Some stories disappear long before they are ever solved.

We’re proud to announce the upcoming release of The Lost Girls of Arkansas by LaDonna Humphrey, an award-winning author, investigative journalist, filmmaker, and nationally recognized victims’ advocate.

This powerful investigative work examines missing persons cases and unsolved murders that continue to haunt Arkansas decades later. With deeply researched storytelling, firsthand investigative work, and a victim-centered approach, Humphrey looks beyond the headlines to honor the daughters, sisters, mothers, and human beings whose stories deserve far more attention than they received.

The Lost Girls of Arkansas releases June 1, 2026, and is available for preorder now.

A missing woman becomes a faded headline. A murdered girl becomes a file stored in a box somewhere inside a courthouse basement. Families learn to live between hope and grief while communities slowly stop asking questions. Over time, silence settles in where outrage once existed.

The Lost Girls of Arkansas confronts that silence head-on.

In this powerful investigative work, award-winning author, journalist, and victims’ advocate LaDonna Humphrey examines missing persons cases and unsolved murders that continue to haunt Arkansas decades later.

Through deeply researched storytelling, firsthand investigative work, and a victim-centered approach, Humphrey explores the lives behind the cases — not as statistics or sensational headlines, but as daughters, sisters, mothers, and human beings whose stories deserve far more attention than they received.

Set against the backdrop of rural highways, isolated communities, river towns, and dense Arkansas forests, the book traces the lingering impact of unresolved violence across generations. It examines how poverty, addiction, indifference, institutional failure, media disparities, and social stigma often shaped which victims received urgency and which were quietly forgotten. In many cases, the investigations stalled long before the pain did.

Rather than glorifying violence, The Lost Girls of Arkansas focuses on the emotional and societal aftermath when justice never comes. Families fracture beneath unanswered questions. Witnesses carry secrets for decades. Entire communities adapt to fear, rumor, and uncertainty while predators sometimes remain hidden in plain sight.

Humphrey brings both investigative rigor and emotional depth to these cases, challenging readers to look beyond the surface of true crime and confront the broader realities surrounding unsolved violence in overlooked places. The result is a haunting and deeply human examination of memory, loss, justice, and the enduring fight to make sure victims are not erased by time.

LaDonna Humphrey is an award-winning author, investigative journalist, filmmaker, and nationally recognized advocate for victims of crime. She is the co-founder of All the Lost Girls and host of investigative podcasts focused on missing persons, cold cases, and justice reform. Her work has earned recognition for its ethical approach, relentless research, and commitment to giving voice to victims and families too often ignored.

Published by Genius Book Publishing, The Lost Girls of Arkansas is now available for presale.

Preorder your copy of The Lost Girls of Arkansas today and help keep these stories from being forgotten.

[Preorder now]

Some murders leave behind evidence.
Others leave behind questions.

In the early hours of a quiet fall morning in St. Louis Hills, a father stepped outside after hearing a car in his driveway — and discovered a nightmare that would haunt the city for decades.

Gary Consolino and Ellen Dooling had been executed inside a blue Oldsmobile Cutlass just feet from Ellen’s front door. No robbery. No witnesses. No clear motive. Despite one of the most intense homicide investigations in St. Louis history, the case remains unsolved more than forty years later.

This is one of the chilling cases featured in 25 Frozen 1 Thawed — a collection of cold cases, forgotten investigations, and the haunting questions that still remain.

HORROR IN THE HILLS

It was a crisp fall night, the kind of night good for sleeping. But John Dooling was awakened by a noise in his driveway. He looked at his alarm clock. It was 4 a.m. His daughter Ellen had been out on a date, and was supposed to be home at midnight. Startled by the noise, Dooling was suddenly worried. He looked out the window and saw a blue Oldsmobile Cutlass parked in front of his house, its engine still running. He recognized the car as Gary Consolino’s, Ellen’s date for the night. Concerned, he went outside, saw Ellen in the passenger seat, opened the door, pulled her out and screamed.

And screamed. And screamed again. A piercing scream so horrible and loud, lights flickered up and down the 6200 block of Walsh Street in the quiet St. Louis Hills neighborhood.

Gary and Ellen had been shot and killed. Bullets entered the passenger window. Ellen was shot in the head, Gary in the neck. Scraps of McDonalds food was spread through the car. There was no sign of a robbery. No sign of an assault. No sign of a struggle. There were no witnesses. There was no noise to awaken the sleepy neighborhood until John’s anguish rang out.

Sirens soon followed his cries, and police cars flooded the area. By the time the sun rose, the neighborhood was being canvassed. As the days went by, police would interview hundreds of people. Nearby Francis Park was combed inch by inch. Lie detector tests were given. School friends were questioned. The victims and their family’s private lives were probed. Rewards were offered. A hypnotist was brought in to question neighbors about any memories they had from their sleep. The investigation was as intense as any city homicide investigator could ever remember. Now, more than 40 years later, there are still no clear answers.

St. Louis homicide detectives were stumped. Where was the motive?

Numerous homicide detectives held the Consolino-Dooling case file over the years. The first was Herb Riley, who called not solving the case one of the biggest disappointments of his career. Riley was followed by Dan Nichols who worked tirelessly on the case before he too, retired. In 1987, seven years after Gary and Ellen were murdered, with their case still cold, homicide detective Chris Pappas asked to take over the investigation.

Pappas’ long and winding investigative road would eventually lead him to a man named Ronald Adcox who sat in the notorious Marion, Illinois Penitentiary. Pappas began digging and discovered that Adcox lived in south St. Louis at the same time as the murders, in a neighborhood right between the Consolino and Dooling homes. According to his friends, Adcox liked to hang out at Francis Park, just a block from where Dooling lived.

