A South African Forensic Files fan tweeted last week to say he couldn’t watch the show in his country anymore.
CBS Reality, a network that broadcasts in Europe, the Middle East, and Africa, had stopped airing the shows in South Africa.
Deprived of Forensic Files?Now there’s a crime.
I can relate. My access to the show seemed severely limited after I cut the cord about a year ago.
Along with the monthly cable bill of $125.51 to $172.59 (depending on whatever deal Time Warner was offering or yanking away), I also had to say farewell to the HLN TV network — the Forensic Files mother lode.
HLN has daily Forensic Files marathons anywhere from 4 to 12 hours long.
No. 1: HLN is a jackpot for Forensic Files watchers
If you have basic cable in the U.S., chances are you can bask in all the chromatography and rifling impressions patterns you like via HLN’s generous schedule of back-to back Forensic Files. I miss HLN.
Fortunately, there are also many other sources of the show.
Update:Forensic Files exited Netflix on Jan. 1, 2022.
But you can still stream episodes on Pluto, Discovery +, HBO MAX, Hulu, Amazon Prime, and Tubi.
You can also find many of the episodes on the internet. Just enter “Forensic Files” and the name of the episode or even just the name of the perpetrator in a browser window, and the right one should materialize.
The producers made a deal to distribute the show on YouTube via a company called FilmRise. So if you see “FilmRise,” you’re watching a legally procured episode.
No. 3: Logo means the online episode wasn’t boot-legged
I’m not sure how the picture quality on YouTube rates next to what you see on TV or a streaming service, but I’m happy with it.
Of course, you’ll need a broadband or otherwise expensive internet subscription to watch online. I use Spectrum, which used to be Time Warner Cable. I have nothing nice to say about either of them. Right now, I’m paying $54.88 a month.
The least expensive way to enjoy Forensic Files is via an over-the-air TV station — the kind you get for free, no cable subscription required.
An over-the-air TV station called Escape (Channel No. 33-4 in New York and available in other cities) broadcasts a couple Forensic Files episodes a day.
All you need is an antenna. I use a $29.99 RCA digital one.
It gives pretty much crystal clear reception on Escape and all the other free stations, including the major networks. It was a surprise.
No. 4: My RCA antenna (Best Buy)
I was expecting the same kind of static and the other types of interference from the old days of rabbit ears.
Most of my quest for Forensic Files has taken place in NYC. If anyone has advice or experience to share about finding Forensic Files elsewhere or via another route, please leave a reader comment and share the wealth.
Someone in the world is sure to appreciate any clues you have to offer.
This Oklahoma Tale Is No Musical
(“Sunday School Ambush,” Forensic Files)
Who can resist a story about a Sunday School teacher gone homicidal?
And we’re not talking about someone who suffers from psychosis and snaps one day.
Brenda Andrew was a sane, high-functioning mother of two who nonetheless formulated at least two plots to murder her husband, Rob Andrew.
Rob, Tricity, Parker, and Brenda Andrew
Try, try again. The first was staged in such a way that it could have killed not just him but also any number of incidental motorists and pedestrians.
Fortunately, that attempt on Rob Andrew’s life failed. But her second try succeeded. She devised both murder plans with the help of boyfriend and fellow Sunday School teacher James Pavatt.
The case is intriguing because it involves two killers who most certainly believed in God.
Even people who doubt the existence of a divine entity worry a little bit that someone is up there watching when they throw a recyclable container into the regular garbage.
Forging their way. Do avid worshippers like Brenda and James persuade themselves that the intended victim is so horrible that God has deputized them to banish him from this earth?
Or maybe they think God is distracted by March Madness or The Bachelor: After the Final Rose while they’re practicing the victim’s signature for the insurance paperwork.
