible in a number of ways. He lied to a school-newspaper reporter, saying that he owned a $4 million company and sold mutual funds.

The resulting article angered his father, but Dana continued to deceive, getting caught plagiarizing a business ethics paper in college. It was a strange choice because Dana supposedly had a genius IQ. During his Forensic Files appearance, Dana’s uncle said that Dana scored 160 points (or maybe that’s just family lore or Dana switched tests with the chess club president).

Dana was fascinated with people who broke laws in pursuit of wealth. He hung a picture of Michael Milken in his dorm room and openly admired Joe Hunt, the Ponzi schemer and murderer whose life served as the basis of the 1987 NBC series Billionaire Boys Club.

Alarm code handy. But whoever murdered the Ewells should have spent less time watching made-for-TV movies and more time viewing true-crime docuseries.

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The killer or killers made a mistake well-known to Forensic Files viewers: excessively ransacking the house to make the murders look like a burglary gone wrong — but leaving behind valuable items a real thief would have grabbed.

The attacker also turned off the house’s security system, a sign of an inside job. And the bullets used to shoot the victims came from a stash Dale Ewell kept in the house.

Solid alibi. Police briefly looked into a theory that the previous owner of Dale Ewell’s airplane business had ties to drug smugglers who might have played a role in the crime, but that part of the investigation went nowhere fast.

Dana became the No. 1 suspect. Curtice and Souza knew he was nowhere near the house when the murders took place, but believed he had something to do with them.

The tall blue-eyed scion raised suspicions by immediately hiring lawyer Richard Berman to communicate with the police.

Forensic Files didn’t mention it, but Glee, seen here at her wedding to Dale, has been described as an heiress to an oil fortune

Post-homicide spree. Dana did make a token effort to convey bereavement, posting a $50,000 reward for information leading to the killer’s arrest, noting the “wonderful lives that ended in tragedy” and saying that “my world was shattered and my life was changed forever.”

In fact, the death of his family saddened him so much that he bought himself a $130,000 airplane and put his mother’s fur coat up for sale via a newspaper ad, the Los Angeles Times reported.

After quitting college briefly, Dana spent time at Western Piper Sales, his late father’s airplane business, where he got himself named vice president with a salary of $2,000 a month, according to court papers, but he mostly just sat around chatting on the phone, the Chicago Tribune reported.

Expensive whirl. Dana also seemed comfortable living in his parents’ house in Fresno despite that blood and other forensic evidence from the murders were never cleaned up.

His best buddy and former dorm roommate Joel Radovcich, the son of a church organist and an engineer, moved into the house with him for a time.

Investigators found out that Joel, who left school and had no job, had started taking helicopter flight lessons for up to $500 an hour shortly after the murders. A little forensic accounting showed that Dana was underwriting the cost of his buddy’s foray into piloting with Mazzei Flying Service.

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Revealing reply. Investigators also found out that Joel had a fascination with lethal weapons and kept a stash of magazines about mercenary work.

And Joel had sent books, one of which gave do-it-yourself silencer instructions, to his friend Jack Ponce, a 23-year-old law student with a history degree from UCLA.

When police visited Joel to ask some questions, he immediately asked if they intended to arrest him.

They didn’t have enough evidence for that yet, but undercover cops staked out a public phone Joel used to call Dana. The two only communicated via pagers and pay phones and mostly spoke in code, but police heard Joel demanding $250,000. Investigators would ultimately conclude that Dana had promised Joel half of the estate.

Dale Ewell described his sister as the “most harmless person in the world.” But she stood between him and $4 million.

Bromance, literally. They found tennis balls in Joel’s home that matched fibers on the floor of the crime scene and on the victims’ bodies. Police believed the attacker used tennis balls to make a homemade silencer — another sign that murder, not robbery, was the home invader’s goal.

At this point, police weren’t the only ones who suspected Dana. When Dale Ewell’s three brothers — who were so close that they all had followed Dale from Ohio to California — read the will, they saw a different side of their nephew.

Dale had stipulated that trustees give Dana the money in increments until he turned 35, when he would get all remaining assets, which in addition to the beach house and main residence in Fresno, included a cabin at Shaver Lake, the two 160-acre farms, and Dale Ewell’s $1.3 million retirement fund, according to a McClatchy News Service article.

Aunt marches in. When Dana found out that he wasn’t getting the millions he expected right away, he became infuriated and pounded his fist on a table — showing more emotion than he did when he found out that his family died in a triple homicide.

After Dana’s outburst, his paternal grandfather, Austin Ewell, tried to stop the trust from distributing any money from Dana’s late parents, although Dana ultimately got hold of around $800,000.

Austin would later make a point of leaving Dana out of his own will.

Jack Ponce and Joel Radovcich
Jack Ponce and Joel Radovcich

But not all the Ewells turned against Dana. His aunt — Dale’s only sister, Betty Ewell Whitted — would later fight to have some of the money from Dale and Glee Ewell’s estate pay for a lawyer to defend Dana, according to the Cleveland Plain Dealer.

Grandma in peril. Still, Dana’s actions continued to worry the rest of his relatives. Detectives and some family members grew concerned about Dana’s intentions toward his 90-year-old maternal grandmother, Glee Mitchell, who had Alzheimer’s.

Dana inherited the role of trustee of his grandmother’s $380,000 estate. He was suspected of not only misappropriating $100,000 for his own use but also of plotting with his buddy Joel Radovcich to murder her before the nursing home costs frittered away her fortune, according to the McClatchy News Service story.

At Dana’s insistence, Glee Mitchell switched nursing homes and moved into a room with a door opening up to the outdoors. Sheriff’s officials asked the staff to stop Dana from taking his grandmother on any trips outside of the facility.

