It was murder, all right.

Anyone who walked into a apartment 12 that winter nights could plainly see that, a brutal,

violent death, lamps overturned, blood soaked into the carpet, smudged on walls, spattered

on the kitchen stove.

I could just see that someone had hurt her terribly.

A local beauty queen battered and beaten, dead.

The week before Christmas, just day short of her 20th birthday.

They had found a condom wrapper in the crime scene.

Her body was disrobed.

There are boyfriends who became suspects in this story, one with blood on his hands.

I don't tell it, I don't tell it, I don't tell it, I don't tell it, I don't tell it.

So scumbag did this to my girlfriend, and I only put in jail for it, and I didn't do it.

But there was also a stranger who lived nearby, one with a history of violence against women.

So who did it?

Ah, the young detective in charge was sure he knew.

Listen, I promise this crime scene, that's my primary function in this apartment, is to collect

evidence, interpret crime scene, and I'm good at it.

Our latest podcast takes us to a small town, where murder is rare, and intense media coverage

is unheard of.

This case probably had more statewide publicity than any criminal case in many, many years

perhaps ever in Arkansas.

It's a story of what happens when the awesome power of the state is misdirected, when theory

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