In November of 1979, a man was found beaten to death along a quiet trail in a New Hampshire college town.

For more than forty years, Debra Stone’s murder lingered in the uneasy space between knowing and proving.

In December of 2024, I shared an episode about a 24-year-old musician whose life was cut short in New Haven, Connecticut in 1990.

When Mark Knapp’s routine commute home from work one February night in 1984 ended with his car abandoned and his body at the bottom of an old marble quarry, the shock rippled far beyond one family.

Cam Lyman vanished in the summer of 1987, leaving behind a forty-acre estate, dozens of prizewinning dogs, and a silence that would stretch on for more than a decade.

17-year-old Brandi “Amy” Sullivan was used to coming and going.

Every now and then I uncover a case buried deep in the archives with circumstances that prove truth is stranger than fiction.

In late summer of 1990, a mother in central Maine seemed to slip quietly out of her own life.

More than a century ago during the winter of 1923, a quiet Christmas in East Hartford, Connecticut took a devastating turn that would echo far beyond that holiday.

Some cases linger for years not because the truth is hidden, but because the tools needed to prove it aren’t yet strong enough.

On a winter night in early February of 1992, John E. Volungis Jr. was standing on the edge of a brand-new life.

It was early January in North Kingstown, Rhode Island, when a discovery in a quiet stretch of woods changed a family forever.