Whatever the case, here’s a recap of the episode along with an epilogue and additional intelligence culled from online sources:
The pretty, petite Brenda Evers was born in 1963 and grew up in a conservative family in Enid, Oklahoma, where she enrolled in baton-twirling class, was known for being quiet, and “always buttoned her clothes all the way up,” according to a former classmate interviewed by Ken Raymond for The Oklahoman.
Likable victim. It’s not clear what kind of work she did after high school, but she married before turning 21, to Rob Andrew, a tall young man who would go on to snag a high-paying job with Jordan Advertising, which counts Oklahoma State University and energy giant OneOK among its clients.
Rob sounded like a sweet guy. As another Oklahoman story by Ken Raymond noted:
No one would’ve described Rob Andrew as crazy, although he did do fun things like bringing slushes to everyone at work because he’d decided July 11 should be 7-Eleven day. Or like naming his daughter Tricity because if she ever ran for public office, her slogan could be “Elect Tricity.”
He also was a church deacon and did missionary work in South America. At the time of the murder, the couple had a son, Parker, 7, as well as Tricity, 11. Rob, 39, remained smitten with Brenda, 38, even as she grew more dissatisfied with him.
Perhaps she felt resentful about hitching up at such a young age or about having parents who made sure she always conformed. At some point after marrying Rob, Brenda began to wear alluring clothing. And she embarked on a series of affairs.
She and Rob separated and got back together at least once during this time.
Rob was an optimist and didn’t believe in divorce.
Still, the abuse Brenda dished out must have tested his forgiving nature. “Sunday School Ambush,” the Forensic Files episode about the case, plays a rehearsed, insulting message that Brenda left on Rob’s answering machine during their troubled relationship. She called him a “half dad.”
By 2001, Brenda had taken up with Pavatt, who served as a deacon as well as a Sunday School teacher at the North Pointe Baptist Church. The two lovebirds went on a vacation to Mexico along with Brenda’s kids.
Sign here. The church gently suggested that the home-wrecking Prudential salesman and the erring wife step away from their teaching posts.
But at some point before everything blew up, Rob had trusted Pavatt enough to purchase from him an $800,000 life insurance policy with Brenda named as the beneficiary.
Brenda and Pavatt hoped to collect that payout via a plot so clichéed it belongs in a made-for-TV movie. They cut the brakelines of Rob’s car and arranged for a fake “your wife has been in an accident” call summoning him to the hospital immediately.
But Rob realized right away that someone had tampered with his Nissan, and he reported the entire incident to the authorities. Forensic Files played the recording of Rob telling police he thought a murder plot was afoot. It’s not clear whether authorities did any kind of investigation as a result.
Pilot-light ploy. On her next try, Brenda lured Rob, from whom she was then separated, into the garage of their Oklahoma City house when he came to pick up their kids for a visit on November 20, 2001.
She asked him to relight the furnace. When he knelt down to do so, Pavatt sneaked up and shot him in the abdomen with a 16-gauge shotgun. According to Forensic Files, Rob grabbed a bag of metal cans from the garage floor to shield himself before Brenda fired a second, fatal bullet.
Then, more cliché. She had Pavatt shoot her in the proverbial fleshy part of a limb (an arm in this case) to make it look as though a couple of robbers had attacked both Andrews.
Scene of the crime
To ensure no one saw him dashing from the crime scene, Pavatt hid out in the house of the Andrews’ neighbors, the Gigstads, for a couple days. They were out of town and Judy Gigstad had given Brenda their spare key for safekeeping.
Brenda called 911 and reported that two armed robbers wearing masks shot Rob and her.
The Forensic Files episodes suggests that Brenda’s voice sounds too calm on the 911 tape to be genuine. I don’t necessarily agree with that, because other episodes have pegged 911 calls as suspicious because the voice is overdramatic.
Fugitives. Regardless, investigators got a strong hint when Brenda and Pavatt gathered up Tricity and Parker and fled to Mexico right around the time of Rob’s funeral.
Authorities distributed Wanted posters with the couple’s pictures, and they were caught a few months later as they tried to cross the border into Texas.