Quick change of mind. Glee Mitchell died of natural causes, but a California Bar Journal account available on Murderpedia said that Dana actually succeeded in spending all his grandmother’s money except for $2,000.

In March 1995, police arrested Jack Ponce at the restaurant where he tended bar. They nabbed Joel at Taco Bell and took Dana into custody a short time later.

At first, the handsome olive-skinned Ponce refused to talk to the police, but once they let him know the death penalty was on the table, he made an immunity deal and started flapping his jaws.

Razor’s edge. Ponce said that he sold his AT-9 assault-style rifle — which the LA Times described as coming from “little-known Colorado arms manufacturer Feather Industries” and having a “one in 12 twist” (you’ll have to look that one up on your own) — to Joel for $500.

Joel, who clearly hadn’t read up enough about being a successful hit man, later blabbed to Ponce the whole story about how he killed the Ewells.

John Souza and Chris Curtice finally get their man

To avoid leaving forensic evidence, Joel shaved off every hair on his body and sat on a plastic tarp for hours while lying in wait in the Ewells’ house, Ponce said. Joel told Ponce that he shot Tiffany in the back of the head as she walked past him. (Dana wanted her dead so he would get her half of their parents’ estate.)

Glee tried to run, but he chased her down and stood over her as he fired the gun. Joel put on fresh gloves and changed the clip in preparation for Dale’s arrival — he had flown home, separately — and shot him in the back of the neck as he walked by carrying a stack of papers, Ponce said.

Unearthed evidence. Next, Joel said he made sure the victims had no pulse, then waited for dark and slipped out of the house. Oh, and Joel also said he hoped there was no God — because “if there is, I’m screwed,” the Chicago Tribune reported.

Investigators retrieved the gun barrel from where Ponce said he had buried it three years before, in a vacant lot in Reseda. A test showed the gun matched the bullets used to kill the Ewells.

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Prosecutors maintained that Dana had agreed to split the entire estate with Joel and then the two of them planned to move to Europe with the funds. The two young men were described as very close.

Fresno’s 15 minutes. With Superior Court Judge Frank J. Freede Jr. officiating, the trial kicked off on Dec. 16, 1997, with KMPH-FM radio broadcasting the goings-on. There were no TV cameras allowed — but plenty of other fanfare.

The Chicago Tribune compared the case to the Menendez brothers’ murders and noted that the prospect of another rich kid killing his parents attracted “the predictable swarm of Hollywood agents, screen writers and would-be authors” to town. At least two books and four true-crime shows ultimately arose from the case.

During a five-hour opening statement, Deputy District Attorney Jim Oppliger alleged that Dana and Joel were obsessed with becoming millionaires by age 25.

Gratis help. Meanwhile, Dana, who by 1995 had squandered the six-figures he managed to squeeze from the estate, could no longer afford Richard Berman, who estimated the defense would cost $2 million.

But Dana was able to snag two lawyers for free.

They were court-appointed defender Peter Jones and the flamboyant private attorney Ernest Kinney, well-known for his ego and onetime friendship with OJ Simpson. Kinney undoubtedly wanted a part in the Ewell case to put himself in the spotlight.

Kinney argued that Jack Ponce and Joel Radovcich were responsible for the murders.

Unscrolled account. Joel’s lawyer, Phillip Cherney, said that Dana and Jack Ponce ensnared Joel in their own murder plan.

Meanwhile, FBI agent John Zent supported Dana’s innocence and called Dana a victim.

Joel Radovcich in court with his hair dyed blond
Joel Radovcich had a history of doing odd things to his hair

Detectives Curtice and Souza got a chance to present their 100-foot-long timeline, which minutely detailed the suspects’ movements before, during, and after the murders. It was impressive work from detectives whom Dana had called “Bert and Ernie” and “Mutt and Jeff.”

The trial lasted four months.

The accused speaks. On May 12, 1998, after deliberating for 11 days, a jury convicted both Dana and Joel of first-degree murder with the special circumstances of murder for financial gain, lying in wait, and multiple murders.

The same jury later deadlocked on whether to impose the death penalty, so the judge gave both the young men three life sentences without parole.

For the first time, Dana spoke out in court, saying, “I loved my family with all my heart and soul. We were so very close and happy and content.”

But it was detectives John Souza and Chris Curtice’s turn to feel happy now.

Family affair. “I envisioned the three victims in this case, which caused me to get real emotional,” Souza said after the verdict, according to an AP account from Nov. 19, 1998.

Dana continued to fight for a $500,000 trust fund originally set up for him and his sister. He reached an agreement over it with his three paternal uncles — Ben and twins Dan and Richard Ewell — in 1999, according to a wire story.

As if Dana’s uncles and aunt hadn’t lived through enough tragedy, in the middle of the investigation, Austin Ewell, 86, had died horribly in a house fire in Ohio.

Appeal fails. Ben Ewell, who gave interviews for several true crime shows, would later credit Austin for helping him cope in the wake of the murders, telling him “this too shall pass,” according to a Fresno Bee story from Feb. 15, 2004. Austin had ultimately left his $343,000 estate to Dale’s sister and brothers.

In 2011, a U.S. District Court in California rejected Dana’s writ of habeas corpus.

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Today, Dana Ewell, 49, is prisoner No. P04759 with the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. His status is still LWOP, life without parole.

The state website doesn’t reveal which facility is housing him, but a Fresno Bee story from 2017 identified it as Corcoran, where he lives in a special unit for those who need protection from other inmates.

