Forensic Files Archives - Page 13 of 22

Molly and Clay Daniels: Some Body They Didn’t Use to Know

Sobering crime behind a laughable scheme
(“Grave Danger,” Forensic Files)

Anyone who watches the “Grave Danger” episode of Forensic Files can’t help but be taken aback by the ridiculousness of Molly and Clayton Daniels’ crime.

Molly, an office receptionist, and Clay, an unemployed mechanic, robbed the grave of Charlotte Davis — who had died at the age of 81 in 2003 — then placed her body in a Chevrolet Cavalier along with some of Clay’s belongings. They pushed the vehicle off the road and set it on fire on June 18, 2004, in the hopes of collecting $110,000 in life insurance money upon Clay’s “death.”

OMG, it’s working. At first, things went as planned for the Leander, Texas, couple. Family members identified items from the burned car as having belonged to Clay. Molly used her new status as a widow with two children to coax aid from sympathetic community members. Clay hid himself from public view.

But Molly, 21, and Clay, 24, had always intended to remain together. Instead of moving someplace far away where no one knew them, they stayed in the same area. Clay dyed his hair black, and Molly began introducing him as her new boyfriend, Jake Gregg.

That didn’t work out so well. The authorities caught on pronto. A DNA test proved the charred remains in the car belonged to someone other than Clay Daniels.

Worldwide ‘what?!’ The insurance company got justice at the subsequent trial, as did the late Charlotte Davis, when her former caretaker testified that the grave desecration made her heartsick.

The macabre element of Clay and Molly’s scheme may have made members of the general public shudder and grimace, but they still wanted to hear all the details. Prosecutor Jane Starnes wrote in an article in “The Texas Prosecutor” newsletter:

My sister-in-law in Hawaii called to say she read about me in the Hilo paper. Molly’s dirty deeds were reported in South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, and Ireland. A producer from CNN called. [A] People magazine reporter kept calling. A reporter from Tokyo called, asking insightful questions such as, “What color [was] Clayton Daniels’ hair before he dye[d] it black?” We got a call from a reporter in London from The Sunday Magazine.

Clay Daniels ended up receiving 30 years in prison for offenses including insurance fraud, arson, and desecration of a cemetery. Molly Daniels got 20 years for insurance fraud and hindering her husband’s apprehension. Molly’s family members took custody of the two small children the couple shared.

The redeeming part of this whole mess seemed to be that at least it didn’t cause bodily harm to any living person.

A live victim. But the motivation for the outlandish string of events had its roots in a real, devastating crime committed by Clay when he was 16 years old.

He raped a 7-year-old cousin of his circa 1996, although the assault came to light only years later. Clay pleaded guilty to aggravated sexual assault on a child and, under a deferred adjudication deal, had to serve 30 days in jail, to start on June 21, 2004, and then 10 years probation. His name would appear on the Registered Sex Offenders list.

Molly said on Dateline NBC that she believed the legal system had railroaded Clay and that a good man like him could have never molested a child. She wanted him to continue as a stay-at-home dad without any limitations on where they could live, and that’s why they hatched the insurance fraud plan, she explained.

Leniency…in Texas? Arson investigator Janine Mather, however, told Forensic Files that she believed Clay’s motivation was a reluctance to go to jail and appear on the RSO list.

But here’s the question that remains: Why did Clay initially get only 30 days in jail for rape? One third of the 30-year sentence he ultimately received was in connection to a “probation violation” for the aggravated sexual assault to his cousin — but that wasn’t handed down until after the burned-car caper.

I did a little nosing around online for information about Texas sexual assault laws and found that aggravated sexual assault on a child younger than 14 years of age, under certain circumstances, means a minimum sentence of 25 years. It’s automatically a minimum of 25 years if the child is under 6 years of age. But Clay’s little cousin was already 7 when the attack occurred.

The most recent U.S. Sentencing Commission fact sheet listed average sentences for sexual abuse offenders as 139 months to 235 months.

So had Clay Daniels done something to redeem himself in the years between the sexual assault he committed at 16 and his initial sentencing for that crime at age 24? It didn’t sound that way. “Grave Danger” mentions that, even during the eulogy at Clay’s funeral (held before he was discovered alive and raven-haired), his best buddy felt compelled to acknowledge that Clay was a seriously flawed character.

Minor on minor crime. The only, meager explanation I could find for the light sentence Clay received is suggested by a University of New Hampshire study commissioned by the U.S. Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention, which suggests that the age of an offender can affect sentencing favorably.

Clay Daniels with colored hair — Clay Daniels, dye job

The research revealed that “juveniles account for more than one-third (35.6 percent) of those known to police to have committed sex offenses against minors” — but that “a large majority (about 85–95 percent) of sex-offending youth have no arrests or reports for future sex crimes.”

That doesn’t mean, however, that these folks stay on the right side of the law: According to the UNH research, “[Of the youths who do] have future arrests, they are far more likely to be for nonsexual crimes such as property offenses.”

There’s one area in which Clay, with Molly’s help, exceeded everyone’s expectations.

Today, he’s an inmate in the Wallace Unit in Colorado City, Texas.

Molly served at least 12 years of her sentence and exited prison sometime after 2016. She is keeping a low profile. — RR

Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube

P.S. Below, please see a different explanation for Clay’s sentencing from reader Ash.

Debbie Dicus: A Deejay Signs off Too Soon

Ronald Blanchard Murders a Local Celebrity
(“Garden of Evil,” Forensic Files)

Gardening offers a break from the stress of commuting, worrying about money, and listening to your boss hear himself talk.

The city of Hampton, Virginia, provides community gardens for locals who want to rent a parcel of land for growing flowers or vegetables.

For Debbie Dicus, once a popular radio host on WWDE-FM in Norfolk, Virginia, the plot she used to grow vegetables in the community garden was probably a nice change from the sterile confinement of the studio.

Bad seed. Ronald Earl Blanchard enjoyed open spaces, too, but he paid homage to them in a different way.

When a housing development in Poquoson threatened to crowd out the woodlands around the trailer park where he lived with his grandparents, he and an associate set fire to one of the offending homes, the Daily Press of Newport News, Virginia, reported.

Photo of the book Forensic Files Now — Book available in stores or online

He got himself a suspended sentence for that stunt, a surprisingly meager punishment in light of the fact that Blanchard, his two brothers, and their father, Joseph, were well known to local law enforcement.

Young felon. But nothing suggested that Ronald Blanchard would turn into a murderer and would-be rapist until May 9, 1987, when Blanchard either happened upon, or set out to ambush, Debbie Dicus as she was tending to her vegetables in the community garden.

Blanchard was barely out of his teens when he committed the homicide, so for this week, I checked to see whether he’s still in prison.

So let’s get started on a recap of the Forensic Files episode “Garden of Evil,” along with information drawn from internet research.

Ronald Blanchard, who murdered Debbie Dicus — Ronald Blanchard

In May of 1987, Hampton police got a phone call reporting the body of a woman in a ditch near the community garden.

Violent struggle. The call came from Ronald Blanchard, a 20-year-old married father who said he stumbled upon the body while hunting for birds nearby.

First responders found Debbie Dicus, 31. She’d been beaten with a rifle and the wooden handle of a hoe and strangled. Some of her clothing had been ripped off, but she hadn’t been raped.

Dicus, a native of Greensboro, North Carolina, lived in downtown Hampton. She worked as a DJ for about three years at WWDE-FM and before that at station WTAR.

Sweet disposition. The late-night radio show that Dicus hosted was a mix of personal talk and music.

Her boyfriend, William Campbell, also worked as a DJ at the same station.

She liked her job but told friends she worried that one day a deranged listener would break into the studio and rape and kill her, according to Forensic Files.

When her murder premonition came true (except that it happened far from the radio station and it wasn’t clear whether the killer was a listener), it shocked locals in the friendly low-crime area around Hampton.

Dicus’ mother, Jean Reece Willison, heard the tragic news on Mother’s Day. She told the Daily Press that Debbie “loved everyone, people, animals, nature. She wouldn’t even kill a fly.”

Speedy police-work. Fortunately, investigators were able to solve the case quickly. A tracker dog named Rody sniffed the hoe handle used in the homicide and picked up the same scent on one of the bystanders near the crime scene: Ronald Blanchard.

Police arrested Blanchard four days after the murder, and a judge set bail at $130,000. A group of supporters came up with the money for Blanchard, whose own finances were a mess.

Thanks to the earlier arson incident, Blanchard owed Hartford Mutual Insurance $68,671 and he and his wife had to declare bankruptcy, the Daily Press reported on September 30, 1987. Paperwork listed the total value of the couple’s assets at $597.