Pavatt’s defense lawyer subsequently pointed out that investigators had no DNA or fingerprints, only circumstantial evidence.
But there was plenty of it. First off, everyone knew about the extramarital affair.
Pre-Airbnb. And Gigstad and her husband reported signs that someone had been in their house during their absence. There was a spent shell casing in the bedroom and a damaged shoe rack hidden under a bed.
Police theorized that Pavatt had accidentally stepped on the shoe rack and then left behind the shell casing when the Gigstads’ son stopped in to collect their mail; Pavatt was ready to shoot him if confronted. Fortunately, the son didn’t see him, and departed unharmed.
There was lots more. Brenda’s wound appeared to have come from a gun held just inches away from her arm, which conflicted with the story she gave police.
A handwriting expert determined that Rob’s signature had been forged on insurance papers that renamed Brenda as beneficiary.
Doctored docs. In later years, Rob had begun signing his name with an ichthus — the Christian fish symbol — as a flourish. It was missing from the papers that Pavatt claimed as genuine.
(On the valid documents, Rob had changed the beneficiary designation to Tricity and Parker.)
James Pavatt in custody. One of his ex-wives testified that he would do anything for love
The 2004 trials each ended with Brenda and Pavatt found guilty of first-degree murder and given a death sentence. Forensic Files shows them shuffling around in chains and orange uniforms.
It was a sad sight to behold but also a little refreshing to see that upper middle class defendants can’t always buy their way out of justice.
Epilogue to date. So, where are they today?
Brenda hasn’t made a lot of waves inside the Mabel Bass Correctional Facility in McLoud, Oklahoma. As of this writing, she’s on death row, with no execution date specified.
Pavatt has created some rumblings from his cell in Oklahoma State Penitentiary in McAlester — the same prison that spurred headlines by botching the 2014 execution of Clayton Lockett.
Mike Arnett, Pavatt’s attorney, has campaigned to have the prison’s three-drug execution procedure declared cruel and unusual punishment.
Oklahoma resumed executions in June 2015, when the state put to death child murderer Charles Frederick Warner.
In an odd turn, an accused killer named Zjaiton Tyrone Wood confessed to the shooting of Rob Andrew.
Arnett contends Pavatt didn’t receive a fair trial, in part because jurors didn’t see Wood’s confession letter.
No appointment. But Wood’s letter was no bombshell. It contained information about the crime that was already known to the public, and it failed to impress a judge.
Still, Pavatt’s sentence was commuted to life.
No such luck for Brenda, but the last time an attractive white woman was facing the execution chamber — two decades ago — it caused a national uproar, with Jerry Falwell, Pat Buchanan, and other public figures arguing against carrying out Karla Faye Tucker’s death sentence. After stating that he had thought and prayed about it, then-Texas Governor George W. Bush refused to commute Tucker’s death sentence, and it was carried out on February 3, 1998.
Brenda Andrew in a circa 2013 photo.
I have a feeling Brenda will be luckier. You’ll hear plenty about it via media outlets if the court sets an execution date for her.
Let’s hope the powers that be, divine or secular, settle on the most appropriate punishment for the murder of Rob Andrew, a nice man gone too soon.
That’s all for this post. Until next week, cheers. — RR
Epilogues for the Cast
(“Pinned by the Evidence,” Forensic Files)
After doing some elementary research on California self-defense laws, I’m starting to understand how two juries found David Genzler guilty of charges related to his struggle with Dusty Harless.
Dusty Harless was only 5-foot-8 but an incredible athlete
Last week’s post told the story of how Genzler ended up in jail for his actions during a 1996 street fight in San Diego that was doubtlessly initiated by Harless.
Two on one. Offended that Genzler offered his girlfriend, Sky Flanders, a ride and called her “baby” — or some other slightly inappropriate term — the former college wrestling champion straightened out the non-issue by pinning him to the ground.