Pappas got in his car and made the two hour trek to Marion, entering multiple security stages to reach Adcox, who was housed deep in the bowels of the penitentiary, where the most dangerous inmates in a building of a thousand inmates, called home. Pappas sat down in a small guarded room. Across from him was Adcox, shackled and cuffed, a very large man with very long hair, who had been living in an eight-by-eight cell 23 hours a day.

“I have been waiting for you to come,” Adcox smiled.

After their initial hello’s, Adcox put his cards on the table.

“He looked me in the eye,” Pappas said. “And he says to me ‘I am a killer. And I will kill again if I have to.”

Pappas got right to the point. He came to talk about the Gary Consolino and Ellen Dooling murders from St. Louis in 1980.

“He told me he would not have done it if he was sober, but he said if he was drunk and high, he might have,” Pappas said. “I kept pressing him, and he just laughed. He told me he was going to make me prove it.”

Today, Adcox, transferred again, sits in a Texas prison, serving a life sentence. 40 years after Gary Consolino and Ellen Dooling were killed, Pappas still refers to Adcox as a suspect, and still remembers the final words from his mouth when they spoke.

“He told me If he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life locked up in prison, he might fess up.”

He will. And he has not.

Back in the quiet, peaceful neighborhood of St. Louis Hills, crime rarely returned. It is considered among the safest neighborhoods in the city.

If you’re fascinated by unsolved crimes, cold case investigations, and the mysteries that refuse to die, 25 Frozen 1 Thawed belongs on your shelf. Some stories fade with time. Others grow colder.

In my book On Call: Case Files from a Career in Homicide, I examine a range of homicide investigations that drew media attention. Not all of these cases made national headlines, and not all involved press conferences, but nearly every one received some form of coverage. In several of these investigations, I participated in press conferences, an aspect of the job that often appears essential, yet comes with significant drawbacks. A press conference is a double-edged sword: it can inform the public and generate leads, but it can also create complications that investigators must later manage. Law enforcement officials must recognize the limitations of press conferences, and the public should also understand what they can and cannot reveal.

Every time something significant happens in the world, the first thing I want to do is watch the press conference. I’ll admit it, I’m one of those people. When something breaks, I don’t go to Twitter or Facebook. I turn on the news because I want to hear directly from the officials involved. I believe they have more accurate information than what I’ll find online.

Yet almost every time I watch one of these press conferences, I walk away disappointed. I’m a curious person, and I’m a cop. I want more information. I want all the information, and I want it now. That’s how most of society feels. The problem is, you’re not going to get that level of detail from a press conference.

In my 22 years in law enforcement, I’ve been on both sides of these press conferences. I’ve worked high-profile investigations where a chief or deputy chief held a press conference about a case I was directly involved in. One important thing to understand is that press conferences are almost never given by the officer or detective doing the hands-on work. They’re typically conducted by a chief, deputy chief, or another high-ranking official, someone who is relaying information they’ve received from others.

Take the Mesa Police Department as an example. When we held press conferences, the chief or deputy chief would deliver them. They received their information from a deputy chief or commander assigned to the unit, who got it from a lieutenant, who got it from a sergeant who got it from me. There are multiple layers between the source of the information and the person presenting it. Departments don’t want to pull the working detective away from the investigation to speak at a press conference, because the priority is the case itself.

Because of this, the information presented in a press conference is not always timely, and it’s not always perfectly accurate. It’s often incomplete or slightly flawed. We’ve all heard of the “telephone game,” where a message changes as it passes from person to person. The same principle applies here. It’s not that anyone is lying, it’s simply human nature. People interpret and summarize information, sometimes adding their own understanding or assumptions along the way. By the time it reaches the public, the narrative can differ from what investigators are actually seeing on the ground.

This isn’t unique to law enforcement. It happens in every industry. A CEO doesn’t step aside and let an entry-level employee deliver a press conference about financials. The CEO becomes the face of the message, pulling information from multiple sources and presenting it in their own words. Law enforcement works much the same way.

Timeliness is another issue. Investigations, especially complex ones like homicides or officer-involved shootings take time. They have to. From the very beginning, investigators must be thorough and precise to avoid mistakes that could jeopardize the case or lead to evidence being thrown out in court.

For example, detectives must establish probable cause, which means clearly explaining what happened and why there is a legal basis to collect evidence. This often requires writing detailed search warrants, a process that can take hours depending on the complexity of the case, the amount of information, and how the situation evolves. While writing, detectives may receive new information updates from witness interviews, new locations, additional suspects which then must be incorporated into the warrant. The investigation can expand in real time.

Once the search warrant is completed, it must be reviewed and approved by a judge. That process also takes time. Judges don’t rush; they carefully and methodically review each warrant to ensure everything is legally sound and that there is sufficient justification to temporarily override someone’s privacy rights for the sake of a criminal investigation. Sometimes there’s only one judge available, and they may already be in court or handling other matters. You might be one of several warrants waiting in line.

The bottom line is this: legally and procedurally, investigations take time. Because of that, press conferences will always have limitations in what they can provide.

I still find myself dissatisfied at the end of most press conferences, but it’s important not to fall into the trap of satisfying your desire for information with details that are incomplete or incorrect. Press conferences aren’t designed to tell the whole story; they’re meant to inform the public in a controlled and measured way, not to deliver every fact or predict the final outcome.

