Scene Of the Crime

The cast of characters read like an old version of Clue and the mystery of Who Done It? was just as intriguing.Not just one, but six people murdered in a waterfront cottage on the tip of Erland’s Point in the spring of 1934.  The wealthy community was just about six miles outside Bremerton, but it was a world apart.While the port town of Bremerton was always busy and bustling with ships and cargo constantly churning in and out of the harbor and people coming and going all hours of the day and night.The hamlet of Erland’s Point was a haven from the noise, An easy getaway where the well-to-do could just do nothing. A place where the well-heeled could kick off their shoes and not worry about who might be watching.It was both close to home and out of the way.  The perfect place for murder.The Scene of the Crime was laid out like a game board.The bodies were strewn all around the cottage: at a card table in the game room, by the fireplace in the entryway, in repose in a bedroom. Violence had erupted in nearly every room in the house.And the victims seemed just as random.A wealthy grocer and the older woman he married.A vaudeville actress and her prize-fighter husband.A retired Navy machinist and a Bremerton bartender.As for the murder weapon, was it the revolver?  Or the hammer?  Or the rope found at the scene?And who was behind this massacre?It was more than the local police could handle. More than even the county sheriff could take on. So, they called in the man who would come to be known as America’s Sherlock Holmes.And that’s just the tip of the iceberg in this case of life imitating art, history repeating itself, and a bizarre love triangle driving it all.In the end, one killer would walk and one would get the noose.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/scene-of-the-crime699/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

The roar of the crowd was like music to Randall Woodfield’s ears. Those Friday Night Lights fueled his ego as he caught the football mid air. And then, his magnus opus. He pumped his legs toward the promise land: Portland State University’s end zone.It was the moment he lived for, when all eyes were on Randy.Touchdown!The year was 1974 and it wasn’t long before NFL talent scouts would come to watch Randy on the field.The scout would gush that Randy was quite a jumper and he could cut on a dime.Randy’s coach agreed, but would point out what he considered a glaring deficiency: Randy avoided getting hit. He didn’t like to feel pain.There was something else about Randy that the scout wasn’t aware of. Later, a detective in Wisconsin would say, “Randy, just couldn’t keep it in his pants.”He was referring to Randy's multiple arrests for indecent exposure. The incidents would ultimately lead to Woodfield’s being cut from the Green Bay Packers, without even playing a single game.Looking back, that rejection could have been the tipping point where Randy’s obsession with exposing himself to women took an evil turn.

Like a lucky horseshoe, The Dalles runs along a bend on the south side of the Columbia River.  In the 80’s the sleepy little town had just a few thousand people, but was still the largest community in rural Wasco County.  Fishing and farming were popular activities in this beautiful part of north central Oregon.  And, once night fell, there was little more than a movie theater and a Shakey’s Pizza to keep folks entertained.One Sunday night in 1984, the owner of that pizza place was getting ready to call it a day when he suddenly doubled over in pain.  Wracked with stomach cramps, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea,  Dave Lutgens would later recall it was the worst he’d ever felt in his life.  His wife soon became ill as well, and the couple decided it was time to go to the hospital. What they saw there was shocking. The waiting room was full of people similarly doubled over in pain. They were lining the hallways, and there were patients in every exam room.  Nurses, doctors and other hospital staff were rushing around trying to make more space as the ill continued streaming through the doors.Within the next week, nearly half of the Shakey’s 28 employees and dozens of their customers all came down with the same kinds of complaints.Dave began to worry. How did it happen? Could it have been something in the salad bar that was so popular with the Shakey’s crowd?  Or maybe an employee who wasn’t diligent about their hygiene?The local health department started asking questions as well, as the number of ill continued to climb… 100 cases… then 200. And they discovered that some of the patients hadn’t eaten at Shakey’s, but at a different restaurant in town.A pathologist identified the problem as Salmonella, a common bacteria that can contaminate food. But, there was nothing common about how this outbreak was spreading.  In the end more than 700 people would fall ill in less than one month.And, it wasn’t just one or two restaurants involved, but nearly a dozen all across The Dalles and the surrounding area.  Most of those who fell ill reported eating at salad bars.The county ordered all salad bars shut down and they called in the C.D.C.Health investigators spoke with patients and their families, inspected restaurants and suppliers, tested the water supply and soil samples.Salmonella was found in coffee creamer at one restaurant and in the blue cheese salad dressing in another.  But, the question remained: How did it get there?The C.D.C. decided it was a case of poor hygiene. Someone who didn’t wash their hands after using the bathroom must’ve touched the items on the salad bar.  It seemed far fetched, given how many restaurants were involved, but they simply couldn’t see any other possible explanation.But, nearby in the tiny town of Antelope, they had a different theory.  They pointed to a mysterious religious leader from India and his thousands of followers who had built a massive commune that they claimed promoted a kind of spiritual rebirth.It was hard to fathom that this mild-mannered messiah could have been behind such a violent attack.  But, in the end, even the great Bhagwan himself pointed the finger at a member of his flock, his second in command and personal secretary Ma Anand Sheela.But was Sheela behind the poisonings or was it done on the Bhagwan’s orders?  Why would this group of free-loving farmers, practitioners of meditation, pursuers of spiritual awakening target their small-town neighbors in what had become the largest bioterrism attack in the na...

Out in the field the big, heavy duty machinery revs up. A lone farmer sits inside the cockpit of this gigantic tractor. A puff of smoke trails out of the little exhaust pipe as the earth begins to churn beneath the steel blades. Nothing but time and the big blue sky as the tractor makes its way slowly across thousands of acres on the Arkansas farm.  In the distance there’s one of those open air canopies made of steel that housed tools of the farmer’s trade. Not just one tractor, but two, and there was a combine too. So much heavy duty, expensive equipment all lined up like a little boys toys. You might be thinking that the farmer had been working the land with his family for generations, long enough to scrape together the kind of seed money required to purchase these top shelf items.But, this isn’t that kind of story.  All of that equipment, even some of the land, was paid for by a gold digger by the name of Shae Sanger who had never worked an honest day in her life.  Shea is the sister of this farmer and if there’s anything that runs through the generations of this family it isn’t working the land, but working people. All that expensive farm equipment was paid for by a lonely man named Norman Butler. Norman lived all the way across the country in Washington State. A 75 year old retired optometrist with no interest in farming, he’d been looking for love in all the wrong places.By the way, Shea Sanger is just one of the names this grifter has cultivated over the years in her quest to prey upon vulnerable men.At the root of this middle aged gold digger’s black heart was the insatiable need for her family’s approval.Will this woman get what’s coming to her?   