Scott Davis, a Harless associate, joined the fray by kicking Genzler, who pulled a knife from his pocket and stabbed Harless.
During the first trial, blood evidence seemed to support the theory that Harless and Genzler, both 25 years old, were face to face when the knife wound happened, although the defense maintained Harless had Genzler pinned face to the ground.
The law gives the right to defend yourself when you reasonably believe you’re in “imminent danger of being killed, hurt, or molested, believe immediate force is necessary, and use no more force than necessary.”
Sharp outcome. I tend to think anyone violent enough to pin a stranger to the ground over a minor provocation is also dangerous enough to kill someone whether intentionally or not.
But that’s me. (I’m also the person who still stands far from the edges of subway platforms because a mentally ill man pushed a woman onto the tracks in 1985.)
California state law — and unwritten guy code — probably assumes no one is likely to die from a weaponless street fight, hence pulling out a knife during such a struggle constitutes more force than necessary.
Face to face, it’s more likely Genzler intended to inflict a deadly wound, which explains the second-degree murder conviction at the first trial.
Cathy Harless after her son’s death
Newer laws. The jury at the second trial believed Genzler’s contention that Harless had him pinned face to the ground, meaning Genzler reached backward with his knife without necessarily intending to hit a major artery, hence the manslaughter conviction.
Either way, Genzler might have fared better under the Stand Your Ground laws that states started passing in 2005. They specify that as long as the victim didn’t make the first strike, he doesn’t necessarily have to retreat or run away when he feels threatened.
A defense lawyer today could make a case that brandishing a knife is simply standing your ground.
Fortunately, manslaughter verdict notwithstanding, the second judge sentenced Genzler to time served and set him free.
Legal recourse. Still, Genzler, a finance student who had no criminal history prior to the Harless tragedy, had to spend at least three years in prison, presumably with hardened criminals.
Genzler did get some satisfaction in the matter when he sued Deputy District Attorney Peter Longanbach for prosecutorial misconduct related to false testimony from Sky Flanders. (It’s not clear whether it applied to both trials or just the first one.)
According to the suit, the night of the Harless stabbing, Flanders told police that Harless “flip[ped] Genzler to the ground, and Genzler stabbed Harless while Harless held Genzler on the ground.” She also admitted to police that Harless had engaged in other street fights.
After meeting with Longanbach and his investigator, Jeffrey O’Brien, however, Flanders changed her story. She said she “remembered little of the actual fight.” She also failed to repeat her earlier statement that Harless had a history of fighting both on and off the wrestling mat.
Alternate facts. She also stated that she thought Davis had pulled Genzler off Harless after the stabbing — when, in fact, Genzler was still beneath Harless.
The amount of the settlement, reached in 2006, wasn’t disclosed.
A bit more consolation for Genzler: Longanbach’s law license was suspended for two years.
The Forensic Files episode mentioned Genzler himself was considering a career as a lawyer. I did a little poking around to find out whether that happened or to at least discover some kind of epilogue for him.
There wasn’t any confirmation on whether or not he went to law school, but he did complete his finance degree by 2006.
No information came up about him for the last decade or so. I didn’t look very hard because he probably prefers to not be found.
Sky Flanders during her appearance on Forensic Files
Sky Flanders appears to be alive and well and to have a son. She was never prosecuted for perjury relating to the legal actions against Genzler.
Flanders has stated that she prefers not to talk about the tragedy.
Car accident. After the trial, Dusty’s mother, Cathy Harless, who appeared in “Pinned by the Evidence,” moved to Butte, Montana, and then to San Diego.
She worked as a caretaker for ranch owners’ properties and also had two dogs and two horses of her own.
Her relationship with Sky Flanders ultimately turned sour. A 2006 story in the San Diego Union-Tribune contained the following quote from Cathy Harless:
“I consider [Flanders] really part of the problem, and I think she should be so ashamed for ruining Pete Longanbach’s life and career,” she said. “It turned from a trial about murder into a trial about lawyer misconduct.”