Crazy neighbors. His fellow prisoners at Corcoran include Rodney Alcala (the Dating Game killer), Phillip Garrido (Jaycee Dugard’s kidnapper and rapist), and Michael Markhasev (murderer of Bill Cosby’s son).

Charles Manson, the cult leader who persuaded hippies to kill actress Sharon Tate and eight others, also lived in Corcoran, until his death in 2017.

Dana proclaimed that he found Jesus while behind razor wire, according to the Bee.

So many lawyers. Joel Patrick Radovcich, also 49, resides in Valley State Prison in Chowchilla and has LWOP status.

As for who benefitted from Dale and Glee Ewell’s estate, it’s not clear whether anyone came out ahead except for the various lawyers in the fight.

One of Dana’s uncles told the Cleveland Plain Dealer that the family had about 16 lawyers involved in criminal and civil actions related to the murders.

Dana Ewell in an undated mug shot

Ex-girlfriend unscathed. Monica Zent, on whom Dana had reportedly spent as much as $40,000 for a car and tuition, went on to do quite well for herself, although her success had nothing to do with the murder trial — she never testified and hasn’t spoken about it publicly.

She founded LawDesk360 and ZentLaw, according to her LinkedIn profile.

The criminal justice system also came out a winner in light of the Ewell trial. The LA Times noted the convictions were a reassuring counter to the controversial not guilty verdict in the O.J. Simpson trial and the initial mistrial in the Menendez brothers‘ case.

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For more about the Ewells’ murders, you can watch Power, Privilege, and Justice on YouTube.

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


Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube

Rachel Siani: Gone at 21

Strip-Club Denizen John Denofa Kills
(“Last Dance,” Forensic Files)

On April 1, 200o, an all-terrain vehicle rider spotted the body of a woman under a bridge in Burlington, New Jersey. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater but had no identification.

Rachel Siani

Fortunately, a former boyfriend recognized a description that the police released. She was Rachel Siani, 21, a psychology student at Bucks County Community College.

“Body Identified As That of Student,” read one of the first Philadelphia Inquirer headlines about the case.

Tantalizing tale. Although investigators suspected suicide early on, the autopsy proved that Rachel hadn’t killed herself. Someone threw her off the bridge.

In the meantime, another one of Rachel’s associates also called police. William Love worked as a manager at Diva’s International Gentlemen’s Club, where Rachel danced under the name Roxanne, and she hadn’t shown up for work.

Now, media outlets had all they needed for a storyline to hold readers’ interest for years — a commercially attractive murdered woman belonging to a workforce sector that never seems to lose its mystique.

Labeled forever. For headline-writing purposes, newspapers changed Rachael’s ID to “Student-Dancer” and then “Slain Stripper.”

It made the tragedy even worse for her family.

As her cousin Nancy Finan said during her appearance on Forensic Files, “If she worked at an ice cream stand, the headlines wouldn’t say ‘Ice Cream Girl Killed.'”

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Big spender. She does have a point. And if they’re going to make “exotic dancer” a woman’s personal brand, maybe headlines should describe a man who patronizes an establishment like Diva’s as a “stripper-paying barfly.”

In the Rachel Siani case, the killer turned out to be just that, a gentlemen’s club frequenter named John “Jack” Denofa.

Where most patrons doled out their money $1 or $2 at a time, Denofa handed out $20’s, according to a Philadelphia Inquirer story.

Dad on the premises. And there was a strange twist. Denofa’s wife not only knew about his visits to Diva’s but also approved of them. She sometimes dropped him off at Diva’s so he wouldn’t drink and drive.

John Denofa
John ‘Jack’ Denofa. Photo by William Thomas Cain/CAIN IMAGES

For this week, I looked into where Jack Denofa is today and why Lisa Denofa tolerated her husband’s behavior. I was also curious to find out how a woman like Rachel Siani, who was brought up in a home with a nice father, ended up doing the kind of work she did.

So let’s get going on the recap of the Forensic Files episode “Last Dance” along with additional information drawn from internet research.

Psych major. Rachel Elizabeth Siani was born on April 18, 1978, and lived in Bensalem, Pennsylvania. When Rachel was a child, her parents divorced and her mother died a few years later.

At the time of Rachel’s death, she was living at home with dad Richard Siani, stepmother Janet Titlow Siani, with whom she reportedly had a good relationship, two brothers, Anthony and William, and two stepbrothers, Thomas and Charles.

Rachel attended community college full time and had completed 57 of 60 credits needed for an associate’s degree. To fund her education, she worked at Diva’s three to five times a week, earning as much as $400 a night. School cost around $1,000 a semester plus books, according to an AP account.

Really, no Camaro? In addition to studying psychology, she took acting classes. Like a lot of shy people who ply the performing arts, she lost her inhibitions when on stage.

Fellow acting students recalled that she came alive when she took part in skits.

So the exotic dancing might have served as an extension of that self-expression.

And maybe she really needed the money. She drove an ancient beaten-up-looking white Lincoln sedan (a gentlemen’s club performer without a red Trans Am?) and lived in a household of seven.

Early suspect. After a third party informed her father and stepmother she worked at Diva’s, they expressed disapproval but accepted that Rachel was an adult who could make her own decisions.

So how did she end up dead under a bridge? Police had found her blood on the bridge, suggesting someone had wounded her before she went over the side, although she probably died from the impact of the fall.

Investigators believe Jack Denofa intended for Rachel Siani’s body to fall into the Delaware River

Investigators immediately zeroed in on a cook who Forensic Files calls Jason Woods and the Oxygen series It Takes a Killer identifies as Spike Davis. The club management had fired him because he wouldn’t leave Rachel alone.

But, whatever his name was, forensic evidence soon cleared him.

