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Even though today's story might initially seem like a fairly straightforward, stereotypical true crime story, I promise you it's not.
This story goes in a totally unexpected direction and when it's over, you'll likely think wow, I can't believe people like that actually exist.
But before we get into that story, if you're a fan of the Strange, Dark and Mysterious delivered in story format, then you've come to the right podcast, because that's all we do, and we upload twice a week, once on Monday and once on Thursday.
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Okay, let's get into today's story.
It begins here.
From the director of It comes It.
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It was September 19th 1999 and 48-year-old Susan Fassett just knew in her bones that her own personal day of reckoning was coming.
As soon as Susan stepped out of church that morning and away from the tight knot of friends all busy saying goodbye to each other, the too bright smile on her face was instantly replaced by the lines of strain and worry that seemed to get deeper every time she looked in the mirror.
There was just no getting around it.
Over the last four years, Susan had made a terrible mess of her life.
And now she and her husband of 24 years would have to pay for their mistakes.
The day was coming or maybe it was already here when she and Jeff would have to look together and deeply into the neglected and now poisoned core of their 24-year-long marriage.
As Susan walked, pulled out her car keys and headed towards her brand new gold Jeep Cherokee, she barely noticed the bright sun glowing through the leaves of the maple and oak trees in the woods beyond the parking lot.
When she and Jeff had first moved to the tiny town of Pleasant Valley with its 9000 residents, Susan had thought it was one of the most beautiful places on Earth.
And it was.
With its rolling hills and acres of cornfields stitched with old colonial-style homes set on nice big lots, Pleasant Valley was one of those places that actually lived up to its name.
And for Susan and Jeff, the location was perfect.
They could live and raise their family in a safe quiet, affluent community where everyone knew and watched out for one another.
And the city where they both worked, the town of Poughkeepsie, 10 miles to the north, was just a 20-minute commute away.
But now Pleasant Valley, like everything else in Susan's life, felt tainted and claustrophobic, like these beautiful walls were slowly closing in on her.
Climbing into her car, Susan's shoulders slumped.
The problems in her marriage had probably started a long time ago.
Her job as a personnel director at Poughkeepsie Town Hall and Jeff's grueling overnight shift as a lieutenant with the Poughkeepsie Police Department had left them with so little time for one another.
And now that their oldest son Jason, was 20 and their younger son Christopher, was 17, Susan and Jeff were no longer bound together by all the shared responsibilities of the children's school and sports and social activities.
But in the last five years, something much worse than two people drifting apart had also happened.
Even now, after so many years that the affair felt almost as normal as her marriage, when Susan actually thought about what she was doing, she still felt shocked that these were the choices she had made.
And when she said it all out loud to herself I am cheating on my husband, I am having an affair.
Jeff does not deserve this.
She knew absolutely that what she was doing was wrong.
And yet, she had not stopped.
She meant to stop.
Every day she meant to stop.
But armed with that good intention, telling herself that every meeting and every call with her lover would definitely be the last, the affair had just dragged on and on.
And over time Susan had told herself that the excitement and attention she got from outside her marriage actually made it possible for her to stay in her marriage.
It somehow made up for the lack of emotional connection she felt she had with Jeff and the fact that she and Jeff worked opposite schedules.
She worked days, he worked nights, although that too was Susan's fault.
But now word had gotten around Poughkeepsie Town Hall that Susan was stepping out on Jeff and worst of all, Jeff himself had recently confronted her affair partner And despite her lover's denials and Susan's own denials, her pretend outrage had sounded false and hollow even to her.
Just ten minutes after driving out of the parking lot of the Pleasant Valley United Methodist Church, Susan had arrived home.
As she turned away from her car and started walking through the thick carpet of fallen leaves, she noted how the outside of the cranberry red house that she shared with Jeff looked as neglected and in need of maintenance as their own marriage.
A moment later, standing at the front door, Susan steeled herself, arranging her features into an expression that appeared refreshed and relaxed, the way she wanted to feel after going to church.
Then she opened the door, put down her coat and purse in the hallway and then stepped into the living room to say what would sound like a cheery hello to Jeff.
But instantly before they had even exchanged a single word, Susan could feel the tension that hung between them and even without seeing his face, she could sense Jeff's hurt and distrust.
And lately, there had been something else in Jeff's expression too.