Patience is essential. We have to manage that need for immediate answers and trust that the full picture will come together over time. The truth does come out but it doesn’t come out all at once.

That said, I understand the frustration. I feel it too. Like everyone else, I want to know the facts, I want to understand what happened, and I want those answers now.

Curious what doesn’t make it into the headlines?
👉 Dive deeper into real investigations and the realities behind them in On Call: Case Files from a Career in Homicide

.

They stay with us—unfinished, unresolved, quietly waiting.

In August of 1992, Tammy Zywicki set out on a simple road trip. Three days. A drop-off. A return to school.

She never made it.

More than 30 years later, her story is still asking the same question: what happened on that stretch of highway?

THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

On August 21, 1992, Tammy and her younger brother Daren and a 1985 Pontiac T1000 packed with suitcases left Marlton, New Jersey for their three day cross country trip. Tammy would drop Daren off at Northwestern University in Chicago, where he was studying engineering. They had a couple of instances of Tammy’s car overheating along the way, but nothing major. And then it was onto Grinnell, where Tammy studied photography and starred on the soccer team.

Sometime between 3 and 4 p.m. that afternoon, numerous witnesses said they saw a young woman matching Tammy’s description standing outside her car, with the hood up, on Interstate 80 at mile marker 83, near Utica, Illinois. She was two hours outside of Chicago, and three hours from Grinnell. At 5 p.m., Illinois State police spotted the abandoned car.

There was no sign of Tammy.

The FBI took over the case, a missing person report was put out, and in the days that followed, more than 60 witnesses called police and said they had seen the young girl with the broken down car on the highway. An exhaustive search took place over the next week. Hundreds of volunteers and K-9 dogs took the ground, while police helicopters searched overhead.

JoAnn and Frank Zywicki arrived on the scene, pleading before television cameras for any information about Tammy. Back at Grinnell, as Tammy’s classmates began trickling back onto campus, word began spreading. And they went to work. One group of students began traveling up and down Interstate 80, passing out flyers with pictures of Tammy. Another group spread out to area truck stops and parks. Another group stayed back and gave their food money to the other groups for expenses. Grim days and candlelight vigil nights went by.

And on the morning of September 1, nine days after Tammy disappeared, a man driving a pickup truck pulled along the side of Interstate 44, near Mt. Vernon Missouri, some 500 miles from where Tammy was last seen, saying he thought he saw a body. Police quickly swarmed the scene. A young woman’s body was pulled from the blanket. She was wearing a shirt that said “East Side Eagles Soccer Club.”

Tammy’s team.

Dental records confirmed the body was that of Tammy Zywicki. She had been sexually assaulted, then stabbed seven times in her chest. And today, more than 30 years after her death, the case still sits.

If stories like this stay with you—the ones that don’t wrap up neatly, the ones that still linger—Bob’s book 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed explores cases just like this.

Stories that were left behind… and the rare ones that finally found their way forward.

Why would someone choose to write about tragedy in their retirement? For author and former journalist Bob, the answer lies not in darkness, but in remembrance, resilience, and the enduring pursuit of justice. In this deeply moving reflection, he shares the story that shaped his passion for true crime—and the unforgettable moment that reaffirmed his purpose.

People always ask me why I am writing true crime stories in my retirement. The answer walked through the door when I appeared recently for a book signing at the St. Louis library.

Many years earlier, while working for KMOV-TV, I did a story on the murder of Mary Macinski, a 33-year-old woman who was brutally killed in 1987. Mary had gone out for her evening walk, but never returned. Concerned, her father went looking for her, and found her body lying between two homes in a busy neighborhood. She had been stabbed 57 times.

Nobody heard a thing. Her killer was never found.

Mary’s family had dealt with their grief for years before I met them. But when I did, an amazing thing struck me. The family had come to peace with Mary’s murder, and in fact had forgiven the killer.

“People cry out for justice when what they really want is vengeance,” Mary’s sister Ann told me. Her other sister Emily agreed. “We have come to peace with it. We still would like the person to be caught. But we are at peace. We have forgiven the person.”

As I prepared to make my remarks at the library, and talk about the cold cases in my book 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed, I watched as a family walked in and sat in the front row. I had seen them before, but could not place them.

And then it hit me. It was Ann and Emily.

I talked about Mary that night. And after my presentation I hugged her family, just as I had years ago.

“You haven’t forgot us Bob,” Ann said. “And we haven’t forgotten you.”

Why am I writing true crime stores in my retirement? I think you know.

Discover the stories behind the headlines in 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed—a compelling collection of cold cases that honors victims, seeks truth, and keeps their memories alive.

Here is a short video of Kouri Richins, the Utah wife who was recently convicted of poisoning her husband., then writing a children’s book on dealing with grief. The video is from the officer who responded to the call at the residence at 3 a.m. Her husband, Eric, was unresponsive. It was later determined Kouri had given him a lethal dose of fentanyl in his drink. First, note how Kouri doesn’t seem to be under stress in the bedroom as she watches first responders attempt to save her husband. When an officer asks her to come out of the room and begins to ask her questions, the emotions then begin. Like most deceptive people, Kouri thinks this is the proper time to show that type of emotion. The officer asks her what time it was when she saw him alert. Kouri states they had a drink together at 9 (this is the drink believed to contain the drug). People normally start their story where the incident began. Kouri knows that was when the incident began because that was when she poisoned her husband. Kouri fails to make any eye contact with the officer as she continues to relate her story. She then goes into what is known as a quasi-fetal position. This is a comfort-seeking position often taken by those being deceptive. Kouri’s hands then go to her face, also often seen in those being deceptive. None of the signs in and of themselves are a clear indicator someone is lying; they are indicators of stress. In this case, that stress is due to deception. Could it be the stress from her husband being unresponsive? Yes, it could. However, so many indicators in this context in such a short period are certainly cause for concern... put your shovel down and start digging! All of these signs and more are detailed in my book, Uncover the Truth. If you want to know more about how people are truthful or deceptive, read the book!