Successful entrepreneur. Suspicions turned toward someone else connected with Diva’s, a regular customer named John Denofa, age 35.

Denofa owned Apex Sign Supplies, a wholesale business on Railroad Drive in Warminster, Pennsylvania. It apparently generated enough revenue to underwrite waxing and extensions for exotic dancers and sustain a comfortable upper-middle class existence for Denofa and his wife.

He and Lisa Denofa lived in a four-bedroom three-bathroom house on Deep Creek Way in Buckingham, Pennsylvania.

Nice work if you can get it. The Denofas appeared to be respectable citizens. He served as chairman of his high school alumni association and was generally well liked, although he did fly off the handle when he didn’t get what he wanted, according to It Takes a Killer and the Philadelphia Daily News.

Because he had a DUI on his record from 1999, Jack often stayed over at the Econo Lodge next to the club. As mentioned, his wife knew all about this trips to Diva’s and didn’t object. After at least one of his nighttime outings, Lisa met her husband and one of his exotic-dancing friends for breakfast the next day. (The sight of them must have furrowed the brows of other diners — how did this trio come to be?)

Rachel was Jack’s favorite dancer at Diva’s. He found her charm, thick flowing hair, and blue eyes irresistible and sometimes paid her hundreds of dollars just to sit and talk with him.

Last-stop saloon. By all accounts, the two had no physical relationship outside of the club.

On March 31, 2000, the last night of Rachel’s life, she finished her shift at the club, changed into jeans and a white sweater with a butterfly pendant, and headed to a bar named Sportsters. (It doesn’t exist anymore, but I’m guessing it was that special no-other-options dive.)

Jack Denofa went to Sportsters, too, but in a different car.

Rowdy guy. Everyone ended up back at Diva’s parking lot. Rachel and fellow Diva’s employee Rebecca Yavorsky sat talking and smoking marijuana in Yavorsky’s silver Mustang. She snapped a picture of Rachel, and it would later help police positively ID the body.

The house where the Denofa's once lived
The Denofas bought their 2,184-square-foot house for $206,000 in 1995. They sold it for $295,000 in 2000, and it’s worth $527,000 today, according to Zillow

Denofa got a little drunk and disorderly that night, banging on the door of the club, but employees told a concerned police officer that he was a regular and it was fine.

Rachel offered to walk the intoxicated Denofa to his room at the Econo Lodge.

Turnpike-cam. No one ever saw her alive again. Richard Scott, the ATV rider, discovered her body three days later.

Investigators found some blood in the shower of John’s $49.95-a-night room, No. 223, but it was too scant to test.

Video surveillance footage from Interchange 29 of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, however, turned up a gold mine. It showed Jack’s Dodge Ram pickup truck with what looked like a body in the back.

All washed up. The image was blurry enough to raise reasonable doubts, but fortunately, a motorist named Melodie Hall, who was situated high up in the driver’s seat of a tractor trailer, got a clear view of the back of the pickup and saw the body dressed in white socks and dark colored pants, court papers say.

Hall saw the driver’s hair was slicked back as though he’d recently taken a shower, according to the It Takes a Killer episode “The Murder of Rachel Siani.” She didn’t report the incident, because she figured the sprawled-out person was just drunk. It was 3:13 a.m., after all.

Jack Denofa’s truck returned 25 minutes later with the back empty, no body, video footage showed.

Rebecca Yavorsky used a disposable camera to take this photo of Rachel Siani the night she died

Off key. Police searched the truck, which Denofa had cleaned thoroughly, but they discovered some blood in the back, enough to do a DNA test. It came from Rachel Siani.

Confronted with the forensic evidence, Jack Denofa said it wasn’t him driving the truck. Diva’s staff had taken his keys from him a few times — maybe an unknown evildoer copied them in order to frame him.

Investigators weren’t buying it.

Talk show. It seemed more likely that on the night of the murder, the one-sidedness of his relationship with Rachel suddenly dawned on him.

Although concerned about his getting to his hotel safely, Rachel wasn’t quite the stripper with the heart of gold of Hollywood movies.

She had reportedly told her friends at the club that Jack was a sucker for paying her $100 or more just for sitting with him. Sometimes, he gave her so much money for chatting that she didn’t have to bother dancing for dollar bills.

Pool of blood. The medical examiner noted burst blood vessels in Rachel’s eyes and on the rest of her face. He concluded that someone choked Rachel until she passed out that night in his room at the Econo Lodge.

A hotel guest remembered hearing a thud the night of the murder and police found Rachel’s blood in the parking lot below Denofa’s room.

Investigators believe Rachel rejected an advance and he choked her until she lost consciousness. Believing she had died, he then tried to put her on a ledge outside his room so he could drive his truck underneath and drop her into the back.

But he lost hold of her and she fell to the ground, leaving the blood stain on the parking lot.

Still breathing. Jack then threw her in the back of the truck and headed east to the bridge connecting the Pennsylvania and New Jersey turnpikes. He threw her body off the bridge — from a height of either 112 feet or 200 feet (accounts vary) — so it would look like a suicide.

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She landed on the grass and died of massive injuries from the impact, which created indentations in the ground.

Dr. Faruk Presswalla, the New Jersey State medical examiner, would later testify that the internal bleeding she suffered indicated she was still alive when Jack Denofa threw her from the bridge.

Cops have their man. Econo Lodge night-auditor Diane Crouch told investigators that she saw Denofa walking fast to the parking lot that night and that he later checked out “smelling of soap and without a word,” according to the Philadelphia Inquirer.

Police arrested Denofa and placed him in the Bucks County Jail.

Meanwhile, Rachel’s family had to wait to bury her because investigators needed her body for evidence. It’s not clear whether everyone knew where Rachel worked, but her father definitely did.