Movie theaters and bowling alleys were closed  Restaurants were offering takeout only. And nightlife was non-existent. The summer of 2020 has been cemented in our minds as a time of pandemic, fear, loneliness and never ending boredom.It's not surprising that it's also the time that a new app promising unexpected adventures right in your own neighborhood became wildly popular, especially with the younger crowd.One group of teens decided to explore Alkai beach, a typical Pacific coast town on the west side of Seattle. Small shops and mom and pop restaurants line the sidewalk that sits opposite a sandy beach along the Pacific ocean. It was a sunny day in June when the teens headed out looking for a random GPS coordinate not knowing what they might find. And, of course, they brought their cell phones with them to record their adventure. When they spotted a suitcase that had gotten stuck on a large pile of rocks, they wondered what was inside. As they got closer. the stench of the contents nearly made them turn around. But their curiosity got the better of them. They just had to open it to see what was inside. When they decided to call police, the cops thought it was a prank. They would soon learn, this was anything but a laughing matter. The remains of a young couple, dismembered and tossed away like trash. But who were they? And who was the monster who could have done such a thing?

Did you know the origins of the Trump family fortune have links to a Ghost Town in Washington? Kim shares the details in this Deepish Thoughts.Kim and her family on their hike to Monte Cristo.

John HoffmanHadberg Shack on Indian CreekJohn KlingenbergBilly GohlImagine a sailor. The year is 1907. He’s just finished up swabbing the deck. You can see him there, resting up against his mop. He takes a whiff of that salty air. Seagulls fly overhead.This sailor’s been out to sea for months. What beauty to behold as Grays Harbor and Aberdeen, Washington come into view.As the sailor came into port, on one said of the Chehalis River he saw four canneries resting on the banks. On the other side was a spattering of lumber mills processing the old growth timber giants: cedar, spruce, and fir.And the sailor noticed something else as he landed in what was then the largest ship building port in the world. The town was teaming with people.Thousands of sailors like him, far flung men from all over the world, and loggers. His eyes could barely grasp the number of what looked to be mountain men still wearing their specialty boots that chewed through the wooden sidewalks after months in the wilderness.With pay in their pockets they quenched their desires. They were available in abundance at the many saloons, gambling halls and brothels. Anything was available for a price.But this sailor’s first stop was the Sailor’s Union and man named Billy Gohl.Billy was short and stocky with a shaved head, a barrel chest and wide smile. He was known as a sailor’s sailor, which meant he had done the hard, often thankless work that was a sailor’s life and he had the tattoos to prove it.A sailor arriving at the Sailor’s Union expected to get paid, and Billy was only too glad to oblige, counting out the bills for their months of toiling with an easy smile and charming bravado. That day as the sailor scooped up the cash, he thought he was in the company of a friend, not knowing the monster behind the mask…

Karen Bodine never did stray far from home.Even after she was grown and had three children of her own, she wasn’t in a hurry to leave the community near Tumwater where she grew up, where she had lived with her parents and big brother, Greg. It was a tight-knit family that Karen and her kids could always count on.In the fall of 2006, Karen’s oldest was starting her senior year in high school and  her youngest was starting middle school.  She’d broken up with their father, who turned out to be more interested in partying than parenting, and had taken her little family back home, to live with her parents.  They were short on money, but never short on love.  Karen would take every opportunity to make her kids feel special, leaving little notes in their backpacks and filling their home with her laughter.Then, Karen met a new beau. She started staying at his apartment nearby. Her children stayed with their grandparents, but their bond with their mother remained strong.On one Friday in January, her daughter Karlee stopped by after school, as she often did. They chatted and shared a few laughs, before Karlee got up to leave.  Karen didn’t want her to go. She never did.  "Just five more minutes," she begged.  "Just five more minutes."  But, Karlee had places to go and so much on her teenage mind.  She’d see her mother again soon.  Karen wasn’t going anywhere. At least, that was the plan.That night, Karen and her boyfriend had a fight.  Not just an argument, but a knock-down-drag-out battle that ended with police at their front door and Karen moving out.  But, she didn’t go back home.  Maybe it was embarrassment over another failed relationship. Or maybe she just preferred the comfort of her friends.Karen spent the weekend looking for a place to land. By Sunday, she was out of options and found herself calling home, looking for help, trying to reach her parents or Karlee, her oldest.  But, the phones just kept ringing….That’s how Karen found herself wandering down a residential street in Lacey. It was cold and she didn’t have a warm coat. A neighbor noticed Karen and was worried about her, so they called police. An officer stopped to see how she was doing. Karen waived them off. She was fine, she said, just thinking… trying to clear her head.But the officer wouldn’t let it go. He couldn’t leave this young woman out in the cold as day was turning to night.  He convinced her to go to a women’s shelter where she could warm her bones until she decided what to do next.At least, that’s what could have happened. What might have happened. If only Karen had not been so persistent. If only the officer had not given up.Instead, Karen wandered into the night, never to be seen alive again.It was just hours later, early on Monday morning, when Karen’s body would be found naked and posed along a country road nearly 30 miles from her home town.What’s worse, news reports declared the body of a transient and suspected drug addict had been dumped and Karen’s murder quickly fell off the radar. It felt like nobody cared. Like nobody saw Karen for who she really was.But with a new investigator on the case and a new effort to rekindle public interest, could they finally answer that burning question: Who killed Karen Bodine?There is a $50,000 reward being offered by the family of Karen Bodine and ...

Private Samuel SnowOn American Soil: How Justice Became a Casualty of World War II

It was the summer of love… 1967.Seattle was simultaneously the center of the known universe and on the very edge of something spectacular.Seattle’s own Jimi Hendrix had just released his second album, Are You Experienced?The city had its first "Be In," a protest to mourn the loss of a coffee shop and bookstore beloved by the peace, love and happiness crowd.And, the nightly carnival at Seattle Center still held the shimmer of excitement that first arose during the building of the Space Needle for the World’s Fair.It was an excitement that would’ve been intoxicating for a young woman from Spokane who’d just moved to the big city.Someone like Susan Galvin. At 20 years old, she’d left her family home in Spokane just a few months earlier, landing a job as a records clerk for the Seattle Police Department.It was the graveyard shift. But, she didn’t seem to mind the late night walk to work.  She was new in town and was glad to have found steady employment.  And, a respectable job at that.  Which also afforded Susan plenty of free time to do what she enjoyed best: hanging out with friends at Seattle Center.  There were carnival rides, games of chance, food and music from all over the world.  There was even a clown who was hired to saunter the 74 acre grounds, making balloon animals and keeping everyone smiling.Susan lived  just a few blocks away.  In fact, she was such a regular at the downtown venue that she’d become friends with the clown and was seen walking around with him on several occasions, possibly even holding hands.The last time they were seen together was just hours before Susan’s disappearance on a warm summer night in July.Her body would be found days later in an elevator at Seattle Center.  Susan had been attacked and strangled, and the clown had abruptly quit without explanation. Was there something sinister hiding behind that painted smile?  Without any real evidence or witnesses, the case went cold.It was more than 50 years later, when new scientific techniques and a citizen sleuth with a tenacious appetite for justice would finally give Susan’s family the answers they’d been searching for for so many years.But, was it the clown?  Were they right all those years ago? Had the killer slipped through their fingers?