Rape suspect. But Blanchard’s motive for the attack on Debbie Dicus wasn’t robbery. He didn’t steal the handbag sitting in her unlocked car.

He got to enjoy seven months of freedom between his arrest and the conclusion of the trial, which kicked off on October 27, 1988.

Prosecutors alleged that Blanchard intended to rape Dicus and killed her when she fought back. When he returned home to his wife, also named Debbie, she saw the blood on his hands and clothing, so he told her that he had found a body, and then called 911 to substantiate his story, prosecutors contended.

Murderer Ronald Blanchard and his wife, Debbie, during his trial for the homicide of Debbie Dicus — A *Daily Press* clipping

Odd demo. Investigators think that Dicus and Blanchard might have exchanged unfriendly words on at least one prior occasion. She once mentioned that she argued with a man about his hunting for birds too close to the garden.

To prove the prosecution’s theory that blood splatter on Blanchard’s white T-shirt came from beating Dicus, the prosecution performed a test using a hoe handle and a helmet with a blood-soaked sponge attached. Thankfully, the test took place outside and not in the courtroom.

Other evidence included fragments of the victim’s hair on Blanchard’s rifle, which police believed he used to beat her. They also found a broken-off piece of its cocking mechanism at the scene, more evidence of violence.

On the witness stand, Blanchard said that the damage to the gun happened when he dropped it at the scene in his rush to help Dicus.

Plaintive request. His testimony didn’t impress the jurors. On April 8, 1988, they convicted Blanchard of first-degree homicide, attempted rape, sexual assault, abduction, and use of a gun in a crime.

Blanchard’s wife, Debbie, burst into tears and cried out, “Can I give him a hug?” as deputies escorted her 21-year-old husband out of the courtroom, the Daily Press reported.

Mark Dicus, the victim’s father, told reporters that Blanchard deserved the electric chair, according to the Daily Press/The Herald Times on April 9, 1988.

Hefty sentence. Virginia allows capital punishment, either by electrocution or lethal injection — the condemned individual gets to choose — but it wasn’t on the table in the Dicus murder case because the rape was attempted rather than completed.

Blanchard received the maximum allowed for his crimes, two life sentences plus 12 years.

Ronald Blanchard, killer of Debbie Dicus, in a recent mugshot — Ronald Blanchard in a recent mugshot

Today, Blanchard resides in a State Farm, Virginia, prison.

Stay in the pen. He no longer looks like Heath Ledger, but he appears healthy and well fed at 5’8 inches and 190 pounds.

In 2006, Blanchard wrote a letter to Forensic Files producers that admitted his guilt in the murder and expressed regret for his crimes. Perhaps that explains why he hasn’t appealed his conviction over the years.

The possibility of parole remains, but it’s unlikely in the near future. In 2018, Virginia declined to grant Blanchard parole, noting his “history of violence” and “prior failures” while “under community supervision” and that parole would “diminish [the] seriousness of the crime.”

As far as updates for Debbie Dicus’ parents, there’s no recent information on her father, Mark, on the internet. As of 2009, her mother, Jean Willison, was living in Charlotte, North Carolina. (Her husband, Myron Willison — Debbie’s stepfather — died in 1997 at the age of 81.)

Good shepherd. Glennell Fullman, the K9 unit officer Forensic Files fans may remember from her appearance on “Garden of Evil,” has since retired.

Rody Von Braninck, the German shepherd who helped Fullman identify Ronald Blanchard as the killer, died at just 9 years of age, in 1989.

Rody, a German shepherd tracker dog, worked on hundreds of murder cases in Virginia — Rody on the case

But Rody accomplished a great deal in his short life.

The 110-pound canine operative worked on 700 cases, according to a Daily Press article about Rody, which also notes that, although he learned to attack viciously on command at a Swiss academy, he was kind and sweet to humans and other animals while off duty.

He even rescued a baby rabbit that strayed from its nest.

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

Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube or Amazon Prime

David Draheim: Uniformly Dangerous

A Flex-Cuf Solves Jeanette Kirby’s Murder
(“Bound for Jail,” Forensic Files)

It was an unlikely person who took down David Draheim — and for a reason that’s kind of, well, quaint.

Authorities desperately needed something to tie Draheim to Jeanette Kirby, a jogger found stabbed to death in a sprawling Michigan park in 1986.

There were no eyewitnesses, and heavy rainfall had washed away any forensic evidence. Twelve years passed before police got a solid lead — and when they did, it came from none other than Draheim’s best buddy.

Bromantic story. Mark Greko and Draheim had once shared an apartment. Here’s the cute part: Greko was a self-admitted pack rat. He plucked an old item out of storage that shifted the stalled investigation into overdrive.

For this week, I looked around to find out what’s happened to Draheim and Greko since the Forensic Files episode “Bound for Jail” first aired in 2003, and also to learn a little bit more about Jeanette Kirby. Forensic Files mentions that she was in her mid-30s and divorced, but that’s about it.

Cause for alarm. Here’s a recap of the episode along with extra information drawn from internet research:

A retired nurse named Muriel Kirby got worried one day after her daughter missed their breakfast date on June 11, 1986.

No one had heard from Jeanette Kirby since she went for a jog in Riverbend Park in Ingham County, Michigan, on the previous day.

Murderer David Draheim as a young man — David Draheim

Twist of fate. Jeanette hadn’t shown up at her job as a Medicare analyst and didn’t call.

According to the Investigation Discovery network’s Stolen Voices, Buried Secrets, Jeanette had once hoped to embark on a career in law enforcement.

But she suffered from rheumatic fever as a child and missed a whole year of school. She recovered, but her heart wasn’t quite strong enough to do whatever one has to do to graduate from a police academy, according to “A Walk in the Park,” the ID network series’ episode about her murder.

Her cousin Nancy Bishop remembered Jeanette as kind and loving.

Awful discovery. The area where the Kirbys lived in Ingham County was known for being safe — until Jeanette went missing on June 11, 1986.

Jeanette’s empty car was discovered near Riverbend Park. A search party formed and, on June 12, 1986, Jeanette’s friend James Hornyak spotted what he at first thought was a mannequin in a ravine a half-mile away.

Hornyak later said on the A&E series Cold Case Files that nothing he’d witnessed in combat during the Vietnam War was as frightening as Jeanette Kirby’s murder scene.

Unfortunately, the site surrounding her body didn’t yield much evidence. The storm had obliterated any footprints or fingerprints.

Jeanette Kirby as a child with her mother Muriiel Kirby, father Paul Kirby and brother Joe Kirby — Jeanette, Paul, Muriel, and Joe Kirby

Work of a pro. The killer had cut off Jeanette Kirby’s clothes and tied her wrists with Flex-Cufs — the plastic hand restraints police often use. He had strangled Kirby and stabbed her to death.

Media accounts vary as to whether or not she was raped.

Because of the Flex-Cufs, local police wondered if one of their own could be responsible for the crime.

“This is someone with training, knowledge, and expertise in how to attack, disarm, and handcuff and then kill an individual in rapid succession,” Detective Pete Ackerly of the Ingham County Sheriff’s office said during his Stolen Voices, Buried Secrets interview.

But an investigation never turned up any suspects of note in local law enforcement.

The Flex-Cuf’s tiny metal tab solved the case

Bogus traffic stop. The Kirby case went cold.

Four years later, in 1990, an imposingly tall man impersonating a Michigan law officer stopped a female motorist and tried to force her into his truck. He threatened her with a 9-millimeter handgun and fired a warning shot in the air.

She resisted, and he fled the scene without her.

Golden boy. A gas station receipt identified the driver as David Draheim. He was a 33-year-old worker at a wastewater treatment plant in Holt.

The sandy-haired blue-eyed ex-Marine was also a volunteer firefighter. He had a good reputation and no criminal record.

Local law officials had no idea that the man they knew as an asset to the community was using an Ingham County sheriff’s hat and police-style flashing lights in an attempt to waylay women.

Waitress terrorized. But the knife and plastic handcuffs found in Draheim’s vehicle were different from those used on Jeanette Kirby, and the failed abduction took place 200 miles away, in Leelanau County.

Police still couldn’t connect Draheim with the murder.

Jeanette Kirby's brother, Joe Kirby, and mother, Muriel Kirby in court — Muriel Kirby and her son, Joe, react to the verdict

But the 6-foot-6-inch-tall Draheim received 40 years in prison for the attempted kidnapping of the female motorist as well as crimes from 1989 that Forensic Files didn’t reveal — two counts of first-degree criminal sexual conduct with a weapon, according to the Michigan Department of Corrections.

Draheim had repeatedly raped a waitress after pretending to be a good samaritan who wanted to help her fix a flat tire. She didn’t report the attack until years later because he threatened to kill her if she did, according to “The Cuff Link,” the Cold Case Files episode about the case.