Get your copy today… Uncover the Truth

Maybe most viewers don’t notice, but if you know the world being portrayed, it pulls you right out of the story.

So where’s the line between accuracy and entertainment?
And do writers really have to sacrifice one for the other?

Reality vs. Not Reality

I was watching a TV “cop show” the other day and saw an officer tuck a Glock, a striker fired weapon, into the front of his pants without a holster. I let out a breath, rolled my eyes, and shook my head.

Why do they have police technical advisors if they’re not going to listen to them? Or perhaps they have the wrong advisors? Or maybe their advisors have outlived their experience, or at least their tactical knowledge? Or maybe, it was their day off when they filmed that ridiculous scene. This is why the real police often hate, or don’t watch, “cop shows.”

One simply does not put a striker fired weapon in one’s waistband without a holster. If any cop does so, they’re an idiot and I’ll be happy to tell them so. It’s as dumb as shoving a cocked and locked 1911 .45 caliber handgun that doesn’t have its safety engaged into your pants. Bad idea. Stricker fired handguns do not have safeties or decocking levers and their triggers are engaged rather easily. One definitely wants to cover the trigger guard in a holster, especially if it’s tucked into the front of one’s pants, pointing at the family jewels.

Now, for the record, I do not want to be a technical advisor, and am not vying for a position as such. I just wonder about the quality and veracity of their advice.

Which brings me to early in my writing career. I was advised by bestselling author John Sandford that I should “be careful to not let reality get in the way of entertainment.” Sandford (whose real name is John Camp) said he understood much of police work hour-by-hour was boring, and he knew because he had served as a police reporter for many years in the Minnesota Twin Cities area.

As much as I love John Sandford, and/or Camp, and his books, I disagreed with this premise, primarily because I understood the rules well enough to manipulate them to my advantage, that is to say, the advantage of my story. I believed then, and still do, that I can make a story exciting and realistic at the same time.

For instance, spoiler alert if you haven’t read Out of Cabrini, and shame on you if that’s the case, lol, but I wanted a one-on-one battle between the hero, Stacey Macbeth, and a secondary antagonist, Antwan “Boo” Simms. I didn’t want Macbeth to have his radio as the scene unfolds, because in real life, a cop would call in a foot chase and more officers would descend on the area and search until they found the bad guy. It would probably culminate with twelve guys tackling Boo into submission, or at least it would have back in the day the book is set, when every community had more cops on the street than we see today.

What I did is have Macbeth begin to chase Boo, but he is sideswiped by a responding squad car, sending Macbeth into a group of plastic garbage cans, breaking his fall. He gets up, more or less unharmed, and commences to chase Boo. After a short period of time, when Macbeth recognizes that it’s going to be an extended foot pursuit, he reaches for his radio to call for reinforcements and discovers his radio is no longer in his vest. He is faced with continuing the chase by himself or going back to the scene and getting help, thereby giving the guy he knows has probably killed several people the chance to escape.

Of course, our protagonist would never allow such a thing as an escape to happen and continues on by himself, thereby setting up the story’s climactic one-on-one battle. I know the rule and was able to engineer a reasonable way around it. Ta-Da! Reality 1, Not Reality 0—or in literary terms, Realism 1, Not Realism 0. And just for the record, all of the cop’s handguns in Out of Cabrini were in department approved holsters—not tucked in their waistbands! Score another point for Realism!

If you’re someone who cares about getting the details right without losing the story, this is exactly the kind of balance we love exploring at Genius.

Check out Out of Cabrini here:

And let us know—
Do you prefer strict realism, or are you okay with bending the rules for a great story?

You work on these stories, you meet people, and your heart breaks. You long for the day that maybe, just maybe, you can bring them some good news.

I will never forget the day I met Dominic Consolino. We sat on a park bench in St. Louis, and he spilled his guts. It had been more than 40 years since his younger brother Gary was murdered, along with Gary’s date, Ellen Dooling. Despite one of the largest investigations in St. Louis history, the case went cold, and was never solved.

And 40 years later, now pushing 70, the memories of his brother were as strong as ever. “I would do anything to find out who killed Gary and Ellen,” Dominic told me. “It would be the greatest thing that could happen the rest of my life.”

I promised Dominic that I would tell Gary’s story. We prayed together, and with tears in his eyes we said goodbye. His final words to me were “Bob, thank you for writing about Gary. Someday, I believe you will call me with good news.”

Knowing that would take a miracle, all I could do was squeeze his hand and nod.

A couple of years went by. I began writing my Frozen book, keeping in contact with my police sources on the various cases. And then my phone rang.

“Bob, we may have a lead on the Consolino case,” a St. Louis police detective told me.

The suspect was in a prison out of the area, and was willing to talk. I hung up the phone and rushed to find Dominic’s phone number. We had not talked in over a year. I knew that any news would bring a smile to his face.

I called but could not reach him. I left phone and text messages, Days went by. I finally began calling other people I had met while working on the story, asking them to put me in touch with Dominic. Finally, a family friend called back.

“Bob, I’m sorry. Dominic passed away last week.”

Some stories get answers. Some don’t… at least not in time.

But every one of them matters.

This is the heart behind 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed.