Something hard and knowing in how Jeff looked at her.
The way he turned away from her in mild disgust.
Just for a moment as Susan hovered on the threshold of the room where her husband sat waiting for her.
Susan wondered how other people in Pleasant Valley saw her.
She knew that, from the outside at least, she seemed like the last person who would be having an affair, let alone an affair that had grown as complicated as this one had somehow become.
To friends and family, Susan was the quintessential mom, wife, and working woman.
She was a college-educated professional who was up early in the morning and busy most nights until she went to bed.
An attractive woman with curly white, blonde hair, oversized glasses, a tiny but somehow appealing overbite and a solid build.
Susan mostly stood out as someone who was always willing to help other people, whether it was through her various community and church activities or in response to a direct request, even if that request came from a total stranger.
In fact, except for her height , Susan knew there was nothing about her that seemed at all out of the ordinary.
At work she was competent, well-liked, and respected.
And outside of work.
Her daily routines seemed as transparent and predictable as her ready smile and generally upbeat attitude.
On Monday nights, she attended a jazzercise class at Pleasant Valley's Jewish Community Center.
On Thursday evenings, Susan attended choir practice.
And on Sundays she attended church service and helped fill the worship space with the music she loved.
If Susan had any guilty pleasures at all, it was probably her devotion to the daily TV soap opera Days of Our Lives, a melodrama that she made sure to record so she could watch it every night after all her chores were done.
And as soon as she hit play, she could lose herself in the stories of beautiful people whose relationships friendships families, marriages and work lives were in a constant state of turmoil, like her own had so recently and secretly become.
Even at home, Jeff was the only person who seemed to have any inkling of Susan's affair.
Her sons, Jason and Christopher.
Both knew her as a loving mom who was easy to talk with, and confide in, that unusual person who would listen rather than pass judgment.
And Susan knew that all those traits that made her approachable and kind seemed to have been handed down to her directly from her own mother, or maybe just learned from both her parents, ever since she was a child growing up on a farm 30 miles to the south in the rural town of Pauling.
Susan's father, a farmer, and Susan's mother, a school teacher, had met in church and, while their first house had just four rooms, Susan and her only other sibling, a sister who was seven years older than Susan, had always enjoyed the love and attention of their parents.
And after Susan's older sister had left the farm to go to nursing school and later to settle in Connecticut, Susan also started dreaming of bigger and better things, of becoming a teacher, 30 miles and a world away in the big city of nearby Poughkeepsie, population 30000.
So, after graduating from college, Susan had packed her bags and, armed with her ambitions, she had left home and headed south.
But instead of becoming a teacher, she landed a job in Poughkeepsie Town Hall where eventually, as personnel director, she would be responsible for all the activities related to hiring city employees and working out their job descriptions and benefits.
And it wasn't long after her arrival in Poughkeepsie that Susan had met her future husband, Jeff Fassett, at a local bar.
Like Susan, Jeff was also starting his professional career.
Jeff had been born in Poughkeepsie and, after attending military college in Pennsylvania, he had returned to his hometown and joined the Poughkeepsie Police Department.
A quiet, generous and dependable man with a quick laugh.
Jeff had immediately been drawn to Susan's bubbly personality sparkling blue eyes and a playful streak that made her fun to be around.
And when Jeff and Susan so tall in her wedding dress and heels that you could look squarely into Jeff's eyes promised to quote hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer.
But by late afternoon on that bright Sunday, those early days of her marriage seemed so remote.
Susan wondered if they had ever existed at all.
Still, when she again walked into the living room, this time to ask Jeff what he would like for dinner, the finality of his simple, harsh statement to her came as a shock.
Jeff looked up at Susan.
"'You're busted,' he told her in a quiet voice.
Then he turned away before saying, "'Go.
Get out.'"
Susan's smile slipped from her face, but before she could offer any excuses or explanations, Jeff told her that he didn't need her confession to know that she'd been having an affair.
He was a cop after all.
He'd seen the signs and had his suspicions now for months, maybe even years.
But until now, he'd never confronted her and he'd never looked for proof.
In fact, he had hoped that if Susan was cheating, she'd get it out of her system and come back to him and they'd never even have to talk about it.
But when that didn't happen and the rumors at Town Hall were too loud and persistent to ignore, Jeff had recently attached a recording device to the Fassett's home telephone.