Friend in a high place. Meanwhile, the Kirby case went cold again — until 12 years after the murder, when Muriel Kirby found a sympathetic ear in Michigan’s new attorney general.

Jennifer Granholm assigned two investigators to reopen Jeanette’s case.

They decided it was a good idea to interview Mark Greko, the aforementioned Draheim pal.

While living together in the early 1980s, both men had worked as security guards. During this same time, Greko found a stash of Flex-Cufs inside an old state police car he was rehabbing.

Mark Greko, David Draheim's best friend, during his Forensic Files appearance — Mark Greko during his *Forensic Files* appearance

Tab settles it. Greko said he remembered using one Flex-Cuf for a repair and wrapping a second one around the brim of the hat he wore as part of his old uniform.

He gave the rest of the Flex-Cufs to his roomie, David Draheim.

Greko singlehandedly turned Kirby’s case from ice-cold to red-hot by digging through his storage area and plucking out his ancient security guard hat — with the Flex-Cuf still attached. Being a pack rat paid off.

Hand restraints in tow. Investigators found the same distinctive production markings on the metal tab of the Flex-Cuf used on Jeanette Kirby and the one from Draheim’s pal’s hat. They came from the same batch manufactured in 1979.

Finally, authorities charged David Draheim with murder.

At the 2002 trial, Draheim’s wife testified that he routinely took Flex-Cufs with him when he went jogging.

Mother gets results. Another woman, a former acquaintance of Draheim’s, told the court that he had Flex-Cuf’ed her once.

Prosecutors contended that Draheim was scouting for a random victim when he spotted Kirby jogging and ambushed her on that day in 1986.

The jury found Draheim guilty of second-degree homicide, and he received 60 to 90 years on top of the 40 years he was already serving.

It was a long time to wait, but mild-mannered Muriel Kirby’s persistence got results.

Epilogue and updates: So where are the parties today?

David Draheim is serving his time at Saginaw Correctional Facility in Level II security, which probably means he’s behaved himself while incarcerated.

On Jmail, a service that allows inmates to seek pen pals, he identifies himself as a 295-pound bodybuilder who’s “sensitive to other people’s feelings” with “true family values.”

Draheim, who says he’s looking for a woman to correspond with, claims that there are doubts about his guilt.

David Draheim in court and in a recent mugshot — David Draheim in court in 2002 and in a 2016 mugshot

The innocence website hvots.altervista.org notes that Draheim saved several people’s lives through his firefighting work.

Draheim will be eligible for parole in 2050, when he’s 93 years old.

After her daughter’s death, Muriel Kirby started a chapter of Parents of Murdered Children and also added her voice to the Victims in the Media program at Michigan State University.

Unfortunately, her husband, Paul, had died in 1999, without seeing his daughter’s killer brought to justice. Muriel herself died at the age of 84 in 2006.

As for Mark Greko, the Investigation Discovery episode produced in 2012 used the pseudonym Mark Smith for him, which probably means he prefers not to be asked about the case anymore.

Greko still lives in Holt, Michigan, and works as a security guard for a mental health facility and as a rescue worker for the Ingham County Sheriff’s Office, according to his LinkedIn profile and other information available online.

Jeanette Kirby as a child at the beach — Jeanette Kirby

Incidentally, in case anyone has the wrong idea about Greko, it should be pointed out that a pack rat isn’t the same thing as a hoarder.

While hoarders live among mountains of junk and other stuff they’ll never need, pack rats squirrel away things that may prove useful some day.

And speaking of useful, Jennifer Granholm went on to serve as Michigan’s governor and is often credited with helping to save Detroit’s auto industry in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis.

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

Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube or Amazon Prime

Kathleen Foley (aka Katy Doyle) Kills for a Player

Q&A with Prosecutor Michael McIntyre
(“When the Dust Settled,” Forensic Files)

After three hours of fruitlessly combing the internet for an epilogue for “Katy Doyle,” I tried watching “When the Dust Settled” one more time.

Murder victim Joseph Foley and Kathleen Foley — Joe and Kathleen Foley in happier times

Sure enough, the end credits of the Forensic Files episode said that some names had been changed.

It turns out that the woman who murdered her husband so she could divert all of her bandwidth to a workplace Romeo was actually named Kathleen Ann Foley.

Her husband, whom she shot four times in his sleep on July 30, 1998, was Joe Foley.

Kathleen, a 36-year-old psychiatric aide at Allentown State Hospital in Pennsylvania, probably didn’t know that her boyfriend, George Fleming, was romancing another woman on the side, but she certainly knew that he was married.

Nonetheless, Kathleen happily cashed in a $1,177 savings bond to give George, who worked in housekeeping at the hospital, a down payment on a Chrysler Concord.

While the widow was looking forward to using her husband’s $212,000 life insurance payout to underwrite new escapades with her Casanova, the police were slowly building a case against her. They didn’t believe her story that an anonymous intruder killed her husband.

Results of an autopsy on Joe Foley, a union official and recreational therapist at the hospital, conflicted with the timeline of the story that Kathleen offered. And the clothing at the crime scene was arranged the wrong way.

Allentown State Hospital, where the Foleys and Fleming worked, closed in 2010

Still, Kathleen Foley maintained that an unknown thief took her husband’s life, and her defense lawyer tried to finger everyone from a local trade organization to a foreign terrorist group.

A Lehigh County jury rejected those contentions, and she received a life sentence on October 2, 2000.

But the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections doesn’t list a “Kathleen Foley” as an inmate, and newspapers haven’t mentioned her name in years.

What happened to her?

Fortunately, former District Attorney Michael P. McIntyre, who prosecuted Kathleen in 2000, agreed to fill in a few blanks about the case for forensicfilesnow.com. Following are excerpts from our phone conversation:

Michael McIntyre, Lehigh County prosecutor — Prosecutor Michael McIntyre in his *Forensic Files* appearance

Did anything about the case surprise you? I handled it from the arrest through the trial — I was the one pressing for the arrest. The amazing thing is how she remained free for 15 months after she shot her husband. It was soon after the time of the OJ Simpson trial, and the defense came up with the mantra “rush to judgment,” and investigators didn’t want to do that anymore.

What did you think George Fleming’s role was in the crime? The boyfriend was the whole impetus for this killing. Our theory was that he was selling Kathleen on something like “go ahead and kill him.” But he had an iron-clad alibi. We couldn’t find anything on him. He testified for the prosecution. In my heart of hearts, I thought he might have had something to do with it, but we couldn’t prove it.

George Fleming, seen in a Forensic Files screen shot — The other man: George Fleming

Why did Forensic Files use the fictitious last name “Doyle” for Kathleen and Joe Foley? No clue.

I read that Joe Foley was one of nine children. Did you meet any of the siblings? Yes, I met at least two of them and they pushed for the prosecution. They assisted me and told me to talk to this person, talk to that person.

Was Joe Foley a prominent citizen around the area? Joe Foley was well-known in the Irish community. He started a program that brought poor Irish kids to the U.S. for the summer.

What do you recall about the defense’s attempt to shift the blame away from Kathleen Foley? I think there was some kind of defense that had to do with Joe’s work life with the union. Or over the Irish program — they were saying maybe the IRA did it. I never put any credence in it. It’s the defense’s job to come up with theories.

Kathleen Foley only made one appeal attempt. Did that surprise you? It’s very rare. There’s no downside [to an appeal], nothing to lose.

Kathleen Foley served her time in the SCI Muncy prison — what’s it like? I’ve never been there, but I think it’s brutal, one of our toughest prisons for women.

Pennsylvania doesn’t list Kathleen Foley as an inmate. Was she released? No. She died a year or two years ago.

Was a fellow inmate to blame? I heard it was natural causes, nothing traumatic.

How did you like working with Forensic Files? It was a good experience. They found some gunshot residue on the nightgown that she wore, and we used that as evidence.

Are you still working for Lehigh County? I retired from the DA’s office in 2001, but they brought me back for one more Forensic Files, the Patricia Rorrer case. It was my half hour of fame — Foley was my 15 minutes.♠

The time in the spotlight was even more fleeting for Kathleen’s paramour George Fleming. It ended with the trial and the 2003 Forensic Files episode.

Scene of Joe Foley's murder in Fountain, Hill, Pennsylvania — Scene of the crime in Fountain Hill, a borough of Bethlehem, Pa.

The only subsequent mention of him that turned up in the media was a 2006 Morning Call item noting that his storage facility items would be auctioned off to satisfy a lien.

Incidentally, Kathleen Foley is not the only Forensic Files killer to sacrifice everything for a love object who ended up helping the prosecution. Sarah Johnson made the same mistake.