In this powerful feature, Steve Monier reflects on one of the longest armed standoffs in U.S. Marshal history, offering a rare inside look at the strategy, restraint, and human judgment required in moments where force isn’t always the answer.

👉 Read the full article here: https://texastoday.com/patience-over-force-steve-monier-reflects-on-the-longest-armed-standoff-in-u-s-marshals-history/

Read the full piece, then tell us—what would you have done in that moment?

It’s a compelling reminder that sometimes the strongest move is… patience.

Get your copy of No One Has to Die today.

THE POLICEMAN’S DAUGHTER

On March 22, six weeks after Sabrina Cain disappeared from home, she was reported missing to the Belleville Police Department by her stepfather Fred Roark, who was the last person to see her. Roark was an officer for the police department.

Two men were target shooting on April 20, 1974 at Fournie Lake in Belleville, Illinois when they spotted it: a fully clothed body floating in the pond in two feet of water. Her name was Sabrina Jean Cain. Her bullet-riddled body was tied to a cement block, and her hands were tied behind her back.

Sabrina Cain was only 18 years old.

Now the Belleville Police Department had a murder investigation on their hands, and the last person to see the victim was one of their own. Detectives questioned their officer into the evening. He told police Sabrina was last seen on February 5, when she left the house angry, but would not say what was bothering her. He said their last conversation was about her going to look for an apartment, which Roark said he tried to talk her out of.

Officers asked Roark if he knew why anyone would want to kill Sabrina.

“You think she might have been pregnant?” Roark asked. The officers said they didn’t mean that, and the autopsy revealed she was not pregnant. Roark began crying.

“She is all I had,” he said.

Then the ballistics report came in: Sabrina was shot with a .38 caliber weapon. They went back to Roark’s house asking if he owned a private gun. He did, he told them. “What kind?”, they asked. A .38, Roark told them. Police asked to see it. Roark brought them into his house to get the gun. It was nowhere to be found.

“I must have lost it somewhere,” he told them.

With Fred Roark clearly in their spotlight, the Belleville Police Department had little choice. First, they suspended Roark with pay during the investigation. Then, they ordered Roark to take a polygraph. Roark relented, but refused to answer any questions other than his name, address, and occupation. They then suspended him without pay. Finally, two months later, Roark was fired.

Their investigation led them to only one possible suspect. Fred Roark. And then...

That’s just the beginning…. Get your copy of 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed today

But what if you were the detective?

In True Crime in Real Time, author Steve Scarborough turns the traditional true-crime format on its head by placing the reader directly inside the investigation. Instead of simply hearing about the crime, you walk the crime scenes, examine evidence, interview witnesses, and decide who you think is responsible.

In the interview below, Steve talks about the idea behind the book, the research that went into it, and why this immersive approach offers a completely different experience for readers who love crime stories and investigative puzzles.

Watch the conversation here:

If you enjoy true crime that lets you think like an investigator instead of just a spectator, True Crime in Real Time offers a unique twist on the genre.

Step into the role of detective, follow the evidence, and see if you can solve the cases yourself.

👉 Pick up a copy of True Crime in Real Time and test your investigative instincts.

His essay explores the legal framework behind the case and the broader questions it raises about justice and capital punishment.

Sometime during a 30-hour window from 12 a.m., Thursday, March 12, to 6 a.m., Friday the 13^th, the state of Alabama is scheduled to make morbid history by executing a man who the state has shown did not kill anyone.

The state knows that Charles Lee “Sonny” Burton was not immediately present in the 1991 robbery-related murder of a customer in a Talladega car parts store. The state fully acknowledges that Burton was outside the store when Doug Battle, a 34-year-old Army veteran and father of four, was shot and killed.

The man who did pull the trigger, Derrick DeBruce, was sentenced to death for the killing. In 2002, his death sentence was commuted to life in prison when a federal court ruled that he had been saddled with inadequate legal counsel at trial. DeBruce died in 2020.

The state prosecuted Sonny Burton under Alabama’s “felony murder statute,” permitting the state to bring murder charges against someone involved in a felony during which a murder occurs, even if that person did not directly participate in the killing.

Now 75, Burton is wheelchair-bound, suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, and has to wear a helmet due to persistent falls. He has exhausted all state- and federal-level appeals.

On August 16, 1991, a group of men, including Burton, entered a Talladega car parts store. At trial, state prosecutors portrayed Burton as the leader of the group. He left the store before the shooting, according to court testimony.

“Even people who are strongly in favor of the death penalty recognize that this situation is wrong,” Matt Shultz, an assistant federal defender representing Burton, told Alabama Public Radio. Burton was outside at the time of the shooting, Shultz said. “Even by the state’s evidence here, Mr. Burton did not kill anyone. Mr. Burton did not order anyone killed. He wasn’t even in the building.”

Lois Harris, a daughter of the victim, has joined the effort to save Burton from execution. “It’s not fair that he gets the death penalty and the killer gets life,” Harris said. “It’s just wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” Burton said. “If I had the power to bring (Doug Battle) back, I would. I’m so sorry…I hope and pray to God that you will grant me clemency. Allow me to reach out to the young people in the street.”

Burton’s hope for clemency resides solely with Alabama Governor Kay Ivey. Ivey’s spokeswoman, Gina Maiola, said, “Governor Ivey has no plans to grant clemency.”

The means of execution in Alabama is asphyxiation by nitrogen gas. The state adopted this as its means of capital punishment in 2023, becoming the first government in the world to use the method. Nitrogen hypoxia, essentially depriving the condemned of oxygen, was first used in the execution of Kenneth Eugene Smith, who was convicted of a murder-for-hire plot.