Sadly, Cathy Harless died at age 63 when a drunk driver hit her pickup truck in Alpine, California, in 2010. Two daughters survived her.
That’s all for this post. Until next week, cheers. — RR
Alcohol, Adrenaline, a Knife
(“Pinned by the Evidence,” Forensic Files)
The last two posts told of murders that were horrible, but made some sense just the same. Howard Elkins killed his pregnant girlfriend because she threatened his marriage and social standing.
Dusty Harless wrestled for Palomar College
Sharee Miller enticed her boyfriend to shoot her husband because she wanted all his assets.
XY doings. For Dustin “Dusty” Harless, on the other hand, there were no high stakes. He overreacted to a comment. The ensuing fight caused the end of his own life and the incarceration of another man for years.
Harless’ actions on April 18, 1996 were senseless, but that’s part of what makes them interesting.
The crime and its immediate aftermath demonstrate how an unwritten code on fair parameters for a man-on-man fight — no matter how unwarranted — can spill over into legal judgment.
Rain of terror. Here’s a recap of the Forensic Files episode about the case, “Pinned by the Evidence,” along with some extra information from internet research:
A couple consisting of Sky Flanders and surfboard salesman boyfriend Dusty Harless, age 25, exited a San Diego bar on a rainy night in 1996. She ran ahead of him to get under an awning.
Harless “tried to protect fiancée from attacker’s lewd comments”
Motorist David Genzler, also 25, spotted her and offered a ride. Although the episode never gives a definitive account of his verbiage, it probably fell somewhere between “Ma’am, do you need a ride?” and “Climb in, baby.”
She declined, citing the existence of a boyfriend.
Appalled to learn that a man had spoken to his girlfriend while she was standing alone, the legally intoxicated Harless walked to the passenger side of Genzler’s car to confront him.
The pin man. Twelve minutes later, Harless lay bleeding from a 4-inch knife wound to his aorta. Genzler fled the scene. So did another motorist, Scott Davis, a Naval officer and bouncer who knew and apparently liked Harless enough to get out of his car to help him grapple with Genzler.
The part I forgot to mention is that Harless was a former AAU national wrestling champion who had a huge advantage over the eyeglass-wearing Genzler.
A chess club match was probably the closest the slender San Diego State University finance student ever got to beating anybody.
But Genzler was carrying a knife and he stabbed Harless during their struggle. Flanders made note of his license plate number, and police traced it to Genzler’s mother. He then turned himself in.
Blood evidence. Genzler said that Harless dragged him out of his car and pinned him so that he was facing the ground. Genzler defended himself, he said, by grabbing the knife from his pocket, reaching backward, and blindly trying to hit Harless in the shoulder.
But investigators found Harless’ blood on the front of Genzler’s shirt. That, according to the prosecution, proved the two were face to face when the knife pierced Harless’ body — and that Genzler intended to deliver a fatal wound.
David Genzler in court
Whichever the real scenario, it still sounds as though Genzler did nothing illegal. I don’t believe he willingly exited his car to confront a riled-up boyfriend in the first place.
Genzler had nothing at stake; the woman at the center of the conflict had already rebuffed him. And no one, except Sky Flanders, had heard the exchange between her and Genzler. It’s not as though she embarrassed Genzler in front of a group of people.
Waves of friends. And if a nationally recognized wrestler is attacking an unwilling opponent, doesn’t that give the latter the right to do anything he can to defend himself?
The jury didn’t think so, and convicted Genzler of second-degree murder. He received 20 years to life, and Forensic Files shows Flanders in cathartic joy upon hearing the verdict.
It’s possible Harless’ popularity in the community ultimately contributed to the guilty verdict. He was outgoing, belonged to a competitive surfing team, and had hundreds of friends. A number of them paddled into the Pacific Ocean to lay commemorative wreaths in his honor.
