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In the fall of 1995, firefighters in Pleasant Garden, North Carolina, responded to a call about a fire in a suburban neighborhood.
When they got there, they managed to mostly put out the intense flames inside the building, at which point they formed a line and began moving down the first floor hallway, systematically checking the rooms to see if anyone had been left inside.
But before the firefighters reached the end of the hallway, the floor suddenly gave out from underneath them, sending the lead firefighter down into a hidden crawlspace four feet below.
The man was unhurt from the fall, but when he tried to stand up to climb back out again, he noticed that there was something horrifying in that crawlspace with him.
This discovery would send shockwaves through a town that, until that moment, had been best known for its churches and championship Little League baseball teams.
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28-year-old Patricia Kimball had to force herself to smile as she looked out at the laughing group of friends who filled her backyard.
There was no question that the Saturday evening barbecue for her fellow Sunday school teachers and other members of the Elm Street Baptist Church had been a very big success.
It was September 9th 1995 and the early fall air had been warm without being hot, and the clouds passing now and then over the sun, along with the leafy trees that stood around the Kimbell's single-story greenhouse, offered just the right amount of evening shade.
And not that long ago, this happy gathering would have represented everything that Patricia had ever wanted in life and everything she had always loved about her small hometown of Pleasant Garden, North Carolina.
There was her 26-year-old husband with his toothy smile, green eyes, and strong, sturdy build.
And right next to him was Patricia's brother, Ruben, and his wife, Christy.
And just off to Patricia's right, she could see her closest friends laughing and chatting as they began to gather up empty plates and leftovers and take them into the kitchen.
And out of sight, but still within 30 miles of where Patricia was standing.
There was the apartment complex where she worked as a manager, there was the building supply store that her husband owned, and there were the homes of her parents, her in-laws and her cousins.
But ever since Patricia's marriage 17 months earlier, the happiness that Patricia had expected to feel as she assembled these building blocks of a good life husband family church, friends and work had slowly faded.
And in its place was Patricia's growing sense that the future she had imagined when she walked down the aisle to exchange rings with the man she had loved ever since she first laid eyes on him might never materialize.
Yes, she and Ted had their cozy three-bedroom house on Brandon Station Court.
And yes, they were both devout Christians who were active in their church.
And yes, Patricia still hoped that she and Ted would start a family together.
And yes, some of her anxieties, like the fact that the house she lived in had been robbed twice, had nothing to do with being married.
Still, the break-ins had shattered the sense of security Patricia felt as she started her new life with Ted.
Even though no one had been hurt and the burglar who robbed them the second time had eventually been caught by police.
Now, no matter how hard Patricia tried to control her fear, she still felt her chest tighten every time she approached the house and saw an unfamiliar car in the driveway or parked out on the road.
And maybe it was that feeling of always looking over her shoulder that had made every other event that had nibbled away at Patricia's dream of a safe and happy married life seem worse than it really was.
But overall it just felt to Patricia that the love and romance that brought her and Ted together three years ago had been totally replaced by practical daily routines.
Instead of spending the weekend together camping in the mountains, she and Ted sat at the kitchen table and paid the bills or cleaned the house or mowed the lawn.
And Patricia wouldn't have minded the feeling of settling into that kind of routine if she felt like she and Ted were still enjoying their time together.
But lately Patricia had begun to worry that after less than two years of marriage, she and Ted were already starting to grow apart.
Maybe Ted was even having second thoughts about having married her.
After all, Patricia knew that when she had first met Ted almost five years ago, back in 1990 at the church youth group, they had been just friends and definitely nothing more.
And Patricia also knew that between 1991 and 1992 Ted had had a serious crush on Patricia's second cousin, the beautiful Janet Blakely.
But by 1992, when Janet was getting ready to go off to college, Ted had suddenly seemed to notice Patricia in a different way.
And it wasn't long before the slim smart, dark-eyed woman with the knockout smile went from friend to sweetheart and then to wife, leaving Janet Blakely crying in the back of the church when the pastor had announced to the congregation that Ted and Patricia were engaged.