They both should have listened to my old hair-stylist’s advice, “Don’t lose your head over a little piece of tail.”

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

Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube or Amazon Prime

Rachael Mullenix: A Thankless Child

A Teenager Overkills Her Mother
(“Runaway Love,” Forensic Files)

Note: Updated with a development from October 2022

The story of Rachael Mullenix brings to mind a couple of descriptive terms: pure evil and bad acting.

Rachael Mullenix before her mother Barbara Mullenix's murder — Rachael Mullenix

With the help of her boyfriend, 17-year-old Rachael stabbed her mother 52 times, then headed to Florida for some R&R.

That’s the evil part. The bad acting came during her police interview.

Rachael’s weepy explanation about why she’s the real victim is more excruciating than your friend’s cousin’s one-woman off-Broadway show.

Forensic Files told Rachael’s story in the 2010 episode “Runaway Love.”

For this post, I checked on what’s happened to Rachael since then and also looked for some background information on her late mother.

So let’s get started on the recap along with additional information drawn from internet research:

On September 13, 2006, a member of California’s Newport Beach Yacht Club spotted a dead body in the water.

Police could see it wasn’t the work of a shark or barracuda. A killer had left a butter knife embedded in the victim’s eye.

The body was in a degraded condition, but investigators managed to identify the victim as Barbara Mullenix from the serial number on her breast implants.

Members of the Newport Beach Yacht Club were unaccustomed to finding homicide victims in their midst

Barbara, 56, lived in an apartment in Huntington Beach, California, with her ex-husband, Bruce, and their teenage daughter, Rachael.

The couple had divorced years earlier in Oklahoma City, where Rachael Scarlett Mullenix was born in 1989, but ended up sharing the condo in California for financial reasons.

Barbara had dreams of stardom (which probably explains the implants) as an actress. She snagged work as an extra on films and TV shows, including several episodes of her favorite series, CSI.

Sources vary on whether Barbara, who was born on May 29, 1950, had been married once or twice before she met Bruce. She definitely had a son named Alex from a previous husband. Her obituary mentions a daughter named Traci.

Multiple media accounts report that Barbara was raped as a teenager. One story said that the attacker had impregnated her and she gave up the resulting baby for adoption. It’s not clear whether Traci was the daughter.

Rachael was the only child she and Bruce had together.

Ian Allen was Rachael Mullenix’s boyfriend

The mother-daughter relationship had highs and lows.

Rachael said home life was, on one hand, fun-filled “like Disneyland,” but on the other, stressful, with drinking and arguments about money between her parents, according to CBS News.

Although Barbara was understanding when Rachael got pregnant at age 15, she was none-too-supportive when, at 17, Rachael acquired a 21-year-old boyfriend named Ian Allen.

Barbara threatened to file statutory rape charges against Ian. She also showed up at Ian’s home and made a big embarrassing scene, according to Rachael. When she broke curfew, Barbara grounded her, preventing her from gallivanting around with Ian.

The lovebirds wanted to dispense with all the restrictions and run off together. After all, they’d known and loved each other for three whole months.

They decided murder was the best solution.

Days after Barbara made a commotion at Ian’s place, she turned up floating in the harbor. Bruce Mullenix had a solid alibi, so police turned their attention toward his daughter.

Rachael and Ian had disappeared after the murder, but they left enough forensic evidence to keep investigators busy.

In the Mullenix condo, they uncovered traces of cleaned-up blood splatter in a bedroom and Rachael’s DNA on a bloody sponge. They found fingerprint evidence from both Rachael and Ian.

They took note of an empty bed frame in Barbara’s room. A missing mattress is a veritable blinking sign that says Foul Play.

The kitchen contained knives that matched the one found in Barbara’s eye.

Detectives found that someone had withdrawn $300 from Barbara’s credit union account right after the murder.

They traced Rachael and Ian’s escape route from Florida to Louisiana, where authorities arrested the couple. A secret recording device in the backseat of a police car caught Rachael encouraging Ian to plead insanity.

LA Times clipping of Rachael Mullenix and her lawyer at the sentencing hearing — *Los Angeles Times* clip

The pair had left a mile-long electronic trail by texting each other dozens of incriminating messages about their plan. “After what my mom has done 2 U you can do what you want as long as U don’t get hurt or in trouble,” said one of Rachael’s texts.

But for criminal boyfriend-girlfriend duos, it can be a short trajectory from committing capital murder for the sake of love to turning against each other in legal proceedings. (Diana Haun and Sarah Johnson.)

Rachael fell first.

Once detectives got her alone in an interrogation room, she whined out an unconvincing story about how Ian killed her mother and she tried to stop him, but she was knocked unconscious and woke up bound and gagged in a hotel room with Ian.

As mentioned, it was a performance far worse than any high school production of Our Town.

And speaking of drama, prosecutor Sonia Balleste found out that Rachael had made a failed attempt at slashing her mother to death two years earlier, in 2004. Balleste suggested that the incident made Rachael realize that killing Barbara was a two-person job.

Rachael also made sure to be better-equipped her second time. Detectives determined that the couple used three different knives during Barbara’s murder.

Rachael Mullenix with boyfriend Ian Allen — Really worth murder?

Once completed, the murder didn’t seem to weigh on Rachael’s mind too much. Her jury got to see security footage of the couple acting friendly during their post-homicide victory tour in the south. She didn’t look like a kidnap victim.

At first, however, Ian backed up Rachael’s version of the story and accepted all the blame. But he did a 180 later and said it was Rachael alone who had killed her mother.

“He did the not-so-smart but chivalrous thing by saying, ‘I did it. I killed her,’ ” public defender Julia Swain told the jury, the LA Times reported on October 16, 2008.

Ian contended that Rachael committed the homicide in a fit of rage over Barbara’s years of verbal abuse and mean drunkenness — and that he only helped cover it up. Rachael couldn’t put the body into a cardboard box and throw it into the Pacific Ocean by herself.

While Ian betrayed Rachael, her dad stayed loyal. Bruce Mullenix denied that his daughter would ever kill her mother despite that his ex-wife could be abusive toward Rachael. As the Huntington Beach Independent reported:

“When she was drunk she would say things like, ‘I’m going to go up to school and go to class and embarrass you,’” [Bruce] said. “‘I’ll call up your friends and say things that humiliate and embarrass you.’ … You have to understand she was a completely different person when she was drunk.”

Nonetheless, the jury found Rachael guilty of first-degree murder.

After Rachael’s trial, a victim impact statement from one of Barbara’s friends denounced the teenager as having a “black heart” and throwing out her mom like “garbage,” the LA Times reported on October 11, 2008.

Rachael, wearing French braids for the sentencing hearing, looked like “a school girl with a broken heart,” the Orange County Register reported.

Little Rachael Mullenix and mom Barbara Mullenix — Rachael and Barbara Mullenix

When the judge gave her 25 years to life, her grandparents broke into tears and her grandmother cried out, “She’s innocent!”

Two years later, in 2010, Rachael lost an appeal claiming prosecutorial misconduct.

When I first wrote about the case, Rachael was residing in Central California Women’s Facility in Chowchilla, with parole eligibility for 2027 at age 38.

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

Ian Allen, also found guilty and given 25 years to life, is in Chuckawalla Valley State Prison in Blythe and eligible for parole in November 2024.

Rachael’s half-brother, Alex, apparently had no involvement in the legal proceedings and didn’t speak to the press, although he and Rachael weren’t strangers. They lived in the same house in Oklahoma before the divorce.

It’s sad that his mother was robbed of a chance to shake off her troubles and try for a second act in life.

You can watch the 48 Hours about the case on YouTube.

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

P.S. Rachael’s brother, Alex Hagood, reached out to Forensic Files Now and defended Rachael in a subsequent interview.

Watch the episode on YouTube or Amazon Prime

Jill Coit: Some Snow Job

Gerry Boggs Dies for a Con Woman
(“Order Up,” Forensic Files)

How do folks who have been married say, four or more times, continue to find others willing to take a chance on them?

Jill Coit, called a black widow killer, murder husband Gary Boggs. — Jill Coit in her siren days

You’d think their prospective spouses would consider their track records and decide it’s best to stick with gambling on NFL games, not seductive mystery men or flirtatious femme fatales.

Friendly revisionism. If you watch Forensic Files often enough, you probably already have a clue as to how these operators pull it off: They simply lie about how many times they’ve been married.

Two or three former husbands or wives aren’t impossible to explain away — you were too young for the first one, the second one ran off with some jerk or bimbo, and the third one died tragically.

But once the numbers really start clicking upward, con men and con women begin expunging weddings from their records. (See Dante Sutorius.)