Some children are sensitive. But, I’m not talking about the child that’s quick to tear up or is shy.I’m talking about the empathic child who sees or feels things before they happen. They have the ability to sense things.   Maybe, 10 year old Lindsey Baum had that gift, to sense light that exists around us, but darkness, too. A skeptic would scoff at the word psychic. And would point to Lindsey’s love of Harry Potter and Twilight for her fear of the dark, a time Lindsey would refer to as “The Witching Hour.”   But, Lindsey’s mom believed in her girl’s heightened intuition, particularly that summer in 2009. She remembers it well, for it haunts her, the fact that Lindsey didn’t know what, but that something wicked this way comes.Tragically, Lindsey’s premonition was right.

The Evergreen State is known for its rainy days, precipitation that some say never ends. But we like to keep a little secret. Summertime in the Pacific Northwest is something else.July and August, a beautiful 75 degrees with nothing but blue skies as far as the eye can see. The perfect backdrop for wherever your pleasure takes you, hiking in the forest, boating in the Puget Sound, or swimming in the hundreds of lakes and rivers.  But, the summer of 2018 was different.It was a scorcher, with 11 days of over 90 degrees. Not only was it hot that summer, our corner of the world felt like it was on fire. Devastating wildfires were raging out of control in Washington, Oregon, California and British Columbia.The days were foreboding as smoke blotted out the sun. Even at night there was little reprieve from the heat. Cool winds brought in a fresh delivery of smoke and light ash.  And there was something else under the cover of darkness that summer. A predator was hunting cats.Cities were on edge. Neighbors trolled the streets in citizen patrols. A reward of over $50,000 was offered to find the cat killer, and a task force of detectives were assigned to the case.But, just as soon as the killing started, once the rain came back to Seattle at summers end the cat killings mysteriously stopped.But did they?  

He wore mirrored sunglasses. Aviators. With a black suit, a white shirt, a clip-on tie and loafers.It was the day before Thanksgiving in 1971.  The mystery man approached a ticket agent at Portland International Airport and paid cash for a one-way ticket to Seattle, signing his name Dan Cooper.Once he was on the plane, he took the middle seat in the last row.  It was a little after three o’clock, not quite happy hour, but Cooper ordered a drink from the stewardess, a bourbon and soda, while he was waiting for the flight to take off.  He took out a cigarette, and began to smoke. This was the 1970’s afterall.Then, just minutes later, he handed a note to the stewardess, who’d been seated just behind him in the crew quarters.  She thought he was trying to flirt with her.But, when she opened the paper she was shocked to read his demands. He said he had a bomb in his briefcase and that he wanted her to sit next to him.  Stunned, the stewardess did as he was told.  Cooper opened a cheap attache case.  Inside, she could see several red colored sticks and a mass of wires that just could have been a home-made bomb.Then, she was taking a note to the captain. Cooper was demanding four parachutes and $200,000.  He indicated he would only allow the plane to land and the passengers to leave safely once they had the money and the parachutes waiting on the tarmac.The plane circled over Seatac airport while the FBI contacted a local bank and a local parachuting school.  Once they had the items ready, the plane was cleared for landing.Cooper allowed all of the passengers to get off, but kept several crew members back and demanded they set a course for Mexico City.He told the crew to stay in the cockpit and not to come out, leaving Cooper alone in the main cabin.It was a long flight.  They would have to stop in Reno to refuel.  And when they did, they discovered Cooper and the cash had vanished.That was the last anyone saw of the only American hijacker who got away.After decades of investigations, considering more than 800 suspects, the question remains: What happened to D.B. Cooper?Could new scientific techniques help them finally solve this mystery?A team of Citizens Sleuths is now on the case, getting a first-hand look at the F.B.I.’s cache of evidence, debunking theories, and getting closer and closer to learning the truth…..

A record setting jury award is announced for the family of Susan Cox Powell in the deaths of her sons, Charlie and Braden.

He was known to have a way with the ladies. When he was young, Martin Pang was known as a wanna be playboy. He knew how to wine and dine his paramours (on his parents dime). But there was a dark side to his certain brand of charisma.Who knows when that dark seed began to grow inside this lucky boy who’d been rescued at 6-months of age from a life of certain poverty and hardship. His adoptive parents doted on and loved this boy, making his every wish come true. But that love, that attention, that ‘Martin can do no wrong' devotion just wasn’t enough. It was never enough.  As Martin matured into adulthood, collecting a fat paycheck from the family business without doing a lick of work, that anger stoked by feelings of entitlement and greed continued to grow.By the 1990s Martin racked up a few failed businesses, no doubt adding fuel to his rage. His latest career goal as an actor wasn’t working out, either.He was getting desperate. What was a spoiled rich kid to do? The constant supply of little red envelopes filled with wads of cash began to dry up and the once successful family business that had fueled his exploits for decades had fallen on hard times.Who knows when the idea hit him, Martin’s great plan at redemption, but one thing is for certain: It involved leaning in to his high school nickname, “Pyro Pang," a nod to his reputation of threatening to torch the property of his perceived enemies.His parents and the warehouse where they had toiled in for decades could give their golden boy one final sacrifice. By destroying the building, the insurance money would restore his easy street lifestyle. It took just one match, set at the bottom corner of the old, dried plywood wall. Within minutes flames ignited, licking the walls of the old warehouse. What Martin hadn't planned for was the four Seattle fire fighters who would lose their lives battling the blaze, making it the worst tragedy in the history of the Seattle Fire Department. 