At first, when Patricia tried to talk to Ted about their marriage, he had looked at her in surprise, then pulled her close and told her everything was good and she should stop worrying.
But when Patricia brought the subject up again, Ted seemed irritated and impatient.
And then, just one week before today's barbecue, Ted had told Patricia that he had just applied to work a 3-11pm shift at a local textile company that manufactured all different kinds of fiber-based materials.
Ted's announcement had taken Patricia completely by surprise.
There was no question that the two of them had very different attitudes toward money.
Patricia had always been a saver, while Ted was more of a spender.
In fact, by the time Patricia was 16, she'd set enough money aside to buy her first car used, and by the time she was 23, she had enough in the bank for a down payment on a house.
Ted, on the other hand, loved all the extras that money could buy, outfitting his late model Jeep Cherokee with all the options.
And now he had his eye on a new motorcycle.
For Ted, money and social status were very important.
He and his younger brother, Ronnie Jr, had spent the early years of their childhood living in a small mobile home in a trailer park on the edge of Pleasant Garden, and Ted's father, an alcoholic, barely made enough money to keep the family afloat.
All that had changed when Ron Sr had given up drinking and taken his wife and two sons off to Liberty University in Virginia.
After getting his degree in pastoral leadership, Ron Sr had returned to North Carolina and settled his family in Julian, a few miles south of Pleasant Garden, where he was hired as the pastor of the Monette Road Baptist Church.
But even though the family's financial and social status had improved after Ted's father, Ron Sr, became a pastor, Ted still always was given a lot of responsibility.
That included watching out for his younger brother, Ronnie Jr.
He was very socially awkward and held back in school by a learning disability.
Ronnie Jr. was just not nearly as quick and confident as his older brother was.
Still, both boys had always worked hard.
Ronnie mostly did odd jobs around the neighborhood until he joined the military and enlisted in the Marine Corps.
Ted became such a good employee at the local home building store that when the business owner, Gary Lyle retired, he sold Lyle's building supply at a very good price to Ted.
But even though Patricia understood the reasons why her husband was ambitious and why he enjoyed owning luxuries his family had never been able to afford when he was young.
There was just no way that Ted needed to get a second job, especially one that would leave Patricia, who was already spooked by the break-ins, alone at the house that late into the evening.
As Patricia turned away from the backyard and stepped into the kitchen to help put away the leftover food, she tried not to think about another possible reason why her husband, the owner of his own successful business, might be looking for additional part-time production line work that paid under 650 an hour, so much less than he made at Lyle's Supply.
The sound of clattering dishes suddenly brought Patricia's attention back to the present and, pulling on her apron, she gave herself a mental shake.
What she really needed to do was stop all this worrying and trust in God's plan for her life.
Besides, in another few weeks she and Ted would be going on a marriage enrichment retreat, and Patricia was sure that once they had a chance to sit down and really talk to each other, they would both find new ways to connect with one another and she could put all of her jitters and suspicions to rest.
Still, Patricia felt a jolt when she finally heard the question that one of the women in the kitchen was repeating for the second time.
It was one of Patricia's fellow Sunday school teachers and she was asking Patricia if it was true that Ted was working at Precision Fabrics out in neighboring Greensboro.
Summoning up one more smile.
Patricia told her friend that yes, Ted would be starting there in nine days, on Monday September 18th.
And then bending over the dishwasher to hide her face.
Patricia did her best to sound happy when she added and yeah, I think he's really looking forward to it.
One month after the barbecue for members of the Elm Street Baptist Church on Monday, October 9 1995, Patricia pulled into the parking lot at Cinnamon Ridge Apartments a few minutes before 8 am.
Before heading into the office where she worked as the property manager, Patricia thought about the telephone call she had made three days earlier, on Friday night.
Patricia and Ted were both very close to Ted's former boss, Gary Lyle, who had basically passed Lyle's supply store on to Ted right after Ted and Patricia got married.