Store owner buys story. In what must be a Forensic Files record, Jill Coit managed to jump the broom as many as 11 times. “Order Up” tells the story of husband No. 9.

Wealthy retailer Gerry Boggs fell for the striking divorcée and ended up paying with his life on October 21, 1993.

For this week, I looked into Jill Coit’s whereabouts today and also tried to find out a bit about her early life.

Member of the in-crowd. So let’s get started on the recap along with additional information drawn from internet research:

Jill Lonita Billiot was born in Louisiana on June 11, 1943 or 1944, and had what the crimemuseum.org called a normal life.

Her father owned a marine business and her mother stayed at home to raise her and a younger brother. At age 15, Jill decided to live with her grandparents in Indiana.

According to a biographical timeline compiled by Radford University’s psychology department, Jill didn’t excel academically at school, but she was popular just the same.

Quite the tart. She married for the first time at age 17 and divorced after a year, eventually embarking on a pattern of marrying well-to-do men without necessarily divorcing existing husbands first.

Somewhere along the way, the tall-ish Jill found work as a model, according to Forensic Files. A Steamboat Pilot story referred to her as a former beauty queen who once held the Miss Eskimo Pie title.

Her good looks helped her land husband No. 3 in 1966.

Probable first victim. The prosperous William Clark Coit, described as an engineer or a gas pipeline worker, married Jill and adopted her son from a previous relationship. Together, the couple had another son. (Jill reportedly ended up with a total of three children, but there’s no information available on the third one.)

Unfortunately, William Coit turned up shot to death in his home in 1972 in Houston, Texas. Jill was never charged with the crime.

Next up, she married her lawyer, Louis DiRosa. They went on to divorce, remarry each other, and split up again.

Jill at the time of her marriage to William Coit

Business-minded. Although Jill developed a skill for finding men with money, she didn’t just sit around the house eating chocolate-covered strawberries and watching The Young and Restless all day.

She had an entrepreneurial streak and at various times owned an ad agency, a noodle factory, a farm, and a bed & breakfast.

At some point, she started subtracting years from her true age and erasing weddings from her history.

Hardware man goes soft. She met Gerry Boggs circa 1990 in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, where she owned a bed and breakfast that was reportedly worth $1 million. Her son Seth managed the business.

Boggs ran a local hardware store established by his family in 1939. The business clearly sold plenty of screw anchors and drain stoppers, because media accounts describe Boggs as one of the wealthiest residents of Steamboat Springs. He was well-liked and respected in town.

Jill must have made quite an impression in order to get the lifelong bachelor to the altar. (One of her ex-husbands described her as the “greatest person” he’d ever met, at first.) It didn’t hurt that she claimed to be pregnant with Boggs’ baby. They married on April 4, 1991.

Steamboat Springs offers visitors good clean fun

No baby, no way. Gerry Boggs may have been a bit of an old fool, but he came to his senses soon enough.

He had the marriage annulled after a private detective he’d hired discovered that Jill Coit was still married to another man and had lied about her number of husbands. Also, Jill, who was around 50 years old, wasn’t really pregnant. She’d had a hysterectomy.

But Gerry had invested $100,000 in Jill’s bed & breakfast, and the two continued to fight about it after the divorce. Jill decided to end the dispute via homicide.

Brother makes discovery. She and a boyfriend, Michael Backus, started off by trying to farm out the murder job for a few thousand dollars, but those solicited refused.

On October 21, 1993, Jill disguised herself as a man by wearing bulky clothes, a cap, and a fake mustache. She and Backus, who also tried to conceal his identity, headed over to Gerry Boggs’ house.

Jill Coit’s sons, Seth and William, didn’t believe in their mother’s innocence

When Gerry, 52, didn’t show up for work at the hardware store the next day, his brother Doug decided to check on him. He found Gerry dead — beaten with a shovel, tortured with a stun gun, and shot with a pistol inside his own home. (Accounts vary as to whether the gun was .22 or .25 caliber.)

Nice try, you two. The murder shook up Steamboat Springs, a ski resort town known for its safety and community feeling.

The authorities quickly zeroed in on Jill Coit and Michael Backus. More than one local remembered seeing two odd-looking people near Boggs’ house.

Jill’s masculine disguise didn’t fool eye witnesses, who said it looked like a Halloween costume and it was obvious there was a woman inside it, the Steamboat Pilot recalled in a 2003 story.

Onion surprise. Jill claimed that she and Backus couldn’t be the killers: They were camping in the Poudre Canyon west of Fort Collins at the time of the homicide.

Boggs’ stomach contents became an important part of the investigation because they helped pinpoint the time of his death. Detectives found out he’d eaten breakfast at a local spot called The Shack Café.

The fact that the medical examiner discovered onions, despite that restaurant workers said Boggs had ordered his eggs and potatoes without onions, threw off the timeline of the crime, in favor of Jill’s alibi.

Gratuitous detective work? At that point in the episode, you could practically hear other viewers at home yelling at the TV screen, “It’s a diner — they cook stuff on a big grill and stray pieces of food end up on your plate.”

But a detective felt it necessary to go on a little field trip to The Shack to watch the short-order cook making breakfast before he came to the same conclusion.

On the other hand, maybe you can’t be too careful with evidence in a murder case, particularly because the police had very little to go on. Jill and her accomplice left no fingerprints or other forensic calling cards at the crime scene.

The finding about the onions helped prove that Boggs was murdered early in the day, before the suspects’ camping trip.

Prodigal mom. Jill Coit and Michael Backus were ordered to face homicide charges and held on $5 million bond each in February 1994.

By then, with her curly perm, Jill looked more like a soccer mom than a deadly temptress. But in pre-O.J. Simpson days, the trial of the “black widow” ensnared media attention from all over the country and some from overseas.

Jill tried to portray herself as an Elizabeth Taylor of sorts, a passionate woman whose only crime was her love of men and her fickle heart.

But the court felt more compelled by the depiction that her son Seth, who testified against her in exchange for immunity, had to offer. He said that his mother asked him to kill Boggs or at least help dispose of his body. He refused but allegedly told her, “If you do anything stupid, wear gloves,” the AP reported.

Hostile environment. In 1995, a jury convicted the couple of first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder. She received life without parole and a $1 million fine to prevent her from profiting off the crime in any way, according to the Steamboat Pilot. Backus got the same punishment.

Today, Jill resides in the Denver Women’s Correctional Facility and has virtually no chance of getting out on two feet. Her last appeal was rejected in 2006.

She also got nowhere with an earlier suit against Colorado that alleged she’d been sexually assaulted while behind razor wire.

Sadly, that might be one time when the con woman was telling the truth.

Jill Coit in a recent Colorado DOC mugshot

The prison has the highest rate of sexual assault of prisoners by corrections officers in the U.S., according to the Denver Post.

In an operation that sounds like a page from an Orange Is the New Black script, the state orchestrated a sting operation to catch a canteen supervisor who was assaulting prisoners, according to a Denver Post story from April, 12, 2018.

Today, at 74, Jill still looks like her old self and probably has retained some of her wily charm. Maybe she can use it to stay out of harm’s way while she serves her time.

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

Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube or Amazon Prime

Tim Boczkowski’s Kids: Where Are They Now?

Their Father Made Them Orphans
(Forensic Files, “All Wet”)

On November of 2018, media outlets all over the country ran an AP story reporting that Tim Boczkowski was up for parole in North Carolina.

Tim Boczkowsi and Elaine Pegher at their wedding — Tim Boczkowski’s wedding to Elaine Pegher

The prospect of the Tar Heel State releasing a man found guilty of drowning both of his wives — one in a bathtub in Greensboro in 1990 and the other in a hot tub in Pittsburgh in 1994 — made for scintillating headlines.

Sentence has teeth. But the fact is that Boczkowski, who the press has called an American Bluebeard, has almost no chance of getting out and snagging a new spouse on Match.com.

Even if the onetime owner of a dental-supply business wins parole, North Carolina will immediately turn him over to authorities in Pennsylvania, where he has a separate life sentence waiting for him.

For this week, I looked for a story with more possibilities: What happened to Boczkowski’s daughter and two sons, who were school-aged when they lost their loving biological mother and then their kind-hearted stepmother?

Second wife Maryann Boczkowski formally adopted Tim’s children

Media-friendly. At the time of the second murder, of Maryann Boczkowski in 1994, Todd was 9 years old, Sandy 10, and Randy 13.

The trio gave separate on-camera interviews on “While the Children Slept,” the American Justice episode about the case. They said they supported their father’s innocence. “Whether he’s guilty or innocent, I’m still going to love him,” said Todd.

That same year, the kids also spoke out in court during the sentencing phase of the Maryann Boczkowski homicide trial. They asked the court to spare their dad’s life, but he got a death sentence anyway. (Judge Donna Jo McDaniel later reduced it to life.)