Smith’s 2023 execution proved a macabre spectacle. He suffered greatly, according to eyewitness accounts. Witnesses reported scenes of the condemned man “ripping his head forward over and over again,” of him “heaving back and forth,” of “minutes of someone struggling for their life,” and of his mask filling with bodily fluid.

It took 22 minutes to kill him.

Alabama, Oklahoma, and Mississippi are the only states that use nitrogen hypoxia as the means of capital punishment.

Charles Lee “Sonny” Burton is scheduled to become the fifth person in Alabama put to death by nitrogen hypoxia. His execution is set to take place at the William C. Holman Correctional Facility in Atmore.

S. Thorne Harper writes and resides in Birmingham, Alabama. He has written “The Alabama Tryst Murder Mystery,” a retelling of a 1927 capital murder case and the inaugural use of the electric chair. Harper’s book will be released by Genius Publishing on April 8, 2026—99 years after Alabama’s first electric chair execution.

THE CHILD LEFT BEHIND

Joyce Morris still thinks about that final night, May 15, 1992, visiting with her pregnant niece Valencia and her little boy. And then she thinks about what happened after Valencia and her son left and headed home.

“I woke up in the middle of the night, and I remember feeling really weird. I remember I had a terrible headache. And while I was up, I had this strange feeling like I needed to call Valencia, to talk to her, but it was the middle of the night, and I knew it was too late. I did not want to wake her up, especially with her little boy there.”

By the time dawn broke, police had surrounded the outside of Valencia’s home with crime scene tape. Detectives flooded the neighborhood. Inside was a crime scene beyond belief.

Valencia was lying on the floor in her bedroom, murdered, having been stabbed more than 25 times. The fetus of her baby girl due any day was also killed. There was no sign of forced entry. There was no evidence of robbery. Whoever entered that house in the middle of the night either had a key or was let in voluntarily by Valencia. The killer left few clues behind. But there was one thing the killer did leave behind: the 18-month-old little boy, alone, in the dark, with his bloodied mother and her unborn child.

Police immediately focused on two obvious suspects, the men in Valencia’s life. Antoine Jackson was the father of the unborn little girl, and Ricky Herron was the father of the 18-month-old left alive. Police looked into both men thoroughly, before ruling each of them out as suspects.

The years passed by and one thing never changed. A little 18 month old boy was growing up. His father was no longer part of his life, and he still longed for his mother.

His name is Aki Herron.

Today, Aki is 30 years old. He has never spoken publicly about that night until now.

“I was literally the only person right there. I could not do anything. I could not say anything,” Aki said. “I could not go for help. I could not be there for my mom. I was just right there.”

He may only have been 18 months old, but Aki says he has lived with a vision of what happened that night deep in his memory.

He is still haunted about that night 30 years ago. I asked him the question I had to ask.

And he says in his heart… he knows.

“Yeah, I definitely know. This is kind of a no brainer for me. I really do want that closure.” Aki pauses, looks at the ground, and I realize he is going to someplace he has never gone before publicly.

“I just want to be able to look him in the eye and say “I forgive you.”

If stories like this matter to you—if you believe forgotten cases deserve another look—25 Frozen, 1 Thawed takes you inside real cold cases across the Midwest and the people still searching for answers.

25 Frozen, 1 Thawed

I pulled into Gridley, Illinois as the sun set, looking for a quick bite for dinner. In a town of 1,400, with 1 stoplight, dinner would have to wait. Next to the stoplight was the town library, where I had been invited to speak about my new book 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed highlighting cold cases in the Midwest.

One of the cases I profiled from the book was a chapter titled “A Twin Always Knows.” It detailed the murder of real estate agent Sherry Lewis in Decatur, Illinois in 1994. Her twin sister is Terry. The two were incredibly close, and spoke numerous times each day. When Terry could not reach Sherry on that awful day, she sensed something was wrong. Sherry’s body was found later that day on the kitchen floor of a house she had been showing to a prospective buyer.

The case went cold, and 30 years later I was standing in Gridley telling people to keep it alive, when a woman in the back of the room stood up and raised her hand.

“Yes ma’am,” I asked.

“Hi,” she said in a quiet voice. “I just wanted to thank you for coming and keeping Sherry’s story alive.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

When I finished speaking, I signed books for the crowd. The last woman in line was the lady with the quiet voice.

“Thank you for coming,” I told her as I grabbed a book. “Who do I make this out to?”

“Just make it out to me,” she said.

We looked at each other, and it appeared she had been crying.

“My name is Terry..........”

If you’re drawn to real cases, unanswered questions, and the relentless pursuit of truth, 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed belongs on your shelf.

Pictured here: Jack Fredrickson, Mike Black, Dave Case, and J. Michael Major — four voices in the crime and mystery world whose paths have crossed over the years.

Moments like this offer a glimpse into the creative community behind the stories — the shared events, conversations, and collaborations that shape the genre long before books reach readers’ hands.

We’re always grateful when authors share pieces of that history with us.

Crime writers Jack Fredrickson, Mike Black, Dave Case, and J. Michael Major, photographed in 2015.

Learn more about Jack Fredrickson, the acclaimed crime novelist behind the Dek Elstrom mystery series and the upcoming Genius release The Big Touch.

Browse titles from Dave Case, whose crime writing blends real-world investigation with compelling narrative suspense.

Explore Where Legends Lie by Michael A. Black — a gripping and lyrical exploration of life, identity, and the stories that shape us. Elegantly written and deeply human, this novel invites readers into a world where legend and truth blur in unforgettable ways.