But when Gary wasn't there, it was Gary's wife Rose that Patricia had talked to on the phone.
Patricia had thought for a long time before making that phone call, but considering all that had happened in the last several weeks, Patricia had known that she had to confide in someone, even if what Patricia had to say sounded completely unbelievable.
Now sitting in her car and looking out at the clear sky of what was sure to be a beautiful fall day in North Carolina, Patricia put her hands together at her chest, lowered her head and said a short prayer, hoping that the prediction she had made to Rose three days earlier would never never, come true.
By 330 pm Patricia was ready to leave the office for the day and head home to 2401 Brandon Station Court and cut the grass.
Patricia was glad that the day had been quiet and trouble-free at Cinnamon Ridge.
Three months earlier, in July, Patricia had had to evict one of the tenants at the apartment complex.
The confrontation had been ugly and the tenant had made threats against Patricia's life.
As Patricia stood up at her desk and pulled on her light jacket, she said goodbye to her coworkers and a few minutes later she'd hopped into her car and was making the 13-mile drive south to Pleasant Garden.
All in all, it had been a good day.
Patricia had used her lunch break to run an errand in Greensboro and to make a surprise stop at Lyle's Supply with a bag of hamburgers and french fries that she'd picked up at a local fast food restaurant for Ted's lunch.
The two of them had avoided talking about money or about the fact that Ted wouldn't be home that evening until after his shift at Precision Fabrics, which ended at 11 pm.
Instead, they talked about what Ted's younger brother, Ronnie Jr, had planned for his short-leave home from the Marine base where he was stationed at Camp Lejeune, three hours to the southeast, in Jacksonville, North Carolina.
Like most people who knew the Kimball brothers, Patricia had always been struck by the obvious favoritism that their parents had always shown for Ted.
That had always made her feel a little protective of her awkward but straight arrow brother-in-law and glad he had met and married his fresh-faced and cheerful wife Kimberly.
Patricia had also reminded Ted that after she mowed the grass that afternoon she'd be going to a Bible study group that was meeting at 7 pm at the church.
But at about 4 o'clock.
As soon as Patricia caught sight of her house on Brandon Station Court, she knew right away that she'd be changing her afternoon plans.
And when she pulled into the driveway of the one-story green home with the American flag next to the door, she smiled, pulling her car over to the far left so she could squeeze in next to the vehicle already parked in her driveway.
It didn't matter that Patricia was now parked halfway on top of the grass she intended to cut, because as she turned off the engine and hopped out of the car and headed to the front door, she knew she was not going to be mowing the lawn.
At least not yet.
Because Patricia Kimball had company.
A little over four and a half hours later, the first Pleasant Garden fire engine lights flashing and volunteer firefighters in full protective gear clinging to the outside grips came screeching around the bend of Brandon Station Court.
All eyes were already on number 2401, the one-story greenhouse that now had waves of thick, muddy-looking smoke pouring out from under the front door and the openings in the chimneys, windows and vents.
And none of these first responders needed to be told that this house belonged to Patricia and Ted Kimball.
Because the dispatcher at the fire department who had taken the 911 call at 846 pm that evening, reporting a house fire at 2401, had been Patricia's godfather.
The emergency call was also personal for the lead firefighter who had hopped down from the jump seat on the fire engine even before the truck had come to a full stop.
24-year-old Alan Fields had gone to high school with Ted Kimble and he knew Patricia's family, the Blakelys, even better.
According to dispatch, Patricia's brother Ruben, had gotten a call at about 8 pm from Ted at Precision Fabrics asking Ruben to go check on Patricia, who had not been answering Ted's telephone calls.
Now, even before his crew had connected the hose to the nearest fire hydrant, Alan could feel the intense heat coming off the house in waves as he and his fellow firefighters rushed through the carport to the side door of the house that led into the kitchen.
But nothing in Alan's six years with the fire department had prepared him for the blast of superheated air and smoke that smothered him and his crew as soon as they had pushed through that door.