Todd Boczkowski, Sandy Boczkowski, and Randy Boczkowski — Todd, Sandy, and Randy Boczkowski circa 1992

Musical homes. As of 2003, when Forensic Files originally aired “All Wet,” about the deaths of Elaine Pegher Boczkowski and Maryann Fullerton Boczkowski, the kids were saying they still loved their father and believed that both of their moms died accidentally.

So, what has happened to them since Tim Boczkowski traded his Dockers for prison scrubs?

Although they were shuffled around a lot, the Boczkowskis managed to stay together. They first lived with their aunt and then their grandparents, but for whatever reason, they couldn’t care for them permanently.

Odyssey concludes. The kids landed in a happy foster home, but it was overcrowded and its location made it impossible for all of them to continue school in the North Hills District of Allegheny County, Pennsylvania.

In 1996, the AP reported that the Boczkowski kids were searching for a new foster home where they could stay together and in the same school district.

Here’s the best part of the story: 100 people applied to adopt them.

Brothers Randy and Todd Boczkowski circa 2003 — Randy and Todd Boczkowski circa 2003

Faithful offspring. County authorities narrowed down the list to 20. The kids, who were ages 12 to 15 by then, decided on a couple whose own children who had grown up and moved out, according to an AP story from January 17, 1997.

But they hadn’t forgotten about their original dad. According to another AP account: “They write him and are allowed one phone call a year. They’ve mailed him photos and sent him tins of cookies for Christmas.”

In the meantime, the new foster family must have done a good job.

Impressive résumés. The kids participated in sports in school, finished college, and went on to have LinkedIn profiles brimming with keywords like “sales funnels,” “competitive compensation structure,” and “social interaction through a behavioral system.”

(Not exactly sure what all those terms mean, but they sound like the stuff hiring managers like to see.)

Sandy Boczkowski in 2003 — Sandy Boczkowski 2003

Randy, the eldest child, grew up to work with at-risk young men at George Junior Republic and later joined a Philadelphia-area crowd-management company as an intern and rose to branch manager.

Baby a hero. His sister, Sandy, graduated from North Carolina State and has had a decade-long career as an employment recruiter and expert on talent development for private industry.

And the youngest Boczkowski, Todd, trained with the Civil Air Patrol when he was 16. He joined the U.S. Air Force and became a military police officer. In 2006, a Virginia Daily Press story mentioned Todd after he came to the aid of a child at the scene of a shooting in Hampton.

After his military service, Todd worked in online marketing for several years before he and a business partner established their own digital consulting firm in Pittsburgh.

No hell-raiser. Meanwhile, their father, Tim Boczkowski, lives in medium security at the Nash Correctional Institution. His last legal action of note came in 2007, when his bid for a new trial for Maryann Boczkowski’s death was rejected.

Boczkowski’s prison record reflects good behavior — no infractions or escape attempts.

There aren’t any recent media accounts about the kids’ relationship with their father, but I suspect they still believe in his innocence, especially considering that Sandy Boczkowski has chosen to live in Raleigh — just 47 miles from where her dad occupies a cell in Nashville, North Carolina.

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

Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube or Amazon Prime

Update on Lawrence Murrell and Justin Glover

A Scam Begets a Murder
(“Dollars and Sense,” Forensic Files)

When people kill for a small amount of cash, it’s only natural to think: Couldn’t they just make money via fraud instead so no one gets hurt physically?

In what sounds like a Sopranos subplot, a trio of young pals in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania, started out to do just that.

Fraudster friends. Wesley Person, Justin Glover Jr., and Lawrence Murrell Jr. would persuade a fourth party to apply for an auto loan, divide up the money, and never buy the car.

The Pennsylvania State Employees Credit Union couldn’t recoup the funds by seizing the vehicle because there was no vehicle. The conspirators carried out more than a dozen of these scams, defrauding lenders out of a total of $115,000 to $120,000.

Unfortunately, the men’s shenanigans took a horrible turn, which Forensic Files recounted in “Dollars and Sense.”

Shifty move. In 2005, Wesley Person’s partners in crime discovered that he’d quietly completed a scam worth $15,000 to $20,000 and neglected to share the proceeds.

Person, age 26, barely had a chance to enjoy the new shoes he bought himself at the Sneaker Villa in Harrisburg: Murrell and Glover killed him on the day before Christmas.

They defeated the purpose of their business model. Instead of easy money, the two men received life sentences.

Horrible sight. For this week, I looked for epilogues on Murrell and Glover. They were in their early 20s at the time of the murder, so I was curious to find out whether they got any breaks.

The Harrisburg neighborhood where police believe Wesley Person's murder took place in 2005 — The Harrisburg neighborhood where the murder took place

But first here’s a quick recap of the episode along with information drawn from internet research:

On Christmas Eve of December 2005, motorists spotted flames alongside Route 83 near Baltimore, Maryland. They came from a body that had been set on fire.

That’s my BF. Although the corpse had been badly burned, the skull along with a patch of the victim’s braided hair gave a reconstructionist just enough to work with.

A woman named Keisha Walker recognized the police artist’s drawing as her boyfriend, Wesley Person. (Note: He appears to be no relation to either of the NBA players of the same name).

Person was born on August 31, 1979, and attended Brooklyn’s Boys and Girls High School, whose alumni included science fiction author Isaac Asimov and Shirley Chisolm, the first black woman elected to Congress.

Justin Glover Jr. murderer of Wesley Person — Justin Glover Jr.

Hardest-working scammer. Although Person wasn’t exactly chasing greatness, he didn’t make a whole lot of trouble either. He moved to Pennsylvania and started keeping company with Lawrence Murrell Jr., 21, and Justin Glover Jr., 24.

If anything, Murrell sounded like he should have been a good influence. He was married, worked full time as a janitor for the Harrisburg school district, and was taking college courses. In his spare time, he bought and renovated houses.

Murrell and Glover, the third member of the trio, “were partners in several rental properties in Harrisburg,” according to a Pennlive.com article, which also notes that Glover was a father.

That’ll be cash. But for whatever reason, honest entrepreneurship wasn’t enough, and Murrell, Glover, and Person started the auto loan scams.

The last day anyone saw Person alive was shortly before Christmas. He had gone shopping with a big wad of 50s and 100s.

His buddies Abdul McCauley and Stephen Aikens witnessed him having a heated discussion with Murrell and Glover in the parking lot afterward.

Police theorized that Murrell and Glover took Person to the basement of one of the properties Murrell owned and shot him three times in the head.

Lawrence Murrell Jr. murderer of Wesley Person — Lawrence Murrell Jr.

Detritus divulges. At the site where the duo left Person’s burning body, investigators found some plaster and other detritus that matched the debris in Murrell’s house at 441 South 13th Street in Harrisburg.

On February 19, 2008, Murrell and Glover were found guilty of first-degree murder, criminal conspiracy, and abuse of a corpse.

Glover got a life sentence for the homicide and 11 to 22 years for other charges. Murrell received life without the possibility of parole plus additional time.

They are both still fighting to get out.

Legal maneuvers. In 2014, a superior court upheld Glover’s conviction. He then filed a petition for writ of habeas corpus based on contentions including ineffective counsel for failing to object to the use of “unverified cell phone records,” failure to impeach Abdul McCauley, and the possibility that Keisha Walker “had motive to commit the crime.”

Justin Glover Jr. in a recent mugshot — Justin Glover Jr. in a 2018 mugshot

Glover contends that Aiken should have testified for the defense that he heard Keisha Walker — Person’s girlfriend — say that Person “got what he deserved” because of some bad blood between the two lovebirds.

License to work. Glover also contended that his own girlfriend Christina Hughes should have been allowed to testify that they were watching a movie together during the time of the murder.

In August 2017, U.S. District Judge Richard Conaboy denied Glover’s petition.

For now, Glover resides along with 2,183 inmates in the maximum-security Fayette State Correctional Institution in Labelle, Pennsylvania. It’s the only prison in the state where license plates are made.

At 6-feet-5-inches, Glover probably doesn’t have to worry about being bullied out of his commissary items.

Chance of freedom. Murrell, who is serving his sentence in the medium-security Dauphin County Prison, has had better post-conviction luck.

Although the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania denied his 2010 petition for allowance of appeal, he won the right to an evidentiary hearing in 2018.

Murrell’s court papers contend that he had ineffective counsel who failed to call character witnesses and that the plaster found on Wesley Person’s body could have come from a different property. Murrrell also alleges that Abdul McCauley’s testimony for the prosecution was tainted because Dauphin County had given him favorable treatment for an unrelated drug offense.