From a dilapidated mobile home on rural Camano Island to the warm island breezes of the Bahamas, the legend of the Barefoot Bandit’s international crime spree has inspired books, movies and countless ballads.A poor kid from a broken home, Colton Harris Moore was hell bent on living the high life, sleeping in luxury homes, driving fancy cars and flying private airplanes, even if those luxuries weren’t his for the taking.Whether he was a modern-day Robin Hood or an envious teen with no regard for his many victims, there’s one thing that’s indisputable, Colton was a smart kid from a troubled home who wasn’t afraid to follow his dreams… no matter the cost.It would all come to a head on a hot summer night in 2010.After nearly two years on the run, the Barefoot Bandit was spotted at a marina on Harbor Island in the Bahamas.  Someone called out to him, but the Bandit dropped his shoes and shirt on the dock and jumped into the water.  He swam out into the darkness and managed to climb onto a boat with the keys still inside.But, the police were hot on his tail in a yacht of their own.  They gave chase, firing at the stolen boat, disabling the engine.  The bandit was cornered, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He took out a gun and pointed it at his head, threatening to pull the trigger.In the end, he decided to give himself up instead.  Still barefoot, the Bandit was handcuffed and taken back to shore, to the police station, where he was met by throngs of followers. Some of them were cheering his capture. Others, just trying to catch a glimpse of the poverty-stricken teen who made his dreams his reality. At least for a time.But, he’s not the only kid who’s ever grown up with big dreams or rebelled against his troubled past.So, how did he get here?  Why Colton?  And, where is he now?

Everybody knows everybody.It’s a saying they throw around a lot in Raymond, Washington. An eclectic Pacific Northwest town known for its logging, oyster farms and the salty air blowing in from the Pacific Ocean.There’s another saying locals would also come to know well: Nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors.They were referring to the quaint little red farmhouse just outside Raymond with the white picket fence. Even the mailbox was cheery. Little yellow suns had been painted on the side with smiley faces alongside pink hearts.But, the gate to this idyllic little home, complete with bird feeders and wind chimes, was always closed.Michelle Knotek’s daughters were always well appointed at school, outfitted with the latest fashions. Shelly’s third husband, David, was a local boy. Everybody loved David.Michelle, or Shelly as she preferred, was known to be nice when she wanted to be. Behind her back she was called “Crazy Shelly” because of her volatility. She was known to run hot, like a kettle full of water left boiling on the stove. It was certainly an apt metaphor for Shelly’s temperament. It just happened to be one of her favorite tools of torture, watching what scalding hot water did to the skin and the reaction of her victims.But, Shelly wasn’t alone. David, was a willing recruit. And the kids were forced to take part as well.The power to abuse and manipulate others was too sweet an intoxicant for Shelly, who reveled in her victims suffering.Now, those victims fear Crazy Shelly could be getting out of prison and looking for retribution.

She was a blondie with hazel eyes. Ann Marie Burr at 8 years old was lively and good-natured. Her smile was legendary.She was big sister to Julie, who was 7, Greg, 5, and 3 year old Mary.The large Catholic family called the North End of Tacoma home. Their tidy, brick, English style bungalow was the kind of house the big, bad wolf couldn’t blow down. At least that’s what they thought on that hot August day in 1961…It was a Wednesday in the last week of summer vacation. The sunshine had been muted by dark, foreboding clouds. The air had turned muggy when Ann Marie came bounding through the door, begging her mother Bev for a sleep over at her friends.With summer was winding down, the harried mother of four young children felt it was high time to tame her wily brood from the ad-hoc summer routine in preparation for an early morning school schedule.So, she nixed the sleepover.Oh, how that split-second decision would come to haunt her.The storm kicked into high gear, heavy rain hit the rooftop, wind howled. It was a “batten down the hatches” kind of night.In the middle of the night, Ann Marie, sharing a room with her baby sister, awoke to her Mary crying. She was still nursing a broken arm and it was bothering her.Ann Marie dutifully brought Mary to her parents room. Their mother soothed her cries and sent the girls back to bed.All was quiet, except the family dog, Barney barking. Bev and Don thought the storm was to blame for spooking the pooch. They had no idea that evil had entered the family home as they lay sleeping.At 5 a.m. Bev awoke with a start. Was it mother’s intuition?She went to check on the children. Ann Marie’s bed was empty.Bev flew down the stairs and as she descended to the living room she was blasted with cool air. The front door was ajar and the dining room window was wide open.Outside she noticed a garden bench had been moved from the backyard and placed beneath the open front window.Her heart thumped into high gear. Blood rushed in her ears. Where was Ann Marie?Several neighbors recalled seeing a peeping Tom lurking around their yard, peering into the Burr’s windows.Ann Marie’s father scoured the neighborhood. A construction site at nearby University of Puget Sound caught his attention, especially when he saw mounds of fresh dirt in piles around deep ditches. Near one of those sites he observed a teenage boy kicking dirt into a ditch with his foot.Did that kid have a smirk on his face?Don begged the police to search the site, which they did four days later. But, by then everything had been filled in.Ann Marie was never seen again.What they didn’t know back then was that surly teen just could have been Ted Bundy.

The tiny fishing village of Olalla, Washington was home to only a few dozen families when Dr. Linda Hazzard came to town.It was the dawn of the 20th century.The big city doctor was building her own private hospital and a circle of little cottages where her patients could live while they were getting treatments.50 miles outside Seattle, along the waters of Puget Sound, it was an idyllic spot for her Institute of Natural Therapeutics. Even before they had finished building, Dr. Hazzard’s new hospital drew people from all over the world. People wealthy enough to afford the very best medicine that money could buy.Dr. Hazzard wasn’t shy about making sure she got every penny she deserved, forcing her patients to pay up front and even having them sign over power of attorney so she could control their fortunes, even if they didn’t survive her “treatments.”For decades the doctor performed what she claimed were cutting edge treatments for deadly diseases, like cancer, on members of some of the most prominent families in the Seattle area. And, while many of her patients died under her care, Dr. Hazzard’s autopsies would show it was their illnesses that killed them, not her revolutionary medicine.Even when neighbors started talking about the walking corpses they would see wandering around the property at night and there were headlines in the local paper about the “Woman MD” who kills her patients, the steady stream of high society clients continued showing up at her door.They were desperate, sometimes dying, and always willing to do just about anything to buy back their health.Whatever her motives, one thing was clear: Dr. Hazzard was hell bent on proving her treatments worked.  Even a conviction for murder wouldn’t stand in her way.