And less than a minute later, unable to see and unable to breathe, Alan frantically motioned his crew backward.
As they stumbled back out of the house and pulled off their masks to drink in huge gulps of fresh air somewhere above and around them, the firefighters could hear the crackle and snap of nearby leaves and tree branches, sucking in the heat from the house below.
And out in the street, under the flashing lights of the fire engines and the sheriff department cars, firefighters could make out the growing crowd of neighbors and family and friends of the Kimbles and the Blakelys.
Even as Alan called for high-powered fans to clear the smoke from the interior of the house, every firefighter there was already thinking about the sight of Patricia Kimball's car parked over the edge of the driveway, wondering if she was inside still alive, waiting for them.
Just then, Alan heard a shout from the front corner of the house.
Using a long metal rod.
One of the firefighters had smashed through one of the bedroom windows, hoping they might be able to pull out Patricia or anyone else in the house who might be crouching just on the other side of the wall.
But even as the firefighter reached his arm through the window, there was a sudden burst of flames, as the oxygen pouring in from outside reignited the hot embers inside.
As another team passed a hose through the broken window to douse the fire that had just erupted, Alan and his crew pushed back into the kitchen following the stream of air from the fans that was slowly knocking aside the walls of smoke.
As the pressurized stream from the hose began hitting the walls and floor and ceiling, the air in the kitchen, then the living room and then the hallway was filled with the sound of sizzling water.
Working in the lead.
Alan could just barely make out in the darkness the long strips of paint that had blistered and peeled off the walls and the burned and smoking insulation and crumbling sheetrock scattered around their heavy boots, when suddenly the floor just seemed to disappear right from under Alan's feet.
One second he was standing and the next he felt himself falling and rolling into a small space under the hallway, a four-foot deep hole that had burned through the floorboards.
But before Alan could even process what had just happened, he was suddenly aware of something firm but yielding underneath him.
As Alan put out one gloved hand to steady himself, he suddenly knew with terrible certainty that they had just found 28-year-old Patricia Kimball.
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Chicago, March 2nd, 1976.
A savage double murder rocks the city.
Two young lives snuffed out in their prime.
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A privileged, rich kid caught within four days, only to walk free through a web of influence and power.
For four years, the case gathered dust, the truth buried under the web of money, drugs and corruption, until an unlikely hero emerged, former rock musician turned star prosecutor, who refused to let the justice slip away.
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By the time Detective Jim Church from the Guilford County Sheriff's Department met up with his supervisor at 2401 Brandon Station Court that night, sheriff deputies had already strung yellow tape around the Kimball's property to hold back the crowd of spectators, and crime lab technicians and Guilford County fire inspectors were already combing through the smoking rubble inside the house.
But within minutes, a simple walkthrough of the damaged building, lit by portable floodlights, told Detective Church and Sergeant Detective David DeBerry a lot of what those techs and inspectors would later confirm.
The most important and obvious piece of that information was that the fire that had killed Patricia Kimball had not been an accident.
Sitting right in the middle of the kitchen was an empty gasoline can, and Detective Church, who was also a volunteer firefighter, pointed out the obvious burn pattern caused by an accelerant like gasoline that led from the kitchen over the back of a couch in the living room and then down the hallway to where Patricia's body had been discovered.
The detectives and fire inspector would also agree that whoever had set the fire had probably hoped it would burn long and hot enough to destroy the entire house.
Instead, the fire had probably only burned intensely for maybe a few minutes, not hours, leaving the bedrooms in the house practically untouched by actual flames.
And those bedrooms, especially the Kimbell's master bedroom, told their own part of the story.
As investigators stood in the doorway and took in the sight of the emptied out dresser drawers, overturned nightstand and the mattress pulled off the bed.
They both came to the same conclusion.
Before setting the fire, the arsonist had tried to make it look like the house had been robbed.
Except the arsonist had not done a very convincing job, leaving behind items, like an expensive camera, that were of obvious value.