Rehab your life and house. No word on how the evidentiary hearing turned out or whether it has even been scheduled yet. As of this writing, Murrell remains behind razor wire.

Murrell and Glover are still young — 34 and 37 — and have plenty of time to explore legal avenues to freedom.

They also have skills that would enable them to start legitimate real estate careers, although the two should probably forget about their partnership and go their separate ways if they get out of prison on two feet.

Incidentally, the 5-bedroom 1-bath row house where Wesley Person met his end is up for sale for $69,100.

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

Watch the episode on YouTube and Tubi

What Happened to Dr. John Schneeberger?

Epilogue for a Canadian Rapist and His Victim
(“Bad Blood,” Forensic Files)

Listen to this post as a podcast

When Dr. John Schneeberger drugged and raped a patient in his exam room, he probably figured that she a) wouldn’t know what happened or b) wouldn’t be believed even if she did.

Schneeberger was a family physician beloved by residents of Kipling, a farming town of 1,100 people in Saskatchewan. Many of them had been treated by the 30ish blond doctor at one time or another and found him kind and caring.

King of the North. The Forensic Files episode “Bad Blood” told the story of his 23-year-old victim, usually identified only as Candy or Candice in the media.

She was a single mother with a high school diploma, a job at a gas station, and a reputation as a partyer.

On the local totem pole, Candy was basically the part buried in the ground.

Who was she to disparage an asset to the community like Dr. Schneeberger? The charming medical professional helped raise funds so the town could install a public swimming pool. He was happily married with four kids — two of them step-children he took in from his wife’s previous marriage.

What a great guy. In fact, he was so agreeable that he willingly took multiple DNA tests after Candy reported the Halloween-night sexual assault to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in 1992.

Defamation of character. Just as Schneeberger’s admiring public expected, his DNA didn’t match the semen from the alleged rape.

The test results seemed to confirm townspeople’s suspicions that Candy was lying, that she had a crush on Schneeberger and was retaliating because he rejected her, according to Autopsy, an HBO docuseries that produced a segment about the case.

Some residents suspected Candy was hoping to profit from a nuisance suit, according to Forensic Files.

‘Nothing to see here.’ The doctor maintained that he gave Candy the injection of Versed to calm her nerves and that the drug sometimes caused hallucinations of sexual activity as a side effect.

The police halted the investigation in 1994.

What Mrs. Schneeberger and the rest of her husband’s fan club didn’t know was that the doctor had foiled the DNA tests by implanting in his arm a tube containing another man’s blood.

Self-funding. Meanwhile, Candy persisted. Although the Versed had incapacitated her and made her memory hazy that evening on Dr. Schneeberger’s exam table, she felt sure he had raped her.

It took seven years, but her efforts finally landed Schneeberger behind razor wire.

A private detective she hired got hold of Schneeberger’s ChapStick. Candy paid for a DNA test at a private lab and got a match.

John Schneeberger, here with wife Lisa, had a squeaky-clean image hard to assail

Tables turn. But Schneeberger pulled his fake-blood routine once more during the hospital’s lab test and evaded justice again.

Then, in 1997, there was a colossal break in the case: Lisa Schneeberger switched sides.

She found out her husband had been drugging and sexually assaulting her 13-year-old daughter.

The court ordered more DNA tests, which this time included a sample of Schneeberger’s hair and blood drawn from his finger.

They matched the semen from Candy’s attack.

Nice try, Doc. Schneeberger went on trial in November 1999 in Saskatchewan for raping both Candy and his step-daughter.

He admitted to the blood switcheroo; it came from one of his patients. But, he said, it was a matter of self-defense. Candy had broken into his house, he contended, and stolen a used condom so she could frame him.

The jury didn’t buy it and convicted him of enough crimes to put him away forever.

But he got a sentence of only six years.

After the show. The Forensic Files episode, first aired in 2001, ends with Candy’s jubilation when she learned the doctor had been denied parole.

So, what happened to Dr. John Schneeberger after Forensic Files’ closing guitar chords?

Well, it’s a mixture of justice and injustice.

Paperwork problem. After four years in the minimum security annex of Ferndale Institution (now known as Mission Minimum Institution) in British Columbia, Schneeberger won parole.

The ex-convict — who was also sometimes known by his given first name, Steven — promptly moved to Regina, the same town where Candy lived. He’d been stripped of his medical license, so he got work on a demolition crew and also did carpentry.

Fortunately, Candy didn’t have to worry about bumping into Schneeberger at the supermarket for long.

Candy in an appearance on Canada’s ’72 Hours’

Records showed that Schneeberger — who originally came from Zambia and later lived in South Africa — had neglected to disclose on his Canadian citizenship application in 1993 that he was being investigated for rape, according to the Calgary Herald.

They still love him? Canada moved to deport him to South Africa — but not before his victims had to witness the residual goodwill Schneeberger had built up in the Great White North.

His friends began a letter-writing campaign urging the immigration minister to reverse the deportation order so Schneeberger would have a chance to say goodbye to his biological daughters.

Schneeberger’s camp won.

His wife, who was identified as Lisa Dillman after her divorce, was ordered to allow the girls, ages 5 and 6, to see him.

Ex-wife’s dilemma. She had paid $2,000 for contempt of court for previously refusing to take them to see their father in jail, but she ultimately obeyed the visitation order, according to a Globe and Mail story. As writer Margaret Wente quoted the former Mrs. Schneeberger:

“At least I can say to my girls when they’re older: ‘I tried.’ They will know that Mummy at least tried to keep us away from him…. I still blame myself. Maybe if I had believed [Candy], none of this would have happened to my daughter.”

The story also reported that Schneeberger’s pals threw him a going-away party.

He had a garage sale to get rid of his things prior to deportation.

Unwelcome. If this is sounding more like a kid going away to college than a sex criminal being chased out of North America, don’t worry — he faced adversity when he finally landed back in Africa in July of 2004.

The man once affectionately known as “Dr. John” in Canada became “Dr. Rape” in South Africa.

Candy wearing a pink turtleneck and holding her dog in an older shot — One more reason to like Candy (recently and in an older shot): She’s a dog lover

He tried to join the Health Professions Council of South Africa so that he could work in some field of medicine again, but he soon withdrew his application.

His brother, William “Bill” Schneeberger, a cardiothoracic surgeon, tried to help him get back on his feet professionally.

He maintained the charges against his brother were false. “I don’t believe my brother is a saint,” Bill Schneeberger said in a statement to the Calgary Herald, “but I know he is not a fool and rape in a consulting room when you have asked two nurses to join you is ridiculous.”

Bill Schneeberger’s efforts on his brother’s behalf appear to have gone nowhere. Bill himself returned to the U.S. and works with the humanitarian organization Emergency NGO in Ohio, according to his LinkedIn profile.

My old room available? John Schneeberger went to live with his mother, Ina, in Durban, South Africa, and reportedly took up work in the catering industry; he had picked up some skills on kitchen duty in prison. He pretty much dropped off the radar screen after that.

As for Candy, she filed civil suits against the doctor and the Kipling hospital where he treated her. No word on how she fared with the legal actions, but she got to see herself played by supermodel Estella Warren in I Accuse, a movie version of her story made for Canadian TV.

Candy herself appeared on the Canadian news magazine show 72 Hours, which produced an episode about the case called “Good Doctor.”

As of this writing in 2018, she’s known as Candice Fonagy and works as a continuing care assistant for an addiction-services facility in Saskatchewan. Professionals with her job title are known as “the eyes and ears of the frail and vulnerable” — a good fit for someone who has survived a saga like Candy’s.

By the way, Forensic Files executive producer Paul Dowling has said he is a fan of hers and that “Bad Blood” is his favorite of all 400 episodes of the series he created.

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

Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube or Amazon Prime.

See the Autopsy episode “Dead Men Talking” (the segment about Candy comes on at 18:50 minutes).

Listen to this post as a podcast

Sherri Dally’s Murder

An Affair Starts in Vons and Ends in Homicide
(“Sign Here,” Forensic Files)

This week’s recap takes a look at two awful people who killed one nice person.

“Sign Here” tells the story of Sherri Dally’s murder at the hands of her husband and the woman he was having an affair with.

Famous trial. In addition to sharing the standard forbidden-fruit attraction, Diana Haun and Michael Dally had a common interest in macabre things, like wounding people with knives.

Yikes.

Because gory details aren’t my favorite part of murder narratives, for this post I’ll concentrate on the courtroom drama. (One account from the time of the trials said that anyone who wasn’t following the story must live under a rock, but I don’t think it got much coverage beyond the West Coast.)

I also checked into the murderers’ whereabouts today.