“It’s not something I would have chosen for her,” Richard Siani told the Associated Press, “but it was something she was doing temporarily to pay her way through school.”

No judgments. The Sianis also had to bear the aforementioned media storm. The Philadelphia Daily News devoted four reporters and three pages to her story, “Death of a Dancer,” on April 17, 2000.

Meanwhile, no one seemed to use words like “lecher” or “sleazy character” to describe Jack Denofa for spending money vying for the attention of younger women while he had a wife at home. News stories referred to him as a “businessman.”

But the law considered him a dangerous individual.

Declining to testify. A judge originally set Jack’s bail at $1 million but later reduced it $500,000 and required him to turn over his passport. More than 20 of his friends showed up for the bail hearing and some of them chipped in toward the cause, according to an AP account.

At the month-long trial, Jack declined to take the stand, a wise move as recounting his days as a stripper patron too tipsy to drive himself home probably wouldn’t have helped the case.

Nonetheless, the defense produced 11 witnesses who testified about his “reputation for truth and honesty’ and “issues of habit and custom,” according to court papers.

Breadwinner. His mother-in-law, JoAnn Zener, even took the stand in his defense.

She testified that Jack was a good guy and that, although she didn’t like his boozy trips to the lap-dance emporium, “that was his time of relaxation with people he knew who accepted his drinking and accepted him,” the Philadelphia Inquirer reported.

Zener noted that her son-in-law made a nice living and took good care of Lisa Denofa.

Throwing off suspicion. To their credit, Denofa and defense lawyer Albert Cepparulo didn’t try the classic “she attacked me first and died by accident while I was defending myself” ploy (see Jonathan Nyce and Richard Nyhuis).

But they did go the trash-the-victim route.

“She had a number of lovers, and a number of men wanted to be the only man,” Cepparulo said. He also contended that Rachel used drugs heavily and knew motorcycle gang members who might have killed her.

Richard Siani said that it seemed as though his daughter were on trial rather than her killer.

Speedy verdict. Fortunately, members of the jury didn’t feel that way.

After deliberating for two hours, they found him guilty on Nov. 29, 2002.

Before leading him away, officers allowed him to hug his “wailing” wife and his mother. “The constricted position hindered his usual swagger,” according to the Philadelphia Inquirer.

Lisa Denofa was helped to the elevator by John’s mother and sister.

No bail. “This part of it is over,” said Richard Siani, “but Rachel will not be with us at Thanksgiving or at Christmas.”

Rachel Siani's long white Lincoln
Detectives at first theorized that whoever killed Rachel Siani deliberately punctured a tire on her Lincoln so she’d accept a ride

Judge Thomas Smith deemed Denofa a flight risk and revoked his bail, so he stayed in jail between the hearing and the sentencing in February 2003 — when he made his first public statement since his arrest three years earlier.

“I am not a murderer. I have been wrongly convicted,” Denofa said. “I grieve for Rachel and her loved ones…I pray every day her killer will be found.”

Interstate intrigue. The judge gave him a sentence of life with a chance at parole after 30 years.

Jack Denofa “raised his cuffed hands to his lips and blew a kiss to his wife, Lisa,” as officers led him away, the Philadelphia Inquirer reported.

In 2005, Jack won a new trial based on a claim that the judge didn’t make it clear to the jury that they could only reach a guilty verdict if they believed Rachel died in New Jersey rather than Pennsylvania.

Defense drains dad. His lawyers argued that three different autopsies had each yielded a different cause of death.

The decision meant he could apply for bail, which a judge set at $1 million. His father, also named Jack, who had underwritten the cost of the defense for the first trial, said that this time his son wouldn’t make bail and would have to use a public defender.

“All my money is gone,” the senior Denofa said, according to the Philadelphia Inquirer. “I spent it on attorneys.”

Living to the max. The New Jersey Supreme Court reinstated Jack Denofa’s “where did she die conviction” in 2006.

A mug shot of Jack Denofa

In 2017, a court denied a writ of habeas corpus petition that Denofa filed.

Today, John Denofa resides in the New Jersey State Prison, a maximum security facility built in 1836 and formerly known as Trenton State Prison.

Wait, there’s more. He is still maneuvering to get out earlier than in 2032 — when, at the age of 68, he’ll have a shot at parole.

Incidentally, the venerable Diva’s International Gentlemen’s Club found its way into the spotlight again, when HBO used it as the setting for the reality show G-String Divas.

One of the divas, Shannon Reinert, might be familar to Forensic Files viewers because she figured into the 2005 episode “Summer Obsession.”

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


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Rachael Mullenix’s Brother Speaks Out

Alex Hagood’s Perspective on Barbara Mullenix’s Life and Death
(“Runaway Love,” Forensic Files)

Updated with information from October 2022

When a jury contemplated the young couple who ended Barbara Mullenix’s life, the term “mitigating circumstances” probably didn’t come to mind.

Rachael Mullenix in a black and white head and shoulders shot
Rachael Mullenix

Barbara, a 56-year-old dreamer still hoping for an acting career, sustained dozens of stab wounds from at least two weapons, including a dining utensil left deeply embedded in one of her eyes.

The attackers placed her body in a cardboard box, which they slid into the water at the Newport Harbor Yacht Club, nine miles away from her home in Huntington Beach, California, in 2006.

Afterward, the perpetrators took a joy ride through Florida and Louisiana.

The murderers were Ian Allen, 21, and his girlfriend of three months, 17-year-old Rachael Scarlett Mullenix — Barbara’s daughter.