There had also been no sign of forced entry into the house.
The pry marks that deputies had discovered on the side door into the house were marks that had been left from the robbery that had taken place earlier in that same year.
While investigators would go on to spend hours tracking down the robbery gone wrong angle, Their initial take on this crime was that the robbery had been staged to cover up the death of Patricia Kimball, and not that Patricia had been killed when she walked into her house and surprised a burglar.
There was also the fact that Patricia's car was parked half on the driveway and half on the grass.
That suggested to detectives that when Patricia had arrived home there had to have been another vehicle already parked in the driveway.
Otherwise, Patricia, who intended to cut the grass, would not have parked on top of the grass.
And whoever had been driving that vehicle had to have been someone Patricia knew or recognized.
After experiencing two traumatic break-ins, police believed there was just no way that Patricia would ever have unlocked her door and entered the house with someone she didn't know.
But even before detectives stepped into the room inside of Patricia's house where her body was now laying on a white sheet, detectives knew that they were not going to have much in the way of physical and forensic evidence to help them in this investigation.
Between the fire, smoke damage and the water from the fire hoses that now sloshed around their feet, they knew that the crime scene techs were just not going to find anything in the way of fingerprints or DNA.
Still, the first horrible sight of Patricia's body was enough to make every law enforcement officer in that house 100 committed to finding whoever had set this fire.
Surrounded by the ruins of her own wedding pictures and cross-stitched framed Bible verses, nothing recognizable remained of the beautiful, vibrant young woman with the chocolate brown eyes and infectious smile.
Patricia lay face down with her arms bent at the elbow, raised above her head.
All but one tuft of clothing had been burned from her body, and only charred stumps remained where her left foot and entire right leg should have been.
Around her patches and smears of bright red blood were the only signs that this had once been a living, breathing human being.
And then, scanning the length of the ravaged body, both detectives saw it at the same time.
Directly behind Patricia's left ear, there was a small, dark bullet hole.
And suddenly, everything about this case changed.
Patricia had to have been shot from behind in the head, and by the time the arsonist had staged the robbery and then set the fire, Patricia was already dead.
Within four days of Patricia's murder, police had already ruled out the most obvious suspects.
At the top of that list was Patricia's husband, Ted.
Not because of any obvious evidence, but because most violent homicides are committed by people close to the victim.
But not only was Ted in a state of shock that there was anyone in Pleasant Garden who would want to hurt Patricia, he also had a cast iron alibi for the time of the murder, which the medical examiner had determined must have occurred just after 4 pm on the afternoon of October 9th, not long after Patricia had arrived home from work intending to mow the grass, answering every question put to him by police.
Ted explained that from the time he left his house on that Monday morning at 745 am until the time he called Patricia's brother Ruben, at 8 pm to ask Ruben to go check on Patricia, Ted was either at work at Lyle's Supply or at Precision Fabrics.
And in between those two jobs, he had met up with his mother, Edna Kimball, for dinner at Mrs Winner's Chicken and Biscuits, a local restaurant not far from Precision Fabrics.
Ted's account of Patricia stopping by in the afternoon to meet him for lunch, along with a call he made to her office at Cinnamon Ridge later in the afternoon, just before she left.
Work also lined up with what police had learned about Patricia's last day from her coworkers.
Police also quickly ruled out two other suspects.
The man who had broken into the Kimbell house early in 1995 could not have murdered Patricia because he was still in jail at the time.
Still Detective Church conducted an interview with the suspect and went over the facts of the earlier break-in.
Investigators also tracked down the tenant that Patricia had recently evicted from Cinnamon Ridge Apartments, but she too had an alibi for the time of the murder.
But even as detectives seemed to be hitting one dead end after another, they were also turning up more and more information about growing strains between Patricia and Ted in the weeks leading up to Patricia's murder.
Patricia had confided to friends that she and Ted argued about Ted spending too much money.