So many twists and turns led Idaho investigators to an unassuming home where a search warrant was served on a cold morning in January 2020.But what are police looking for?Clues to the whereabouts of two children missing since September.17 year old Tylee and her little brother J.J. had vanished without a trace.Normally, when children go missing, you’re heart feels heavy watching their desperate mother beside themselves with grief, begging the community for help.But there was nothing normal about Tylee and J.J.’s mother, Lori Vallow.Detectives are still peeling back the layers of a case that spans multiple states and potentially five murders. And at the center of this heart of darkness is Lori, her new husband, Chad Daybell, and their involvement in what some call a doomsday cult.It’s alleged they believed they were gods with the vision to see darkness in people, loved ones even, like Lori’s previous husband who she believed had turned into a zombie.The search for Tylee and J.J. ended in June, when their remains were discovered buried in Chad’s backyard. Now it’s time for justice.Who was responsible for their murders? And why?

John Benson was a family man.  The truck driver from Tacoma was a father of five.  And, every once in a while, he liked to get away. He liked to go hunting.In October of 2000, John was braving the frigid and unpredictable weather just outside Mount Rainier National Park.  It was prime hunting season for deer and elk.John had been hunting his whole life, and he knew how to do it right.  That’s especially important in an area that can get down below freezing at night with gusting winds and sometimes even an early autumn snowfall.Although, he wasn’t exactly ‘roughing it.’His large, walled tent was outfitted with a cot, a pellet stove and even a kitchenette.John was just looking for some alone time. He had driven several miles along winding dirt and gravel roads at the base of the mountain, through dense forest, until he found a little clearing. It was the perfect spot for his cozy ‘home away from home.'Imagine his surprise when, early one evening, a stranger came knocking on his canvas door.A stranger who would offer John a little liquor and conversation.  A stranger who would be the last person to see John alive….

Pierce County is the second-largest county in Washington State. Its largest city, Tacoma, is about 33 miles South of Seattle.The largest public employer in Pierce County is the military at Joint Base Lewis McChord. In the 1970's the population included a lot of young, single men that the Carbone gang liked to take advantage of.They called themselves The Enterprise. But, Carbone’s crew got, how should we say, a little too big for its britches. How else to explain what would come next: a civil servant shot four times, point blank, right in front of his family.And he wasn't the only one who would be targeted for knowing too much.

History is told through the eyes of the victors.The legends of the Wild West are no different. Like the notorious outlaw Billy the Kid, who some say got a raw deal.The Pacific Northwest had its own legendary lawbreaker. John Tornow, also known as the Wildman of the Wynoochee.He was an expert tracker, an excellent shot and he preferred the wilderness to the company of other people. He lived off the land, shooting elk and trapping frogs that were found just about everywhere in the rainforest of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula.In the end, the Wildman was hunted down, accused of murdering six people."He was one that would shoot first, then ask questions later," explained Bill Lindstrom, author of John Tornow: Victim or Villain.But, was he really the outlaw the homesteaders had grown to fear? Or was he just a misunderstood recluse defending himself against those who refused to leave him alone?

Spring in Seattle. It’s a little soggy and the wind still kicks up a bit.But, the ever present drizzle is mere background music for many Seattleites because April means the Mariners come out of hibernation.That's something Ingrid Lyne could relate to. At 40, Ingrid was a newly divorced mom of three young girls who had recently stepped back into the dating scene.On April 8th 2016, Ingrid was out on the town. Her ex-husband had the girls overnight and she was enjoying that Great American past time, the home opener at Safeco Field. She wasn’t sitting alone, among that sea of fans in the open air arena. Ingrid was sharing the backdrop of the beautiful Seattle skyline on a chilly night with a new friend.That is, until those bright lights at a big city game would recede into the background…The next morning, when Ingrid’s ex brought the girls home after their sleepover, Ingrid, a fit nurse who prioritized her children above all else, was nowhere to be found.That is until the gruesome discovery of dismembered body parts that put the entire city on high alert.A senseless and gruesome crime. A community on edge as investigators tracked down a killer. What happened to Ingrid Lyne? And why?

His family called him Lennie, after the large, lumbering character from the Steinbeck classic Of Mice and Men. A simple-minded man who is usually unaware of how his actions affect everyone around him.It’s easy to see how that moniker fell onto Donald Dunn.His final hours of freedom were filled with a series of errors that seemed par for the course in his life.At 23, Dunn already had a couple of kids by two different women, and he had convinced his 17 year old girlfriend, Vanessa, to run away with him to California.  She had a troubled past of her own, and was living with eight brothers and sisters at the end of a country road on the east side of King County, just outside the city of Snoqualmie.So, on June 2nd, 1993, they stole a Volkswagen Van. But, they hadn’t even made it out of town, when they ran out of gas.  They hopped out and hopped into another stolen car.  Donald was apparently intent on having that van, though. They filled up a jerry can at the gas station and headed back towards the Volkswagen.They were just yards from reaching it, when they were pulled over by police. Dunn was on the run, with Vanessa in tow, sprinting toward the van. That's where Donald would make his final stand and Vanessa would take her final breathe.Hostage Negotiator Jim Fuda takes us back to the Scene of the Crime to walk us through those final moments. He also takes us with him to prison, where he tries to answer the age-old question… WHY did Lennie do it?

The murder of Thomas Crane Wales rocked the Seattle area. He was one of the good guys, a federal prosecutor who was known to be fair, but firm.Wales was gunned down in his Seattle home on a chilly October night in 2001. Despite valiant efforts by law enforcement, after nearly 20 years the person or people responsible for the murder have never been brought to justice. In episode one of To Kill a Prosecutor we talked with the hosts of the podcast Somebody Somewhere, David Payne and Jody Gottlieb. They were the first independent journalists to take a hard look into the case.Just three months before Wales was murdered, a pilot had been the target of the prosecutor's last case. Some say the pilot either pulled the trigger himself or paid a hitman to do it because of a grudge.But, is the pilot's alleged motivation for wanting Wales dead just smoke and mirrors in an investigation that, from the beginning, was doomed because of tunnel vision?In part 2 of To Kill a Prosecutor we'll continue to pull on threads that the hosts of Somebody Somewhere dug up in their three year investigation, the elaborate sting against the pilot, and more details of Wales's last case that some say point to a conspiracy.If you have any information in this case, you can make an anonymous tip through Crime Stoppers USA.