But first here’s a recap of the Forensic Files episode along with additional information drawn from internet research:

Diana Haun, 36, was a former model who enjoyed using makeup, wigs, and costumes to change her appearance drastically.

Backgrounds in common. For whatever reason, she ended up as a deli clerk at Vons supermarket in Oxnard, California, near her hometown of Port Hueneme.

Michael, also 36, worked as a manager at the same store. Coincidentally, Diana and Michael both had mothers originally from Japan and fathers who were U.S. servicemen.

The two probably had a lot of stories to share and, somewhere amid dispensing quarter pounds of thick-sliced provolone and spreading cream cheese on everything bagels, they worked up a passion for each other.

They carried on a conspicuous affair despite that Michael was married with two small sons, Devon, 8, and Max, 6.

He and his wife, born Sherri Renee Guess, 35, had met in high school.

Sherri’s mother, Karlyne Guess, who appeared on both Forensic Files and a Fatal Vows episode about the case, described Sherri as a typical California girl active in 4-H, Brownies, and Pioneer Girls.

Mr. Popular. School friends remembered Michael — whose nickname was Hawaiian Mike although he didn’t come from Hawaii — as charming. He had thick black hair and a smooth, tan complexion.

Sherri was crazy about the guy.

He won over her family, too. The two married in 1982.

But by the 1990s, the bloom was off the rose for Michael. “The marriage was marked by her fidelity and Michael Dally’s infidelity,” the Los Angeles Times reported.

In addition to having affairs, Michael patronized prostitutes and used cocaine.

Thankless spouse. It’s painful to read about the kind, generous things Sherri did in hopes of saving her marriage to this loser — like the time she washed and waxed Michael’s car while he was at Diana Haun’s house.

Sherri Guess and Michael Dally on their wedding day — Sherri and Michael Dally married in 1982. The photo gray lenses were the least of his crimes

Although news outlets often described Sherri as a homemaker, she also operated a day care business with her friend Debbie English.

Despite Sherri’s virtue and devotion, by 1996, Michael wanted out of the marriage.

Cruel blueprint. He and Diana came up with a plan. She would disguise herself as a law officer and fool Sherri into thinking she was under arrest so she’d allow Diana to handcuff her and put her in a rental vehicle.

It worked.

The kidnapping happened in a Target parking lot in Ventura on May 6, 1996.

After the abduction, Diana beat and stabbed Sherri to death, possibly even decapitating her. Then, Michael reported his wife missing and presented himself as a distraught husband to the media.

That worked, too, for a while.

But then he began doing things like trying to get rid of Sherri’s possessions while she was still missing.

Disguise-shopping. And while Michael was supposed to be anxiously awaiting word about Sherri, police found him holed up in Diana’s apartment. He was shirtless and she had lingerie on.

Investigators turned their attention toward the two, and evidence began streaming in.

Witnesses remembered that Diana bought a blond wig, fake police badge, and handcuffs prior to the murder, and she was seen near the ravine where searchers discovered Sherri’s remains on June 1, 1996.

Diana Haun on trial for Sherri Dally's murder — Diana Haun in court

Sherri’s blood was found in the teal vehicle Diana rented. A local dry cleaner told investigators about receiving an anonymous phone call around the time of the murder from someone asking how to remove blood from a car seat.

“It’s all him.” And colleagues from Vons had plenty of stories to dish up about the adulterer and his girlfriend.

Diana Haun’s trial took place first.

Lawyers for the skinny, startled-looking defendant, who faced capital punishment, said that Michael took advantage of her love and tricked her into killing Sherri.

Witness after witness. But the forensic evidence pretty much added up to a flashing arrow of guilt pointing at Diana.

About 30 Ventura law officers had worked on the investigation, and 125 witnesses testified.

In addition to the evidence in the car, the police found Diana in possession of a pen with green ink, the same color she used to sign the car rental contract.

The jury also learned that, while Diana was a genius of disguise, she was a dim bulb as a hitwoman.

Diana Haun allegedly wanted to raise Max and Devon Dally herself. Sherri Dally stood in her way

She used a check to pay for her wig and other do-it-yourself murder items. And she wrote it in green ink.

On September 26, 1997, a jury found Diana Haun guilty of conspiracy, kidnapping, and murder.

LA Times writer Mack Reed described the jubilation after the verdict:

“The detectives laughed and hugged and laughed some more. The victim’s mother cried, then smiled. [Diana Haun’s] family sat still in the courtroom, ashen-faced.”

Spectators watching a feed of the decision outside the courthouse broke into cheers, the LA Times reported.

Diana Haun got life without parole.

Ms. Moneybags. Tried separately, Michael faced the death penalty, even though no forensic evidence tied him directly to the crime scene. Prosecutors brought him up on special charges of lying in wait and committing the crime for financial gain.

Sherry Dally's mother Karlyne Guess — LA Times clipping shows Karlyne Guess (center) leaving the courtroom

Michael’s defense lawyer Robert Schwartz denied that Michael wanted to avoid a costly divorce and benefit from Sherri’s $50,000 life insurance policy. He already had a wealthy girlfriend, Schwartz contended.

Diana Haun had an annuity worth $1 million thanks to a settlement over an injury sustained in high school. A basketball backboard fell onto her head and put her in a coma for three months. She was receiving $1,077 a month and it was to continue until she turned 65.

“It was all her.” Schwartz blamed Haun for the killing. “This plan was designed, conceived, and carried out by this psycho, crazed whacked-out witch, Diana Haun,” he said.

(She definitely had an interest in witchcraft, but it’s worrisome to see it used as evidence of blood lust — witchcraft is part of the recognized religion of Wicca, which forbids harming others.)

The defense contended that Sherri and Michael Dally were in the process of reconciling and Haun went rogue to stop it.

But witnesses said Michael had spoken of wanting to get out of the marriage.

Father interferes. Debbie English testified that Michael inadvertently made a remark indicating he had prior knowledge of where the body was buried.

She also told the court that Michael’s father, Lawrence Dally, had tried to discourage her from talking to investigators about Michael.

Teenaged Sherri Dally — Sherri Dally as a teenager

Sallie Lowe, one of Michael’s ex-girlfriends, had even more damning information to share. She said Michael had choked her on two occasions and tried to coerce her into giving him money.

“He just wanted [Sherri] to disappear,” Lowe told the court. “There were times he talked about stabbing her with a knife, but not only stabbing her — twisting the knife to cause pain.”

Tainted jury? Lawrence Dally’s testimony that Michael was actually with him when prosecutors contended he was planning the crime with Diana Haun didn’t make much of a dent in the prosecution’s case.

Michael’s trial ended with a murder conviction in April 1998.

The defense pressed for a different jury to determine Michael’s sentence — his trial verdict elicited a lot of cheering from spectators, just as Diana’s had, and there was concern it tainted the jury.

But the same jury was used during the penalty phase two months later.

Sherri’s mother, Karlyne Guess, read a statement in court about how the graphic visions of the murder haunted her.

Throw away the key. There was talk in the defense camp of putting the Dallys’ older son on the stand to dissuade the judge from giving the death penalty. To their credit, they decided against it.

A judge gave Michael Dally life without parole and ordered him to pay the Guess family $15,000.

As far as post-sentencing activity, Diana made some effort early on.

Not loving prison. In October of 2000, she appealed on the grounds that the court had been allowed to hear prejudicial evidence, like that fact that she had a prior affair with another married man and practiced witchcraft.

That train went to Nowhereville, and Haun is still serving her time in Central California Women’s Facility in Chowchilla.

Michael made news as recently as September 2018, when he requested clemency from the state of California. The governor reportedly assigned an investigator to look into the matter, according to the VC Star.

In the meantime, his status is LWOP at California State Prison in Lancaster.

Defense debts. As for Sherri Dally’s sons, Max and Devon, they lived with their paternal grandparents after the murder.

Devon Dally, son of Michael Dally and murder victim Sherri Dally — Devon Dally

In March of 1998, Superior Court Judge Barbara A. Lane awarded the kids $6.4 million in a judgment against Diana Haun, although it’s unclear whether they saw any of the money. Diana already owed $202,000 to her defense attorneys, according to the LA Times.

As an adult, Devon Dally appeared briefly on the ID Network’s The Murder of Sherri Dally, and said that he believes his father is innocent. Devon also said that Sherri was a great mother and he remembers life with his parents as happy.

Max Dally hasn’t done any media that could be located online. He appears to have a career in the security industry.

You can watch an an episode of the New Detectives that includes a segment on the Sherri Dally case for free on YouTube, but it costs $1.99 to view Fatal Vows: A Lonely Place. (Neither show is as good as Forensic Files, but is anything?)

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

Watch the Forensic Files episode on YouTube or Amazon Prime.

Category: Forensic Files

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