Coming May 7, 2026: Specters in the Gallery, a single-author collection from J. Michael Major that blends mystery, crime, horror, and dark fantasy across eighteen compelling stories — most previously published in magazines and anthologies.

Mark your calendar and stay tuned for more details from Genius Book Publishing.

This true-crime account begins inside a Missouri law firm — and unfolds into a chain of deaths, explosions, and unanswered questions that investigators couldn’t ignore.

“IT’S ALMOST LIKE A JOHN GRISHAM NOVEL”

The shingle on the law firm door says “Boggs, Avellino, Lach & Boggs.” They have had to change the sign a few times.

The Clayton, Missouri law firm, just outside of St. Louis was known as Boggs, Boggs and Bates back then. One of their attorneys, a likable 57-year-old man named Ernie Brasier, was working late that night on a computer in former attorney Dan Bennet’s office, one door down from his own. A building janitor, making his nightly rounds at 7 p.m., found Brasier laying on the floor, unconscious.

Beth Boggs, the managing partner of the firm, along with her husband Darin Boggs, had the unenviable task of ringing the doorbell within the hour at the Brasier home and telling his wife Pat that her husband of nearly 30 years had had a heart attack. He was dead. But then something strange happened. An autopsy later that night discovered a small tiny hole above Brasiers’ left ear. And inside that hole was a bullet that was in Brasier’s brain. Before 10:30 p.m. that night, police announced they had a murder on their hands.

Remember Dan Bennett? In September 2007, the 38 year old Bennett was found dead in his apartment, apparently of heart disease. Just weeks before Brasier was murdered, Bennett quit his job at this same law firm, divorced his wife, and fled the country, heading to Central America to open a bar. He told his coworkers he was burned out.

A major mid-life crisis. Bennett was supposed to return to the law firm, but he never showed.

Flash forward a year later, to August 2008. 51 year old Vincent Venker, another attorney at Boggs, Boggs and Bates, dies of a heart issue. His wife Lisa tells the St. Louis Post Dispatch that “there is something crazy going on at that law firm.”

Two years go by, and in October 2010 two pipe bombs explode at a home in south St. Louis. There are no injuries, but windows are shattered. Turns out the home is that of Beth and Darin Boggs. They tell police they believe the bombs were planted by their third partner, Mark Bates. Just over a year later, Wade Thomas, who left the law firm in 2008, dies of cardiac arrest. He was only 39 years old.

It was no longer just “something crazy going on at that law firm.” Brasiers’ wife now told the newspaper “It is almost like a John Grisham novel.”

As the detectives kept digging, and interviewing everyone at the firm, the elephant was in the room: Was the murderer working among them? After all, who else has access to a secured building after hours, heads to the law firm, and kills an insurance attorney?

And then came the oddest clue....

Explore the full case inside 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed — where cold cases and shocking turns collide.

Whether you’re discovering author Bob Cyphers ahead of upcoming releases, or simply drawn to the cases that refuse to fade with time, this short feature pulls readers into one of the most haunting unsolved murders in Illinois State University history.

What Happened at Delta Zeta? revisits the 1975 killing of Carol Rofstad — a crime marked not only by its brutality, but by the chilling silence that followed. It’s a story that lingers… not just because of the unanswered questions, but because of what was never memorialized, never publicly mourned, and never resolved.

WHAT HAPPENED AT DELTA ZETA?

A new apartment complex sits at 602 S. Fell Avenue in Normal, Illinois. Featuring some 60 rooms, it is just a short walk to campus for students at Illinois State University. You watch the hustle and bustle of the young people passing by, and you wonder.

Do they know?

Around 8:45 p.m. on December 22, 1975, Carol was seen walking near the intersection of Fell and Irving Street, just minutes from home. Around 10 p.m., two men, described as being in their young 20s, one seen holding some sort of large club, were spotted near the area.

Somewhere in between those sightings, in the front yard of her Delta Zeta sorority, Carol Rofstad met her murderer. And incredibly, the clock ticked. And ticked. And kept ticking. It was now noon on December 23. A passerby walked by the sorority house and saw someone laying on the ground. As they walked closer, they heard her moaning. It was Carol’s unconscious body, barely clinging to life, frostbite setting in from the freezing cold, 12 hours after medical examiners believed she was beaten.

It was the fourth time in a year and a half that a woman had been attacked on the same block, in front of the same sorority house. Police cars flooded the scene and the campus. With Christmas Eve celebrations just a day away, a small tight-knit community was now dealing with horror. The investigation then uncovered three women who were attacked and raped in Normal before Carol. They had never reported their crimes, but did after Carol’s death, hoping to help investigators.

And then police had a call for another woman attacked. The address was a familiar one. 602 S. Fell Avenue.

There is nothing on the Illinois State campus remembering Carol. No plant. No tree. No picture. In fact, the University never acknowledged her death. When students returned to class after winter break, there was no announcement of any kind. Today, the Carol Rofstad murder is the longest unsolved murder case in the history of Normal, Illinois. And as students make their way to the new housing complex at 602 S. Fell Avenue, the Delta Zeta sorority is still going strong. They have moved a mile up the street.

And you wonder. Do they know?

To read more of Bob Cyphers’ true crime storytelling, his book 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed is available now — a chilling collection of cases that remain etched in the communities they left behind.