Ted had also tried to take out 100000 of life insurance on his wife, and Patricia had absolutely refused to sign off on the policy.
Those same friends also told police that when Ted started working his part-time job at Precision Fabrics about one month before Patricia's death, Patricia had worried that he hadn't taken the job because he wanted more money.
Instead, he had taken the job because he wanted to spend less time with Patricia.
And despite the fact that Ted had an alibi and that he never collected on that life insurance policy, police continued to treat Ted as a suspect, circling back again and again to ask him more questions about his relationship with his wife and looking for inconsistencies in the story.
Ted had told police about his activities on the day of Patricia's murder.
It wasn't until Ted hired a lawyer and later posted a 10000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Patricia's murderer, that investigators were forced to leave Ted Kimball alone and admit that the homicide investigation into Patricia's death had started going cold.
But for Detective Jim Church, this was a case he just could not let go of.
And over the next 14 months, the 49-year-old investigator kept track of any new developments in the lives of Patricia Kimball's family and friends.
He also reached out beyond Patricia's immediate circle to interview Ted's brother Ronnie out at Camp Lejeune, and any of the women that Ted had dated before he married Patricia, including Patricia's cousin Janet Blakely.
But it wouldn't be until late January 1997, more than one year after Patricia Kimball's murder, that Detective Church finally got the tip that would break his first homicide investigation wide open.
And when that tip came in, Detective Church literally could not believe the identity of the caller.
The tipster at the other end of the telephone line.
It was the son of Reverend Jerry Falwell, the founder of Liberty University in Virginia and one of America's best-known Baptist pastors, televangelists and conservative activists.
And according to Jerry Falwell's son and attorney, one of the students enrolled at Liberty University's training program for pastors had just given the Reverend Jerry Falwell Sr the name of someone who might be involved in the death of Patricia Kimball.
And a little over two months later, Detective Church and Detective DeBerry, along with investigators from the North Carolina Special Bureau of Investigation, were ready to make their first arrests on charges of first-degree murder.
Based on the investigation into the tip from Reverend Falwell, here is a reconstruction of what police believe really happened to Patricia Kimball 16 months earlier, on the afternoon of October 9th 1995.
Patricia's killer was patient.
Waiting at the Kimball's house.
The killer was grateful that 2401 was the only house that had been built yet on Brandon Station Court.
It was still possible, but really not very likely, that a neighbor might notice the vehicle in the driveway.
Besides, it was not really in the killer's nature to worry about those types of details.
Instead, the killer had let themselves inside the house and prepared for the moment when Patricia came home.
The killer was methodical.
Once they had taken up their position inside the bathroom, just off the hallway that led from the living room down to the three bedrooms, the killer racked the slide of the Glock 45 pistol one more time, checked that the bathroom door was not closed all the way, then carefully made another mental review of the plan.
It wasn't that the killer disliked Patricia.
It wasn't even that the killer stood to benefit from Patricia's death.
There were just some responsibilities in life that could not be argued or bargained away.
And killing Patricia was one of those obligations.
And this would be a fast and merciful death.
The killer thought about that and decided that Patricia probably would not even feel any pain.
Just surprise.
Meanwhile, a few miles away, Patricia had stopped her car at an intersection and waved a quick hello to another driver.
As Patricia led up on the brake and moved forward again, she thought how completely ordinary her life must seem from the outside.
And after spending her lunch with Ted at Lyle's Supply earlier that day and picking up the phone this afternoon and hearing his familiar voice, Patricia wondered if maybe there was hope for their marriage after all.
She had seen how bitter and destructive divorce had been for her own parents, and if she could avoid going down that road herself, she would.
And with that thought in mind, Patricia took a deep breath and forced herself to concentrate on the here and now.
It was a beautiful warm afternoon and it would feel good to get outside and cut the grass and maybe do some other yard work before getting changed and cleaned up for her evening Bible study group.
But when Patricia rounded the curve of Brandon Station Court and saw the vehicle that was sitting in her driveway, her spirits suddenly lifted.