A post honoring Harless on the Parents of Murdered Children website places all the blame for his death on Genzler:
“…Dustin was on his way home with his girlfriend. Dustin was stabbed by David Genzler in cold blood. David jumped out of his car, hit Dustin in the temple and Dustin fell to the pavement. David jumped on top and stabbed Dustin with a 4″ knife, putting it in all the way to the hilt.”
Flanders reacting to the first guilty verdict
A paid obituary for Harless that appeared in the Montana Standard referred to the killing as “a tragic act of a demented individual.”
Genzler served his sentence in Mule Creek State Prison in Ione, California, until he won a new trial on the basis of having been denied his counsel of choice at the first one. (Sources vary on how much time Genzler served; it was at least three years and possibly as many as six.)
Rhythm to it. This time, Genzler’s attorneys brought in Wrestling Hall of Fame member Ned Blass to refute the most damning forensic evidence against him: Harless’ blood on the front of Genzler’s shirt.
Blass showed a common wrestling hold that would have forced Genzler to face the pavement before he stabbed Harless. The defense team also used forensic animation to show how Genzler might have flipped over right after the stabbing.
An expert testified that, because the aorta spurts at a cadence, it’s possible Harless wasn’t bleeding in the split second before Genzler turned face up.
Also, the defense found witnesses who said Dusty made a habit out of starting physical fights with other men, including one he incited after another man allegedly made an insulting comment to his girlfriend at a bar.
Justice not done. The defense also found discrepancies between the story Flanders gave to police on the night of the accident and the one she offered on the witness stand. In her first account, she admitted that Harless had Genzler on the ground and wouldn’t let him up before the stabbing.
Flanders conceded on camera during her Forensic Files appearance that she wasn’t entirely “truthful” during the first trial because she didn’t want to help the defense lawyers. (She later claimed the prosecutor had coached her to withhold information during the first trial.)
The jury found Genzler guilty of the lesser charge of manslaughter. The judge sentenced him to time served and set him free.
I still think Genzler was railroaded. Another unfair contention was that, because Genzler carried a knife in his pocket, he must have been looking for trouble.
Feckless fight. My brothers own and sometimes carry sporting knives, and they have never gotten into any fights (except the battles we all got into as kids, but we didn’t use weapons).
Harless worked for Innovative Manufacturing Ventures in San Diego
In fact, all of Genzler’s actions to end the fight seem justifiable. Evidence suggested that Harless, on the other hand, enjoyed conflict for conflict’s sake.
In the Genzler case, Harless more than likely defended honor that no one had attacked. He let adrenaline and testosterone coax him into his own demise.
That’s all for this week. For next time, I’ll dig up some research on what does and doesn’t qualify as self-defense under California law as it applies to this case. Until then, cheers. — RR
A Murder Made for Basic Cable (“Web of Seduction,” Forensic Files)
I’m always up for a good Lifetime channel movie.
The real deal: Sharee Miller in court
I know, made-for-TV dramas are formulaic and manipulative. But they’re also highly watchable.
Case in point is Fatal Desire, based on a real-life murder case — as written about in the paperback Fatal Error by Mark Morris — starring Anne Heche as a beguiling young woman who used the internet to prey upon lonely men. She manages to persuade one of them to kill her husband. Eric Roberts plays the poor sap manipulated into a role as trigger man.
Heche and Roberts did a great job and the movie was absorbing, so naturally I went online to find out what the real parties looked like. It turned out Forensic Files had done an episode about the case, “Web of Seduction.”
Anne Heche in Fatal Desire on Lifetime TV
Narrator Peter Thomas said the story “had everything: sex, lies, and a video tape.”
May-December Union. It did, except that I probably should have watched the Forensic Files version before seeing the Lifetime movie. It was a lot easier to buy Anne Heche as an irresistible femme fatale than the real woman who inspired Fatal Desire.
Here are the facts of the actual case, courtesy of the Forensic Files episode “Web of Seduction” plus some internet research.
