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The story starts on a quiet May evening in 1991 and never really stops echoing. A nine-year-old sets out to sell costume jewelry in a tiny Arkansas town where people wave from porches and the fields hold the day’s last light. By week’s end, she’s found in a ditch four miles away, and everything residents believe about safety, trust, and “being home before dark” begins to crack.
We walk you through what happened and what didn’t: kids who saw a light-blue car and a man with long hair; a grocery stop that raised more questions than it answered; and a case that leaned on one hair in a suspect’s car—then fell apart when the wrong hairs were sent to the FBI. The ex-wife who first pointed to him never made it to the stand, and without cross-examination, her statement vanished. With no solid DNA and water erasing traces, the courtroom math never added up. Along the way, we unpack how small agencies in 1991 worked without homicide units, how early DNA limits changed everything, and why eyewitness memory—especially from children—can both illuminate and mislead.
This isn’t a tidy true-crime tale. It’s a study in the limits of process, the cost of a single forensic error, and the burden families carry when “closure” is an empty word. We talk candidly about motive theories—from robbery gone cruel to a witness silenced—and why each sits on uncertain ground. We also explore how modern tools, offender registries, and renewed records searches might open doors that stayed shut for decades. If you lived in or around Hickory Ridge back then, your detail—an unfamiliar car, a sudden move, a changed routine—could matter more than you think.
If this episode moves you, share it with someone who grew up in the Delta, hit follow so you don’t miss future deep dives, and leave a review to help others find the show. And if you know something—anything—about that night, call the Arkansas State Police. Let’s try again to turn an open question into an answer.
“Thank you for listening to Things I Want to Know.
You want these stories, and we want to bring them to you — so hit the support link and keep this circus, and the mics, alive.
Then do us a favor and rate and subscribe; it helps the show find more people like you — the ones who like their mysteries real and their storytellers unfiltered.
And if you want to wear a little of this madness, grab some Andrea-approved gear at paulgnewton.com.
We make t
Support the show
Things I Want To Know
Where two stubborn humans poke the darkness with a stick and hope it blinks first. If you know something about a case, report it to the actual police before you come knocking on our door. After that, sure, tell us. We’re already in too deep anyway.
If you enjoy the show, or you just like supporting people who refuse to shut up, grab some merch at PaulGNewton.com. It keeps the lights on and the caffeine flowing.
And when your curiosity needs a breather from all the murder, jump over to my other show, Paul G’s Corner, where history proves that saying it can’t happen here usually means it already did.
Get Bad Ass Merch!
By Paul G Newton4.9
1414 ratings
Send us a text
The story starts on a quiet May evening in 1991 and never really stops echoing. A nine-year-old sets out to sell costume jewelry in a tiny Arkansas town where people wave from porches and the fields hold the day’s last light. By week’s end, she’s found in a ditch four miles away, and everything residents believe about safety, trust, and “being home before dark” begins to crack.
We walk you through what happened and what didn’t: kids who saw a light-blue car and a man with long hair; a grocery stop that raised more questions than it answered; and a case that leaned on one hair in a suspect’s car—then fell apart when the wrong hairs were sent to the FBI. The ex-wife who first pointed to him never made it to the stand, and without cross-examination, her statement vanished. With no solid DNA and water erasing traces, the courtroom math never added up. Along the way, we unpack how small agencies in 1991 worked without homicide units, how early DNA limits changed everything, and why eyewitness memory—especially from children—can both illuminate and mislead.
This isn’t a tidy true-crime tale. It’s a study in the limits of process, the cost of a single forensic error, and the burden families carry when “closure” is an empty word. We talk candidly about motive theories—from robbery gone cruel to a witness silenced—and why each sits on uncertain ground. We also explore how modern tools, offender registries, and renewed records searches might open doors that stayed shut for decades. If you lived in or around Hickory Ridge back then, your detail—an unfamiliar car, a sudden move, a changed routine—could matter more than you think.
If this episode moves you, share it with someone who grew up in the Delta, hit follow so you don’t miss future deep dives, and leave a review to help others find the show. And if you know something—anything—about that night, call the Arkansas State Police. Let’s try again to turn an open question into an answer.
“Thank you for listening to Things I Want to Know.
You want these stories, and we want to bring them to you — so hit the support link and keep this circus, and the mics, alive.
Then do us a favor and rate and subscribe; it helps the show find more people like you — the ones who like their mysteries real and their storytellers unfiltered.
And if you want to wear a little of this madness, grab some Andrea-approved gear at paulgnewton.com.
We make t
Support the show
Things I Want To Know
Where two stubborn humans poke the darkness with a stick and hope it blinks first. If you know something about a case, report it to the actual police before you come knocking on our door. After that, sure, tell us. We’re already in too deep anyway.
If you enjoy the show, or you just like supporting people who refuse to shut up, grab some merch at PaulGNewton.com. It keeps the lights on and the caffeine flowing.
And when your curiosity needs a breather from all the murder, jump over to my other show, Paul G’s Corner, where history proves that saying it can’t happen here usually means it already did.
Get Bad Ass Merch!

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