The Queen Anne home of Thomas Wales, the site of his murder.The writer of "The Gidget Letter" claims to be Wales' killer. FBI agents have their doubts. Image courtesy Seattle FBI.Two bulls locking horns in a bitter court battle waged between a beloved federal prosecutor, Thomas Crane Wales, and a defendant known only as "The Pilot." Some say a bitter grudge was the motive for the shots fired in the dead of night that left Wales bleeding out in his Seattle home. It's alleged that the lone shooter was The Pilot or that he was the maestro of a small conspiracy. That it was his way of exacting  revenge against Wales, who he believed ruined his life.It's been nearly 20 years and The Pilot has never wavered from proclaiming his innocence. Despite nearly two decades under the FBI's microscope, no charges have ever been filed against him in Wales murder.But what if there was something else at play here? What if federal agents suffered from tunnel vision, with The Pilot always in their sights?What if this bad blood story was just the tip of the iceberg and the real story lay underneath the cold, murky waters of Wales's old case files; An alleged conspiracy far more insidious involving a helicopter, The Pilot, the government, and a corporation playing puppet master. In this episode Jody Gottleib and David Payne, Producers of Somebody Somewhere, share new information about the murder investigation that has us asking – Was the respected prosecutor really the pillar of integrity he appeared to be?

The Mad Doctor of South Hill. That’s what they called him. And, it fit like a glove.The story of Rudolph Hahn is like an old black and white Film Noir from Orson Welles, a slow burn that reminds you none of us are getting out of this thing called life… alive.It was 1924 and the doctor was about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food cake. And his wife, well, she had a great big dollar sign where most women have a heart.But, like a tree falling in an empty forest, you can get away with just about anything when everyone is willing to look the other way.That’s just what money does.  It sweetens the world around you, hiding the bitterness you bring until it’s too late.The Mad Doctor’s wife swallowed her bitter pill in the form of a bullet.  A fatal dose that the cops said she delivered to herself. The Luger pistol found in her cold, dead hand.But, what about all the other bullet holes that riddled the room where she took her final breath?This wasn’t going to be an open and shut case, and it didn’t look like the doc was going to be much help.When the gumshoes showed up he was high on the devil’s drink, watching his racehorse graze on the front lawn, like there wasn’t a dead woman lying in a pool of blood just upstairs.But, to really understand this case we need to go back to the Scene of the Crime and back in time. Before television and radio. Before the world was introduced to the atomic bomb.Back when a mysterious pandemic was striking down millions of people all over the world.  Back when they started wearing masks every time they left their homes, school and work was canceled, and even churches were shut down.This episode includes information from the book Washington Myths and Legends by Lynn Bragg.

Rabbit Holes. We all go down them. Especially in this time of pandemic. In this Deepish Thoughts, we talk about why we do this to ourselves and the impact it can have on our lives. We also have a preview of our next episode, The Mad Doctor of South Hill! (Keep an eye out for that one on Thursday.)

Susan Powell's journals reveal a young woman who yearned to be a wife and mother. And Susan was an amazing mother to Charlie and Braden.Oh, how she tried to be a good wife to Josh Powell. But, her husband didn't make that easy. Not by a long shot.Trapped in an emotionally abusive marriage, she leaned into her religion for guidance and support. No one could have seen the depths of depravity Josh would delve into to get what he wanted.In episode 2, we continue to unpack how Susan's disappearance and Josh's behavior afterward would set in motion what would become a runaway freight train of events hurtling toward the unthinkable: The murders of Charlie and Braden by their own father.

Murder, religion, domestic violence, money, pornography, depravity, manipulation. The Susan Powell case is the worst of the worst.How did it all go so wrong?If you asked those close to Susan, all she ever really wanted was to be a wife and mother.In 2009, Susan worked a full-time job, was an amazing mom to her two little boys, Charlie and Braden, and she was very active in her church. It was her refuge in a stormy marriage.On the outside, they appeared to be a happy family. But on the inside, nobody could imagine the kind of hell Susan was going through, being controlled, manipulated and degraded by an emotionally abusive husband, Josh.Susan wanted out. She threatened a divorce. But Josh made it crystal clear that if Susan tried to leave him there would be consequences.Susan made a video documenting the family’s possessions in case something happened to her. She hid that video and a secret will in a safe deposit box that she made sure Josh didn’t know about.In the will she expressed her fears – the worry over the million-dollar life insurance policy in her name; the threatening arguments with Josh.Susan wrote, “If I die, it may not be an accident, even if it looks like one. Take care of my boys.”Just 16 months later Susan disappeared. The only thing left were the breadcrumbs she left behind.Tragically, three years later the breadcrumbs wouldn't be enough to save her boys from their father.And now, over 10 years later, Susan's family is still hoping for some kind of justice.If you or someone you know needs help to deal with domestic violence, you can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline 24 hours a day.You can also get involved in supporting children placed in emergency foster care by making a donation to Charlie's Dinosaur.

Carolyn shares an amuse bouche of food-inspired true crime stories as we contemplate the foods that we might be willing to commit a crime for.

Nirvana, Sound Garden, Pearl Jam. Seattle in the 90’s saw the birth of Grunge music.The punk-metal hybrid of music was championed by the newly minted SubPop Records and by throngs of teens in ratty flannels and slept-in hair who felt connected with the message of discontent with the status quo.What started as an underground music scene in Seattle, quickly caught on and grew all over the world.  The angry and sometimes violent lyrics spoke to young people whose angst tainted their view of themselves, their families and society as a whole.And, in a small farmhouse in McCleary, Washington it was the music of an Australian grunge band that some say inspired the murder of a mother, a father, and their 5 year old son at the hands of an angsty teen who just didn’t seem to fit in.It’s a crime that would end up changing the way Washington courts deal with killer kids forever.

Note: This episode discusses the alleged plot to kidnap a baby. However, this is an ongoing investigation and the opinions of the hosts and interviewees are opinions, not facts. Everyone is presumed innocent unless proven otherwise in a court of law.

In 1969, the city of Renton was still just a small town, home to about 20,000 people. Their crowning achievement was the single-story library that had just been completed.  It was the first, and is still the only library to be built over a river. The building literally hovers over the water, held up by 12 giant columns in the middle and the riverbanks on either side.With walls of windows opening up to the natural beauty of the river, it was a popular study spot for students of nearby Renton Technical College, like 19-year-old Culinary student Carol Erickson.In December of 1969, Carol had gone to the library to work on an assignment. She was designing a menu for an elaborate dinner.By 7 o’clock, the winter darkness had set in. But, Carol was used to it. It was her routine to walk home from the library along a dirt road that parallels the Cedar River. It was less than a half mile back to her condo, but Carol never made it.  Her body was found naked and violated on the banks of the Cedar River.Carol’s case had been all but forgotten less than two years later, in the Summer of 1970, when the body of another young woman was found just a few miles away.  Then, in 1971 two little boys went missing.It would take three terrible crimes and the loss of four young lives before all the pieces would fall into place."He wasn't looking for a particular type of victim. He's just looking for whoever comes along, cause he would just roam the woods until he came across somebody. He's the Boogieman!"This episode includes information from Cloyd Steiger's new book Seattle's Forgotten Serial Killer.

