It took nearly 23 years to identify Fred Laster’s body and the man detectives believe killed him, but officials hope this case will be a catalyst that changes police policy.
When Fred’s siblings reported him missing more than two decades ago, the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office never informed the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.
Fred was 16 when he was last seen in Jacksonville in June 1994. One of his sisters told police he was last seen with his youth pastor, Ronnie Leon Hyde. There is no record of officers contacting Hyde back then, according to police reports, but nearly 23 years later, on Tuesday, investigators swarmed his home and arrested him for murder.
Since 1994, detectives at the Columbia County
WILMINGTON — Take a walk within the Wilmington Police headquarters, down a small hallway and through a single glass door, and you enter a space dedicated to serving the community in real time.
The Wilmington Police Department’s “STING” Center is now in operation and helping solve crimes across the city. The STING (Situational Tactics and Intelligence Nexus Group) Center, located at police headquarters on Bess Street, has been in operation since the start of 2017, according to STING Center Director Malcolm Phelps.
The STING Center has been a year-and a-half in the making — from idea, to funding approval, to developing the space and staffing the center, Phelps said. The police department secured funding with approval from the City of Wilmington in the amount of $228,640 in federal forfeiture and drug seizure funds in May 2015. Students with
SUNBURY — The disappearance and presumed murder of Barbara Elizabeth Miller has stumped investigators for more than 25 years.
Investigators early on identified a person of interest, but without a body and just circumstantial evidence, prosecutors doubted they could obtain a conviction, so the case remains unsolved.
Retired Sunbury Sgt. Degg Stark, who is now a Northumberland County detective, said investigators did everything physically and forensically possible to try to solve the case when Miller disappeared.
“We explored all leads,” he said Friday. “We don’t believe we overlooked anything.”
There are more than 600 pages of transcribed interviews, he said.
Saying that, Stark it is always willing to have fresh eyes look at a cold case.
That’s the reason Timothy S. Miller, the new Sunbury administrative police chief, said he wants a crack at solving
Currently, upwards of forty thousand people in America are dead and unaccounted for. These murder, suicide, and accident victims, separated from their names, are being adopted by the bizarre online world of amateur sleuths. It’s DIY CSI, solving cold cases from the comfort of your living room…
In an “absorbing look at a very odd corner of our world” (The Seattle Times), The Skeleton Crew: How Amateur Sleuths Are Solving America’s Coldest Cases provides an entree into the gritty and tumultuous world of Sherlock Holmes–wannabes who race to beat out law enforcement—and one another—at matching missing persons with unidentified remains. These web sleuths pore over facial reconstructions (a sort of Facebook for the dead) and other online clues as they vie to solve cold cases and tally up personal scorecards of dead bodies.
There is “no better guide for navigating this multifaceted world than Deborah Halber’s book” (Psychology Today), and The Skeleton Crew probes the macabre underside of the Internet and how even the most ordinary citizen with a laptop and a knack for puzzles can reinvent herself as a web sleuth. “Engaging and artful” (Los Angeles Times Review of Books), this witty and insightful look at the fleeting nature of identity is “brilliant” (The Wall Street Journal).
Getting an arrest is just one part of the crime-solving story
New Plymouth CIB Detective Sergeant Mike Aro talks about police processes when major crime takes place.
Police are called on 2000 times a day to respond to all sorts of crime. Deena Coster discovers how important an early result can be to getting violent criminals off the streets.
A rushed, frantic call is made to police. There’s a man with a gun. He’s threatening a shopkeeper and wants money. Now.
He’s made a move and rolled the dice, motivated by an urgent need for whatever is driving his criminality.
For Todd Matthews, it all started with a ghost story shared among teenagers.
It was Halloween night 1987. A 17-year-old Matthews listened as friends tried to spook each other with scary tales — but one story told was true.
Lori Riddle, the woman who would become Matthews’ wife within a year, spoke of the dead body her father stumbled upon in Scott County, Kentucky in the spring of 1968.
“It was a strange story. A Jane Doe,” he said.
Investigators were unable to identify the murdered woman, making her one of the estimated 40,000 nameless people laying dead in the medical examiners’ and coroner’s offices across the country.
“I thought there was one. I couldn’t imagine that there were possibly 40,000,” Matthews, 44, said, recalling his youthful naiveté.
For 30 years the slain woman was known as “Tent Girl” —
Ashutosh Goswami almost got away with killing his aunt after police were left puzzled about the identity of the killer.
Goswami left no clues and his victim was the only witness – or as he thought.
But private eye parrot Heera, nicknamed Hercule, was also in the house at the time and it was up to him to help solve the case.
In one of India’s strangest murder mysteries, victim Neela Sharma’s widower Vijay Sharma read out a list of names to Hercule – including Goswami’s.
Like a true detective, the parrot waited for his time to reveal all and reportedly squawked: “Usne maara, usne maara” – ‘He’s the killer, he’s the killer.’
The Connoisseurs of Murder
The great hall was filled with the lingering aroma of pork and mallard duck sausage as black-vested waiters appeared, shouldering cups of vanilla bean blancmange. Connoisseurs sat at tables between the hearths under glittering eighteenth-century chandeliers, chatting amiably in several languages. When the coffee arrived, a fine Colombian supremo steaming in its pots, the image of the corpse of a young man of uncommon beauty, lying on his back, materialized in the center of the room.
A gray winter light slanted into the hall, as the midday sun had sailed beyond the city, and the image on the large screen was crisp. The young man’s blond locks were matted in a corona of dried blood, his sculpted cheekbones reduced to a pulp. The police photograph had been taken at night in