This was unexpected but, unlike a lot of the things that had been happening lately in Patricia's life, a visit with this person was unexpected in a good way.
Smiling, Patricia pulled her car into the driveway and parked half on the asphalt and half on the grass.
A moment later, and Patricia was walking through the open doors of the two-car garage.
Calling out a cheerful hello, she reached the side entrance into the kitchen, pushed it open and stepped inside.
Patricia was a little surprised when she heard a slightly muffled answer coming from deeper inside the house, but she didn't hesitate before following the voice down the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
And this was exactly the moment the killer had been waiting for.
As soon as Patricia passed the closed bathroom on her left, she never even noticed when the door opened behind her.
Silent as a ghost, the killer stepped forward, pressed the barrel of the gun against the back of Patricia's skull, just behind her left ear, and pulled the trigger.
Inside the small house, the blast from the gun was deafening.
But even as Patricia's body fell forward onto the hallway floor, arms raised over her head, the killer was already on the move.
Picking up the can of gas they had hidden in the bathroom, the killer started in the kitchen and poured a stream of gasoline that led through the living room, over the living room sofa and down the hallway to Patricia's dead body.
Standing over Patricia, the killer poured until Patricia's body was soaked and dripping.
Satisfied, the killer headed for the master bedroom.
Once there, the killer pulled out the dresser drawers, tossed out the clothes, knocked over the nightstand and pulled the mattress off the bed.
Pausing long enough to catch their breath.
The killer went back down the hallway, picked up the empty can of gasoline and then walked quickly into the kitchen, putting the can down on the floor, where police would find it almost five hours later.
Taking a few steps backward, the killer took the packet of matches out of their pocket.
There was a scraping sound as the head of the match dragged along the strike plate, and then a hiss as the match caught fire.
Flicking the lighted match towards the puddle of gasoline.
The killer only stayed long enough to make sure the flames caught as the fire began its journey from the kitchen through the living room, over the sofa and finally going up in a roar as it reached the body laid out in the 12-foot-long hallway.
A minute later and the killer was gone.
Late in January of 1997, 16 months after Patricia's murder, Ronnie Jr and his wife Kimberly were out in Lynchburg Virginia, visiting one of Ronnie's old friends.
Mitch Whitten was a former Marine who was now enrolled in the Pastoral Leadership Program at Liberty University, the same program and the same university where Ronnie Jr'.
's own father had studied back when Ronnie was just a boy.
It was also the same program and university where Ronnie had decided that he would like to go once his military service was over.
Mitch knew that Ronnie had been very affected by the tragic and unsolved murder of his sister-in-law Patricia, and Mitch hoped that his friend's decision to go into the ministry would help Ronnie find comfort and direction in his life.
But when the two friends sat down together in the evening to pray, Mitch was totally shocked at the change that suddenly came over Ronnie when Mitch began to read out loud from the Bible.
Jumping to his feet, Ronnie paced back and forth across the room before slamming his hands against his head, and then he turned to face Mitch and he said I did it.
I killed her.
I killed Patricia.
One day later, on Saturday January 25th, Mitch drove to Liberty University and put in a desperate request to speak to the university founder, Reverend Jerry Falwell Sr.
Mitch needed Reverend Falwell's advice.
Mitch had heard a murder confession from a friend, but the friend had refused to turn himself in to the police.
Within minutes, the Reverend's son, an attorney, was calling Detective Church at the Guilford County Sheriff's Department, advising the detective to go speak with a seminary student at Liberty University named Mitch Whitten.
Detective Church did not waste any time.
Nine days later, Mitch Whitten was talking directly to Detectives Church and DeBerry, along with an agent from the North Carolina Special Bureau of Investigation.
And according to Mitch Whitten, Ronnie Kimball had not acted alone.
On the night that Ronnie confessed to Mitch that Ronnie had killed Patricia.
Ronnie had also said that it was his older brother Ted, Patricia's husband, who had asked him to commit the murder.