On Nov. 8, 1999, Bruce Miller’s brother found him dead in the office of B&D Auto Parts, a junkyard Bruce owned in Flint, Michigan.
It looked like a robbery. Someone had taken around $2,000 in cash from the 48-year-old.
Just a few months before, Miller had married a woman, Sharee Kitley, who was around 20 years younger. (Couldn’t he hear the FF theme’s guitar notes in his head?)
Cut to video. Sharee tried to blame her husband’s murder on an ex-boyfriend of hers named Bruce Hutchinson. He melted down during a subsequent polygraph test, but police didn’t find any forensic evidence linking him to the murder.
Detectives got a break a few months later, when a man named Jerry Cassaday, himself a former homicide investigator, committed suicide inside his Kansas City, Missouri, house (which looked like something of a mini-McMansion from the photo).
They found in the trash a videotape of Sharee Miller “dancing seductively.” Forensic Files showed a few seconds of her performance. It looked none-too-sexy to me (not that I was the intended audience).
Virtually true. And as evidenced from a recording of her police interrogation, Sharee’s flat, ungrammatical manner of speaking lacked the feminine charm with which Anne Heche portrayed her. Sharee sounded like a Rust Belt 7-Eleven and gas pumps attendant.
Confronted with the videotape, Sharee said that she had never met Cassaday in person and they had a strictly online relationship. She considered it no big deal for a married person to exchange sexually suggestive material with a stranger in a chat room — “everybody does it.”
Duped: Jerry Cassaday
Police confiscated both Sharee’s and Cassaday’s computers, and got someone from America Online to dig up their instant messages. They discovered that the two had in fact met in person and had real, offline sex.
Compelling lies. And Sharee had apparently made Cassaday believe that Bruce Miller needed to be disposed of. She fabricated a story about how he was involved in organized crime and abused her physically.
Here’s the part that redefined manipulation: She told Cassaday she was pregnant with twins — his — and sent him a picture of a sonogram as proof.
Later on in the relationship, she threw her most-inflammatory lie on the fire: Bruce beat her so badly that she miscarried Cassaday’s twins. She even painted a few bruises on herself and sent Cassaday photographs.
Sharee didn’t sound particularly intelligent in the clips Forensic Files shows, but she managed to fool a veteran homicide detective just the same.
A youngish Sharee Miller, back when 1980s hair was her only crime
Denouement. Investigators read messages between the two discussing a murder plot whereby Sharee would distract Bruce Miller with a phone call while Cassaday shot him. Sharee instructed him to make it look like a robbery.
Thanks to his training as a law officer, Cassaday pulled off the murder without creating much in the way of evidence — until he wrote his own suicide note after realizing he killed an innocent man.
Sharee betrayed Cassaday. Once she had her husband out of the way, she stopped communicating with Cassaday and latched onto a new boyfriend.
Sad note. Cassaday had discovered that the sonogram image Sharee sent him was five years old. (She later claimed she lied about being pregnant with twins to cheer up Cassaday because he was feeling depressed.) Apparently, the prospect of life with him, even with a newly built house, didn’t appeal to her.
“I was so blind and so stupid,” Cassaday wrote before shooting himself. “And so much in love. Little did I know she never meant any of it. She just wanted all her money and no more husband. Sharee was involved and helped set it up. I have all the proof. She will get what’s coming.”
Cassaday was right. After deliberating for two days, a jury found her guilty of conspiracy to commit murder and second-degree murder in Bruce Miller’s death. She got life in prison plus 54 to 81 years.
Second shot. She finagled a release from jail while pending a new trial in 2009. Her attorneys successfully threw into doubt the admissibility of Cassaday’s suicide note.
Nonetheless, a district court reinstated Miller’s convictions in 2012, and back she went to the Michigan Department of Corrections.
As mentioned, if you’re unfamiliar with the case, you’ll want to watch the Forensic Files episode first, then check out what Lifetime did with the story.