We're honored to work with the Kitsap County Sheriff's Office as they work to identify the killers of the Careaga Family. Task Force investigators may be contacted at (360) 337-5636OrCrime Stoppers of Puget Sound: quadruplehomicideTF@co.kitsap.wa.us

It was the worst kept secret in Chinatown. The Wah Mee Club started as an elegant speakeasy in the basement of an upscale hotel, serving alcohol to those willing to skirt the liquor laws during prohibition. When the alcohol restrictions were lifted, the Wah Mee shifted to another black market pastime: gambling. And they catered to some of the highest of the high rollers on the West coast.Situated in the basement of a four story brick building, the only entrance was down a dark alley through two sets of steel doors. With a vigilant watchman always on duty, only those known to the owners would be allowed inside.The club was also a popular after hours spot for restaurant owners, bar managers and others in the Asian community who didn't have typical nine to five hours. It was where they would have a late dinner, grab a drink and gamble on Mahjong, Pai Gow and other Chinese games of chance. It wasn't unusual to find a few Seattle cops at the bar as well, chatting with the locals and turning a blind eye to the illegal gambling happening just a few feet away. "You can't get rid of gambling. You're just not going to be able to suppress it," explained Seattle Detective Dan Melton. "So if you, you get real active, it's just going to move someplace else." The neighborhood known as Chinatown was home to thousands of recent immigrants and their children fleeing difficult and sometimes violent situations back home. They tended to keep to themselves and were highly skeptical of police.That would all change in February of 1983 when three young men walked into the club looking for an easy score and left with the blood of 13 people on their hands.Homicide Sergeant Joe Stanford was the first to arrive at the Scene of the Crime. "That floor was literally covered in blood. Like somebody that's dumped a 30 or 40 gallon barrel of blood on the floor. It seems strange, but I just felt I could smell death."To find out more about our special tour guide Jake or to book an excursion of your own, check out Private Eye on Seattle Ghost and True Crime Tours.

A serial killer hunted young, vulnerable women and murdered them in an unspeakably cruel and depraved manner, disposing their bodies in the Green River and other heavily-wooded green spaces throughout King County for nearly 20 years. That is, until his capture in 2001.In episode one, we talked about how Gary Ridgway evaded capture because he didn't fit popular preconceptions of a serial killer. He was not a loner. He was either married or had a steady girlfriend during all of his adult life. He had steady employment, even receiving awards for perfect attendance. And, he had no significant juvenile or violent criminal history. At least, none that they knew of at the time.In episode two, we'll consider Ridgway's confession that would reveal there were signs of psychopathy all along. If only law enforcement knew when they had arrested Ridgway in 1982 for soliciting a prostitute that Ridgway had killed a cat by suffocating it when he was a kid. Or, that he stabbed a six year old boy when he was just a teen himself.Years later, a detective managed to locate that little boy, who was by then a grown man who was haunted by the memory.He had been playing near a wooded area near his house. He was wearing a cowboy hat and cowboy boots with two “six-guns” and a toy rifle. While playing with a stick, he says he can never forget the teenage boy who walked over to him and asked him if he wanted to build a fort.The trusting little cowboy followed the older boy into the woods. But, instead of building a fort, the teen stabbed him through the ribs and into his liver. The little boy gasped, clutching his mid section, and asked, "Why'd you kill me?" He could feel the blood pump out of the wound with every heart beat. His shirt became slick red with blood. It was gushing to the point where he felt it running down his leg and into his little boots.The teen, we now know, was Gary Ridgway. He began to laugh and, with a smile on his face, he took the knife and wiped the bloody blade across the little boys shoulder. As he folded the blade back up he said, “I always wanted to know what it felt like to kill somebody.”

While we really enjoy off-the-cuff conversations during our episodes, we also are very thoughtful and purposeful in the words we use. Whether it's victim versus survivor, prostitute versus sex worker, or some other descriptors, words that identify people are especially sensitive. Check out our second episode of Deepish Thoughts, then let us know – what words do you find cringe worthy?

Forest Green. It's a color most often associated with the Pacific Northwest. And, you've probably heard of the rain. Us Washingtonians are used to it. In fact, some of us love the rain so much there's a word for that: a Pluviophile, someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.Acres and acres of beautiful trees, in forests as far as the eye can see. Then there's the nooks and crannies throughout the state, where nature lovers escape the hustle and bustle of the cities. It was something the Green River Killer took advantage of. All those dark, heavily wooded and silent places where only the trees held the secrets of a cold-blooded killer's dark deeds. It would take nearly two decades before they would finally unmask the Green River Killer, the most notorious serial killer in our nation's history.

The title of our podcast is more than just an old cliché. We chose the name Scene of the Crime for two reasons. First, we hope to bring you an immersive audio experience that will make you feel like you are in the place and time where these crimes took place. Second, the time and location of an event can affect the outcome and the actions of the people involved. Listen to our very first Deepish Thoughts to learn more!

The Seattle home where the Emery brothers have lived since 1962 has a new wooden fence. Lindsey Baum (center) went missing in 2009. Her remains were found in 2017. While the Emery brothers have been investigated in connection with her disappearance and murder, no charges have ever been filed for this case.In the summer of 2017, Charles Emery had been diagnosed with dementia. Doctors felt it was no longer safe for the 82 year old to continue living in the two story Seattle home he’d been sharing with his brothers for more than 50 years.  His niece was named his legal guardian, and she began the process of gathering Charles' belongings so she could move him to an assisted living facility.The three Emery brothers never married.  Charles, the oldest, had worked for decades at Seattle Children’s Hospital.  His younger brother, 80 year old Thomas, had a variety of jobs over the years.  And his youngest brother, 78 year old Edwin, had been a long time Boeing employee.  They were reclusive, largely staying holed up in their home in the exclusive Green Lake neighborhood that was filled to the brim with things they’d collected over the years.Newspapers and books lay alongside handwritten manifestos detailing the rape and murder of children.  Old pots and pans were piled up along with items of children’s clothing, including dirty underwear. Even in the crawl space, there was stashed a pink child-sized hat partially buried in the ground.When Charles' niece came across a child-sized penny loafer that contained a tiny bottle of vodka with her initials written on it, she knew it was time to call the police."There is a subculture that thinks incest is a good thing, a very normal thing, that there's nothing wrong with it. These guys were one of those families," explained Seattle Police Captain Mike Edwards.Would the Emery women ever get justice? Did the brothers crimes extend beyond their own family? And what connection do they have with several missing girls whose cases remain unsolved to this day?If you have any information on the criminal activity of the Emery brothers or the murder of Lindsey Baum, please contact the Internet Crimes Against Children Unit of the Seattle Police Department. A similar poster was found in the Emery brothers' Seattle home.