Although Ted had promised his younger brother a cut of the life insurance money Ted expected to collect after Patricia was dead, Ronnie had told Mitch that he agreed to kill Patricia because Ronnie would rather die than say no to his older brother.
It would turn out that in the months leading up to her death, Patricia Kimball had every reason to be worried not only about her marriage, but also about her personal safety.
Patricia had been upset when Ted pressured her to sign off on a life insurance policy that would have paid Ted 100000 in the event of Patricia's death and 200000 in the event that Patricia died an accidental death like, for example, if she was burned to death in a tragic house fire.
What Patricia did not know until just days before her death was that, after Patricia had refused to sign off on that insurance policy, Ted had forged her name on the policy and submitted it to the insurance company.
What Ted apparently did not know when he forged Patricia's signature and when he asked his brother Ronnie to kill Patricia, was that the insurance company needed more than just Patricia's signature to issue the policy.
They also needed Patricia to take a series of blood tests, as well as a physical examination, in order to approve the paperwork.
And when the insurance company agent and the doctor's office called to schedule those tests, saying they had Patricia's signature on the policy, Patricia had become hysterical, said no to the tests and slammed down the phone.
It was on Friday, October 6th 1995, three days before her murder and right after Patricia had found out about the forgery that she called Gary and Rose Lyle and told Rose that if anything ever happened to her Patricia, police should investigate her husband, Ted.
What Patricia had never suspected was that Ted, who had always seemed to wield a lot of power and influence over his younger brother Ronnie, would somehow persuade or pressure Ronnie to actually harm or kill Patricia.
And apparently Patricia was murdered before the insurance company had time to contact Ted and tell him that the company could not issue the insurance policy he had requested for his wife Patricia, and upon her death, Ted would not be collecting on the forged policy.
Right from the start of the investigation, Detectives Church and DeBerry suspected that Ted had to be involved, and they had even begun to suspect that Ronnie Jr may have conspired with Ted to kill Patricia.
But without a confession and without any hard physical evidence that linked either brother to the crime, the investigation had ground to a halt.
However, in the months before Ronnie's confession to his friend Mitch Whitten, Detective Church continued to collect information that suggested to police that Ted's motive for getting married in the first place was money.
Gary Lyle, Ted's employer at Lyle's Building Supply, had made it clear that he was more likely to sell his business to Ted if Ted were married and settled down.
And Patricia's cousin, Janet Blakely, was one of at least two women who had all turned down Ted's marriage proposals.
Janet's tears when she learned about Patricia's engagement to Ted had less to do with envy and more to do with concern for Patricia, who was wearing the engagement ring that Ted had offered to Janet just one month earlier.
Police even speculated that Ted's decision to get part-time work at Precision Fabrics was just to make sure that he would have an alibi when he arranged for Patricia's murder.
It would also turn out that Ted had a history of running insurance scams.
He over-reported the number of items that had been stolen from the Kimbell house in those two earlier robberies and he also inflated the claims related to the fire damage on the house.
Ted would also be charged with stealing construction supplies from local businesses and from a local church that he would later sell at Lyle's Supply.
On March 31 1997, more than 17 months after the brutal murder of Patricia Kimball, police arrested Ted and Ronnie Kimball on charges of first-degree murder, arson and conspiracy to commit murder.
In September of 1998, almost three years after killing his sister-in-law, Ronnie Jr was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison without parole.
Three months later, and one month before ted was scheduled to go on trial, a search of ted's prison cell revealed detailed escape plans along with ted's plans to hire someone to kill five witnesses who were scheduled to testify against him.
Included on that hit list were gary lyle, the man who gave ted his start in business, and gary's wife rose patricia's telephone confidant.
Two months after police discovered Ted's hit list, Ted Kimball avoided a jury trial by pleading guilty to a lesser charge of second-degree murder, along with arson and conspiracy.
In January of 1999, a little over three years after Patricia's murder, Ted Kimball was sentenced to 107 years in prison.
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