Learn more or purchase your copy here: 25 Frozen, 1 Thawed

Officer Involved Shootings 101

One of my responsibilities as a homicide detective was investigating officer-involved shootings and use-of-force related deaths. The role of the investigator is not to justify a shooting, but to collect facts, statements, and video evidence related to the incident and submit that information to a legal entity that can determine whether a shooting was legally justified or not. The investigations I conducted focused solely on potential criminal charges related to a shooting, not policy or administrative violations. I’ll discuss that distinction at the end of this writing.

The most important factor to consider in an officer-involved shooting is what the involved officer perceived at the time force was used. A U.S. Supreme Court decision, Graham v. Connor (1989), provides the legal framework used to determine the legality of a shooting. Officials consider the severity of the crime committed by the person against whom force was used. They also evaluate whether the officer had a reasonable belief that the subject posed an immediate threat of death or serious physical injury. I emphasize “immediate” because the actions must be occurring at the time force is used, not something that could happen or might happen. Another factor considered is whether the subject was actively resisting or attempting to evade arrest. The courts have been very clear that an officer’s actions must be judged based on the moment force was used, not with “20/20 hindsight.”

The investigator must interview the officer who used force to understand what the officer knew prior to the incident, what occurred during the incident, and what the officer ultimately perceived as a threat at the moment force was used. During the interview, the officer will discuss their training and experiences that contributed to their decision-making. If assigned to a specialized unit, they may also explain additional firearms training and prior incidents they learned from.

After the involved officer has provided a thorough account of their actions, the investigator may present additional information uncovered during the investigation, including video surveillance or body-worn camera footage. It is important to remember that just because something is captured on video does not mean the officer saw it or was aware of it at the time. Again, the courts have made it clear that decisions made in split seconds cannot be judged with “20/20 hindsight.”

As an investigator, I reviewed numerous officer-involved shooting videos. I watched the actions of every officer frame by frame, analyzing exactly what they were doing. I examined the precise moment an officer’s firearm discharged and the subject’s actions at and just prior to that moment. I compared the subject’s actions to the officer’s responses and documented how officers reacted in real time. I spent hours and often days reviewing video, officer statements, civilian statements, radio traffic, and even text messages exchanged between police vehicles to produce an accurate and thorough report. I also compared trajectory measurements taken at the scene with autopsy findings and wound trajectories documented by the medical examiner.

In Maricopa County, investigators had 90 days to submit officer-involved shooting investigation findings unless the county attorney’s office requested it sooner. When we submitted a case, we provided large binders containing all relevant reports and documentation. In addition, we presented a PowerPoint presentation outlining the facts, including video footage, video stills, scene photographs, and any other pertinent evidence. The county attorneys would then deliberate as part of the Critical Incident Review Board and determine whether the shooting was legally justified.

If the shooting was deemed not legally justified, the officer could be charged criminally, and the case would typically proceed to a preliminary hearing.

A preliminary hearing is essentially a mini-trial. The state presents witnesses to a judge to support its claim that the officer acted criminally. The defense is not permitted to call its own witnesses, but defense counsel may question the state’s witnesses and present legal arguments on the officer’s behalf. This differs from a grand jury proceeding, where the state presents its case to a panel of citizens who decide whether charges should be issued. In a grand jury, the defense is not present and cannot question witnesses or make statements.

I have testified in a preliminary hearing involving an officer-involved shooting that was considered questionable and referred by the county attorney for criminal charges. I spent three days on the witness stand answering questions from both the prosecution and the defense. The questions focused on my investigation, including witness statements, video analysis, and expert testimony regarding the physiological effects officers experience during unpredictable and violent encounters. After several days of deliberation, the judge dismissed the case, finding that the officer reasonably believed an immediate threat existed at the time force was used. Criminal charges were dropped, and the case was dismissed.

As I mentioned earlier, being exonerated criminally does not shield an officer from policy or administrative consequences. In the incident referenced above, the officer was ultimately terminated after the department concluded that department policy had been violated. That determination resulted from a separate administrative investigation focused solely on policy compliance. In short, an officer can violate department policy and still not be criminally liable for a shooting.

I’m not writing this to change anyone’s mind. As a society, we are often emotionally driven, and once we form an opinion, we tend to cling to it regardless of additional facts or differing perspectives. All I can offer is insight into what goes into a real officer-involved shooting investigation beyond simply watching a video and confirming a preconceived conclusion. Most facts surrounding a shooting are never immediately made public, and when they are, it’s often months or years later, after public attention has shifted elsewhere. In the court of public opinion, what is said in the first 48 hours is usually what sticks. That isn’t necessarily the truth, it’s just what we’re told.

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Some writers follow the headlines. Marshall Terrill follows the people behind them.

For more than three decades, Marshall has been telling lives with depth, detail, and perspective — from icons like Steve McQueen, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Billy Graham, and Pete Maravich to lesser-told stories that still shape culture and memory.

What stands out in his work isn’t just what he writes about, but how he writes it: with meticulous research, respect for complexity, and an eye for the human story beneath the surface. Whether unpacking the legacy of a Hollywood legend or bringing overlooked histories into focus, he approaches narrative as a way to understand who we are and how we remember.

You might already know Marshall from his collaborations on films and documentaries about the lives he’s chronicled, including feature projects borne from his biographies.

His latest work with Genius — including Jay Sebring: Cutting to the Truth — reflects that same commitment: letting primary voices be heard and reclaiming stories that have too often been shaped by rumor or shorthand.

If you’re curious to explore his books and learn more about his approach to storytelling, you can find his author page here:

👉 https://geniusbookpublishing.com/pages/marshall-terrill

As with every author we introduce, the goal isn’t to tell you what to think — it’s to invite you into a voice worth listening to.