To most viewers of “Runaway Love,” the Forensic Files episode about the case, the homicide seemed like a betrayal of biblical proportions, a woefully entitled girl snuffing out the life of the woman who gave her life.

But as it turns out, Barbara’s son, Alex Hagood, thinks Rachael was more a victim than a predator.

Alex, who is Rachael’s half brother, would like the world to know that there’s a lot more to the story than the 22 minutes of true-crime TV that vilified Rachael for all the world to see.

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In a phone interview with ForensicFilesNow.com, Alex discussed his tumultuous home life with his mother and his love for his younger half-sister:

What was your sister like? Growing up, Rachael was a good kid. She made good grades. She was on a couple of basketball teams, she did ballet, and she did gymnastics. The press tried to portray her as this horrible person, and she wasn’t.

Rachael said that your mother could be a lot of fun at times. Did you find the same? I’d have my friends come over and they’d think my mom was cool. She would buy us popsicles or root beers or whatever. And then the minute they were gone, I thought, they didn’t know her.

Rachael and Barbara Mullenix embracing happily
Rachael and Barbara Mullenix

She could be like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. My girlfriend at the time could see it.

Was your mother trying to protect Rachael from Ian by attempting to stop them from running away together? Before my mother’s death, there were lots of drugs and alcohol around — she liked Skyy vodka and took uppers and downers, and she would party with Ian and Rachael.

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My mother realized that Rachael and Ian wanted to go away. She couldn’t make it on her own without alimony and child support, so she didn’t want Rachael to leave.

You’ve said that you doubt the allegations that Rachael had already attacked your mother with a knife in a failed murder attempt in 2005. Why? I moved in with my mother in 2003 when she lived in Oklahoma. A couple of times when I was about to leave, she self-inflicted wounds and threatened to say I did it. She chased me around with a baseball bat. Rachael told me about this same kind of behavior.

Barbara wanted to be the creator and control everyone. She wanted to be the center of attention. If you have children, it’s not like, let’s make a movie – you can’t just push reset.

Emotionally and mentally, she choked Rachael.

Alex Hagood with a colleague
Alex Hagood, left, works as a mechanic in Oregon

Do you believe the contentions that Barbara would deliberately try to embarrass and humiliate Rachael? My mom would call our jobs, our bosses and start problems for no reason. She did it because she felt she was losing control of us. But you can’t do stuff like that. Bosses will fire you.

My stepfather traveled a lot for his job, so he wasn’t always around for Rachael. I tried to protect her. But I had to get out on my own and away from my mother. I moved to Oregon to let everything cool off. I thought my mother would never find me there. She found me in two weeks and she’d call my job.

I’m shocked that the murder happened, but then I’m not. You can’t go around treating people like that and think nothing will happen. At any time, anything can spin out of control.

Do you think Rachael participated in the murder? If anything, Ian was the one behind planning everything. He had a third person.

Were things ever good between Rachael and your mother? The first few years of Rachael’s life, yes, my mother was calm. She dressed Rachael in the best clothes and taught her the best manners.

Ian Allen in a headshot with spiky hair
Ian Allen

How have you yourself coped with the murder? It’s taken me 10 years to work through it. I went back to college, got associate’s degrees, one in psychology. I wanted to see what I could make of myself in the aftermath.

Would you like to see Rachael released from jail? Absolutely. She’s suffered enough. I haven’t been able to hug her since 2005.

Rachael Mullenix was released from prison on October 14, 2022 and is with her father, Bruce, in Southern California, according to a tipster. The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation no longer lists her as an inmate.

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


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Crystal Faye Todd: Murdered by a Pal

Ken Register Takes Away a Mother’s Only Child
(“The Alibi,” Forensic Files)

Before launching into the recap, I wanted to offer good wishes and empathy from here in the epicenter as everyone copes with the coronavirus pandemic.

Ken Register and Crystal Todd in a swimming pool
Ken Register and Crystal Todd

The Crystal Todd case seems like a good choice for this week’s post, because it includes extensive on-camera interviews with such a sympathetic protagonist.

Even toward the end of the show, when Bonnie Todd says she wishes that her daughter’s murderer got the electric chair, she does so in her own gentle way.

Surprise package. The case distinguished itself as the first time that South Carolina prosecutors used DNA as evidence, but what really made the episode memorable was the way it portrayed a mother’s love.

Bonnie talked about being grateful for having a baby at 39 — a common age for a first pregnancy today but not so much back in the early 1970s.

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“She was a miracle to me,” Bonnie said. “I just couldn’t believe I had her, and I was proud of her, too.”

Odd wrinkle in case. The two were close. Crystal had confided in Bonnie that best buddy Ken Register, 18, got a little out of line with her once. But neither could foresee the savagery he unleashed on the night of Nov. 17, 1991.

For this week, I searched for information on what happened to Bonnie Todd from the time the Forensic Files episode first aired in 2002 to her death in 2014. I also looked into Ken Register’s whereabouts today.

In the process, I discovered an unusual twist in the case that either happened after the Forensic Files episode finished production or was just too weird for the show’s producers to mentally process. Frankly, I’m having a little trouble with it, too.

Dad gone too soon. So let’s get started on a recap of the “The Alibi,” along with additional information drawn from internet research:

Crystal Faye Todd was born on Jan. 4, 1974, in Conway, South Carolina. Her father, Junior Todd, died when she was 11, but she grew into a happy, fun-loving teenager, according to Forensic Files.

Crystal and Bonnie Todd
Crystal and Bonnie Todd

After Crystal and a girlfriend attended a party on the evening of Nov. 17, 1991, the friend dropped Crystal off in a mall parking lot where she’d left her brand-new Celica.