Acme, Washington. A very pastoral landscape where cows were more common for cutting grass than lawnmowers. Judy Stavik was a hardworking single mom, a school bus driver, who had carved out a nice life for her three children and herself on a country property. Mandy Stavik was Judy's middle child. In high school, many called her the All American Girl. She was smart, beautiful, athletic. In 1989, Mandy was just 18 years old and a freshman at CentralWashington University. She came home for the Thanksgiving holiday and November24th was just like any other day. Mandy often went for a run on her usual route– from home to the river with the faithful family German Shepherd, Kira,totally absorbed in the music blasting from her Sport Walkman.It was a five mile run there and back. That was her routine.So, several hours later when the dog returned without Mandy, her family's worryquickly ratcheted up to panic. Law enforcement and the community searched nightand day for Mandy. Helicopters and locals on horseback, on foot, and in theirown vehicles joined the search, but there wasn't a trace.Several days later, Mandy's body would be found floating in the south fork of the Nooksack River.What happened to Mandy Stavik? That question would haunt not only the family, but law enforcement and the tight knit community of this idyllic, hardworking, slow down and smell the roses town for the next 30 years. The investigation would eventually pry open the crypt of something sinister, or rather someone, that would not only test the stamina of the community, but question the very framework of small town America where nothing bad ever really happened.

At 70 years old, Patrick Fleming was in the prime of his life.  A Navy veteran, Patrick had earned two Purple Hearts for heroic actions in Vietnam. He was proud of his medals and of his rare and valuable coin collection, which he kept stored in his apartment at the Four Freedoms House, a senior living complex in Seattle.  And Patrick had just met the love of his life, Rosemary Garnett. They first started chatting in the laundry room, passing the time between loads, and quickly grew very fond of each other. They even started talking about marriage. Both were surprised and delighted to find love so late in life.  Rosemary and Patrick would often make dinner together, then watch the evening news. One evening in December of 2011, the couple had just finished up their usual routine. It was getting late and was time for Rosemary to take her nightly medication. It was just a short walk back to her apartment. She lived at the Four Freedoms as well. When she went to take her pills, she reached into the fridge and realized she’d left her orange juice at Patrick’s place. She gave him a call. But, there was no answer. Strange, since she just left him only minutes earlier. By the time Rosemary walked back over to Patrick’s apartment, it was too late."He was pretty bloody. There was a lot of blood on the floor, blood around the room, and he had vicious wounds to his throat near the point of decapitation," recalled Detective Cloyd Steiger. "It was a violent, violent death."

Season 1 Episode 4Victims of the Hillside Stranglers

Season 1 Episode 3It was a Sunday morning in the spring of 2012. A small, onestory home in North Bend was on fire. Firefighters wanted to get inside tofigure out the best way to fight the flames and to ensure there were novictims. Unfortunately, this wouldn't be one of those textbook situations. First, the front door was blocked. There was something inside barring them from even cracking it open. They found a side door off the car port and went in that way. As they started searching the home they noticed the gas cans, which appeared to be full, scattered throughout different rooms of the house. And they found the victims. 41 year old Lynnettee, still lying in her bed. Her 18 year old daughter Kayleen also seemed to have died in her sleep.But was it the smoke that consumed them or something evenmore sinister? And, who lit the match?“If he had been as good an arsonist as he was a murderer andbuilder, then we may not have found him.”

Season 1 Episode 2The holidays, a magical time filled with joy, laughter andtradition. Something Judy Anderson and her husband, Wayne, were looking forwardto celebrating with three generations of their tight knit family. Little didthey know that for more than half of their clan, this Christmas would be theirlast.It was Christmas Eve 2007 and, like clockwork, the Andersonfamily gathered for an annual celebration at their Carnation home. A heavilywooded property, a large metal gate ran the length of a private driveway. Itwas closed and secured with not only a chain, but several padlocks. Keepingfamily in… and strangers out.A steep dirt road led up to the Anderson property, thatlooked more like a homestead. The main house, a modest rambler surrounded bytowering evergreens, flanked by gigantic sword ferns. A quarter mile from themain house, around the bend of the dirt road, was the single wide mobile homeJudy and Wayne's 29 year old daughter, Michelle, had been living in for thepast six months with her boyfriend, Joe.Everything was prepared for their annual gathering. Judy,she was ecstatic. All would be in attendance. Judy and Wayne's three adultchildren, Mary Scott and Michelle, along with their partners and thegrandchildren. Both Mary and Scott were bringing their little ones, the applesof Judy's eyes. Never could she have imagined that six people would lose theirlives that evening in what would become one of the most horrendous familymassacres in Washington State history.But some wonder if the outcome could have been different. Ifonly the Sheriff's deputies who responded to the first 911 call had scaled thepadlocked metal gate and made that long trek up that steep private road on foot…instead of driving away.

Season 1 Episode 1For more than eight years, a cabin hidden amongst the treesof the Mount Baker Snoqualmie National Forest kept its wicked secret. Perchedabout 10 feet off the ground on a wooden platform, what would come to be knownas the Fairy Cabin had mud brown shingles surrounding several sets of glasswindows. There were wooden shutters, a steep pitched roof, and what looked likerunes of the occult carved into the walls and floor of the structureTo the few who found it, the cabin looked like thegingerbread house out of a Grimm Brothers fairy tale. Beautiful and magical,but also eerie and mysterious. Snuggled amongst towering evergreens, it hadbecome covered in the same blanket of plush green moss that also covered everytree, bush and boulder.It was almost like the Fairy Cabin had always been there. Likeit belonged there. In this old growth forest Douglas fir, hemlock and westernred cedar grow skyward, shoulder to shoulder, their branches weighed down bythick tendrils of hanging moss. From the Canadian border down to Mount Rainier, the forestcovers nearly 2 million acres. For most of it, you won't find a paved road, agravel path, or even a dirt trail. It took a park ranger with an intimateknowledge of the forest and an insatiable appetite for justice to finally ridthis place of the evil that had been born there, and perhaps to see the Fairy Cabinburned to the ground“I was looking into this expecting something kind ofwhimsical and weird. And now I was looking at it and saying, Oh my God, this isa crime scene. And I was just absolute shock. I couldn't believe it,” sharedTrail Steward CJ Jones.