Women’s intuition. When Crystal didn’t come home by her midnight deadline, her mother called the Horry County police. She was so overcome with anxiety that the police at first could barely make out her words or tell whether the caller was a man or a woman, according to the book An Hour to Kill: The True Story of Love, Murder, and Justice in a Small Southern Town by Dale Hudson and Billy Hills.

Next, she contacted her daughter’s longtime close friend Ken Register, who said that he hadn’t seen Crystal all night and that he would check the local hospitals, according to the ID Network series Stolen Voices, Buried Secrets.

Bonnie located her daughter’s vacant blue 1991 Toyota, which she’d given her for an early graduation present, in a middle school parking lot.

Disturbing to pros. Sadly, Bonnie didn’t have to wait long to justify her sense of dread.

Hunters found the body of a teenage girl in a ditch the next day. She was wearing a class ring with a shiny purple gemstone and “Crystal Faye Todd” engraved inside.

The murder scene horrified even veteran homicide detectives. In addition to bruises and abrasions, Crystal had 31 cut and stab wounds, including an ear-to-ear gash across the throat, according to court papers.

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Lecherous outsider. They found a defensive injury on Crystal’s left hand, but she was no match for the attacker’s weapon, which investigators believe was a 3.5-inch knife with a locking blade.

At first, police had a promising suspect in dark, handsome Andy Tyndall, a grown man who liked to hang around teenage girls. Crystal had known him for a week and already had a little crush on him, according to “Killer Instinct,” a 2011 episode of Stolen Voices, Buried Secrets.

Although Crystal and her friends could tell Andy Tyndall was past high school age, they probably didn’t know he was married and wanted by Alabama authorities on a felony charge.

Call the clairvoyants. When law officers came to arrest him in South Carolina, he fled on foot into the woods, with tracker dogs in pursuit.

But all the drama was for naught. Andy Tyndall was quickly cleared.

Next up, investigators turned to criminal profilers. They predicted that the killer would be an angry young white male who was confident the law wouldn’t catch him — and he was probably a friend of the victim.

Low-rise brick building in the historic district of Conway South Carolina
Ken Register’s murder trial was the longest and most eventful in the history of Conway, population of 21,000

Revealing genes. Local homicide detective Bill Knowles, who had just visited the FBI Academy, suggested adding the then-new science of DNA testing to the investigation.

Police asked 51 of Crystal’s male friends and acquaintances if they would give samples.

They all said yes.

A lab determined that DNA from the rape kit matched none other than Ken Register — full name, Johnnie Kenneth Register II — the blond-haired blue-eyed onetime varsity football player who Crystal considered her best pal.

Police arrested him in February 1992.

Sterling reputation. Bonnie knew that Ken Register had once offended Crystal by propositioning her for sex despite that he had a girlfriend, but he was the last person she suspected of the murder.

“He’s been our friend for years and years,” said Bonnie, the Herald Rock Hill reported. “He was everybody’s friend around here.”

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Ken and Crystal had dated briefly in their early teens and stayed happily friend-zoned afterward, and he seemed like an asset to the community. He got good grades in school and helped out by scrubbing floors at the little church his family attended. He and his father, Kenny, had recently built a wooden altar for the congregation, according to An Hour to Kill.

Just got tarnished. Little did Crystal’s mother know that Ken had a police record for exposing himself to two Coastal Carolina University students not long before Crystal’s disappearance.

It was not the first time that Ken had come to law enforcement’s attention. At 15, he did something that suggested he was no ordinary budding pervert.

He made an obscene phone call to a grown woman and described in sickening detail how he wanted to slit her body open and kill her — in the same way he eventually murdered Crystal, according to Stolen Voices, Buried Secrets.

Registering an excuse. Ken might have enjoyed menacing women with talk about blood and gore, but he probably didn’t realize that different bodily fluids contain the same telltale genetic code, which is why he willingly gave samples for DNA testing.

Bonnie and Junior Todd with Crystal as a baby
Bonnie, Crystal, and Junior Todd

Forensic evidence notwithstanding, Ken had alibis. His girlfriend said they were together at the Dodge City go-cart track in the town of Aynor on the night Crystal died.

In an on-camera interview, Ken’s mother, Shirley Register, sweetly explained that her son got home from his date too early to match the timeline of the crime.

He needed his mom. Nonetheless, law officers arrested Ken Register on Feb. 18, 1992.

While riding in the police car, he asked twice for his mother, according to court papers.

At first, Ken didn’t want to answer questions without his mother present, so officers went to Shirley Register’s house to pick her up, but instead she gave them a note to hand off to her son.

Unauthorized revision. According to Forensic Files, the note told Ken to clam up until they got a lawyer. But court papers said that she simply wrote that she loved him and knew he was innocent.

It mattered little because police, who are legally entitled to lie while questioning a suspect, told him that they had found his footprints at the murder scene (they didn’t) and that the note from his mother instructed him to tell the truth (it didn’t).

The interrogation tricks worked. Ken cracked.

Hidden blade. The night of the murder, he and Crystal spotted each other at a traffic light, he said. She then parked her car at the middle school and got into his vehicle, where they had consensual sex — but she threatened to accuse of him of rape, so he panicked and stabbed her, he contended.

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Investigators begged to differ. There was no consensual sex. She had severe wounding consistent with rape. After killing her, Ken further defiled and stabbed her body, investigators determined.

They never found the murder weapon. Ken said he tossed away the knife as far as he could near the scene of the crime, according to an AP account.

What a spectacle. As if Ken needed any more bad publicity, in a separate court action before his homicide trial kicked off, he was found guilty of exposing himself to the college students. Ken claimed he was actually clothed during the incident and that he stood up in his car and shimmied himself around because the women “wouldn’t give me the time of day” and “made me feel like trash,” according to An Hour to Kill.

The homicide trial didn’t go so well either.

In front of 400 spectators, Ken Register was convicted of Crystal Todd’s sexual assault, murder, and kidnapping.

Girlfriend backs away. The jury declined to give him the death penalty because of his young age. Circuit Judge Edward B. Cottingham sentenced him to life without parole and 35 years to be served consecutively.

Ken’s sweetheart, Angela Rabon, made a few “dutiful” visits to him in prison, then wrote him a breakup letter and headed to college, according to An Hour to Kill.

Crystal Todd’s car had a custom-made license plate that said C TODD.

Over the years, Ken and defense attorneys Morgan Martin and Tommy Brittain made efforts to get him out of prison on two feet.

Character assassination. In 1996, the supreme court of South Carolina was not impressed by Register’s claims that police violated his rights during questioning and that the DNA testing method was below par. In fact, the prosecution had given the defense an opportunity to do its own independent DNA tests, but Ken Register told his lawyers not to, according to An Hour to Kill.

Ken also tried the requisite smear-the-victim ploy in hopes that some nefarious acquaintance of hers would be accused. He said that he heard rumors that Crystal used drugs and he had seen her drink alcohol and smoke marijuana, contradicting his own statement from 1992 that he had never seen Crystal using marijuana, according to reporting from the Horry Independent.

He claimed he initially lied because he didn’t want Crystal’s alleged drug use to somehow sully his own reputation — he had only used the recreational drug a few times in his life when someone happened to pass around a joint, Ken said, as reported by the Horry Independent on Feb. 3, 2000.

Oh, please. Always a gentleman, Register also said he didn’t know whether it was true, but he heard rumors that Crystal “slept around” and that she had helped distribute LSD, the Horry Independent reported.

Shirley Register chimed in, saying she heard Crystal would sometimes leave a party with one guy, then return to pick up another guy or two. She also tried to lend credence to the drug-dealing theory by suggesting that Bonnie and Crystal had too meager a combined legitimate income to afford their lifestyle — and that Crystal rode to school with a student rumored to sell LSD, according to the Horry Independent.

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Ken claimed that, at the same time that Crystal’s morals were deteriorating, he himself was embarking on the straight and narrow, thanks to his serious relationship with Angela Rabon.

Writer in their corner. Though vexing to Crystal’s friends and family, the Registers’ tactics are pretty standard, something Forensic Files watchers have seen countless times.

The outlandish twist in the case came after a world-famous author caught the trial coverage on court TV.

Mickey Spillane, writer of the 1940s detective mystery novel “I, the Jury” — and 25 other books in that genre that sold a total of 200 million copies — thought Ken Register got a raw deal.

Audience with a convict. He and his wife, Jane Spillane, who lived in Murrells Inlet, South Carolina, believed prosecutor Ralph Wilson framed him.

The Spillanes met with Ken in person and “came to the conclusion that the young man was incapable of committing such a heinous act,” the Washington Post would later report.

Jane Spillane went so far as to run for county prosecutor herself so that she could personally bestow justice upon Ken.

Drama continues. She didn’t win, and both Spillanes later admitted that the law had weighty evidence against Ken Register. They ultimately concluded that Crystal’s murder couldn’t be the work of a single assailant.

Ken Register in a recent mug shot
Ken Register, seen here in a 2018 mug shot, is eligible for parole in 2022

The justices of the U.S. Supreme Court, however, didn’t find Ken Register particularly endearing and refused to hear his case.

Ken’s bid for post-conviction relief failed as well. “It’s the best thing I’ve heard in a while,” Bonnie Todd commented upon the ruling, as reported by the Charlotte Observer.

Gang assault. Today, Ken Register resides in Broad River Correctional Institution, a high-security prison that houses South Carolina’s death chamber.

The Department of Corrections doesn’t list any escape attempts or disciplinary problems for Ken. And at 5’8″ and 223 pounds, he isn’t staging any hunger strikes either.

It would serve him well to keep a low profile. In 2019, DOC police charged a female Broad River guard after she allegedly unlocked an inmate’s door and allowed 11 other prisoners to enter his cell and beat him up.

Closing the loop. Fortunately for Ken himself, he still has a large support network of family members living in and around Conway, South Carolina, to speak up for him should he face abuse while on the inside.

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But enough about Ken Register — what about the mother of the girl whose life he took?

By the time Bonnie appeared on Forensic Files in 2002, Crystal had been gone for 11 years, but her melancholy clearly hadn’t lifted.

Sojourn to Gotham. The murder “devastated her more so than any other family member I’ve ever dealt with,” longtime Horry County homicide detective Bill Knowles would later tell a local ABC affiliate.

But Bonnie, who told Forensic Files that the only time she wasn’t thinking about Crystal was when she was sleeping, did get to have a bit of an adventure.

In the 1990s, she traveled to New York City to appear on Sally Jesse Raphael’s popular talk show along with county prosecutor Ralph Wilson, who later recalled that Bonnie packed instant grits in her travel bags in case Manhattan’s eateries didn’t serve them, according to a Sun News account.

Honored with a song. She also enjoyed a friendship with Ralph Wilson for years after Register’s conviction and often brought him small gifts of food from a garden she cultivated.

Bonnie Faye Todd died at age 79 on Sept. 3, 2014.

Toward the end of her life, she had become close to a niece who she “affectionately referred to” as her “adopted daughter,” according to Bonnie’s obituary.

A music video that two local gospel singers made as a tribute to Bonnie and her lost daughter has so far scored 12,000 hits on YouTube.

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


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