And sure enough, he'd heard a phone call his wife had made.
That left no doubt in his mind that she was not just having sex with someone else, but his wife was deeply involved with someone else.
For the time being.
Get out meant that Susan would take what she needed for the next several days from their master bedroom and move into the small apartment once intended for Jeff's elderly mother that Jeff had built in a separate part of the house.
That night, Susan lay awake in the narrow empty bed.
As she stared up at the ceiling, she thought about her life with Jeff, about all that they had done and made together, about their two children and about the pleasure that both of them used to feel when they were together.
It was as though someone had pulled a blindfold off of her eyes.
There was suddenly no question in Susan's mind that, even though her marriage was horribly damaged as a result of things she herself had done, it was worth infinitely more to her than continuing her affair.
As she laid there, she wondered if there was still hope for her and Jeff.
And at around midnight, as the clock clicked over to September 20th 1999, the 24th anniversary of their marriage, Susan turned on the bedside light, then swung her long legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, slipping on her glasses and pulling her robe tightly around her.
Susan stepped to the bag she had packed that afternoon and began rummaging through her belongings.
When she found the things she was looking for, she held both items tightly in her hands for a second or two before sliding them into her pocket.
Straightening up.
She took a deep breath, then left the little apartment and made her way to the bedroom she had so recently shared with Jeff.
Once inside, she stood next to the bed and looked at her husband.
Jeff, she whispered, waking him up from a light and troubled sleep.
Would you consider reconciling, she asked him.
And then Susan reached into her pocket and took out the items she had grabbed a few minutes earlier a cell phone and a pager she had been using to contact her lover.
Here, Susan told Jeff, handing him the two devices.
No more, Susan said.
I promise, it's over.
A few days later, the Fassett's older son Jason, walked into their house and saw his mom and dad cuddling together on the couch.
He'd known that his parents were considering the possibility of splitting up, so he was visibly surprised.
When his parents noticed the strange look on his face, Jeff and Susan smiled.
We decided to stay together and try to work things out, Susan told their son.
And over the next month, starting with Susan and Jeff both taking a week off work and spending every minute together, it seemed to the Fassett sons that their parents had in fact fallen back in love.
Jeff and Susan had even decided to buy new wedding bands and renew their marriage vows, and both Jeff and Susan had started working together on some badly needed home improvement projects that they had been putting off for years.
On Thursday, October 28th, about five weeks after Jeff and Susan had made the decision to reconcile, Jeff stopped by his wife's office in Poughkeepsie Town Hall.
He had just picked up his new wedding band, and he wanted to show Susan how it looked.
Smiling up at Jeff, Susan touched her finger to the bright, unscratched gold and agreed that the new band was perfect.
Then she told her husband she'd try to be home a little early that evening so they could have a family dinner together with Jason and Christopher and the boys' girlfriends, before Susan had to leave for her 7 pm choir practice.
Throughout dinner that evening, Jeff kept stealing glances at the new gold band on his ring finger.
To him, Susan's breaded chicken and green beans had never tasted so good.
Now that the two of them had talked things out, everything about his life, from simple meals to putting on his uniform each night and heading to work in the dark, seemed a million times better.
Before leaving the house for choir practice, Susan smiled as Jeff gave her a kiss and thanked her for preparing dinner.
He told her he'd look forward to seeing her when she got back.
Then Susan stepped outside and walked to her car.
Climbing inside the Jeep, she made the short drive from her home to the big white Methodist church located at 99 Martin Road.
As Susan expected, the small lot next to the church was full.
After all, with Thanksgiving and Christmas fast approaching, this was a season of music, when every member of the choir showed up for their 90-minute practice.
But after parking in the second lot across the street, Susan did not immediately get out of her car and head across Martin Street for the church.
Instead, she sat for a moment inside the quiet Jeep and thought about the pager that she had not given to Jeff back on the night of October 19th, when he had confronted her about her affair.
Now, as she looked up at the simple white steeple and cross lit by the church floodlights, she considered the five calls she had made to her lover earlier that day.
And all at once, Susan could feel her chest tighten with fear.
She knew that there was just so much that any husband could forgive.
And there were still things Jeff didn't know.
Things she could not let him know.
Things that made it very hard for Susan to do what she absolutely needed to do.
End this affair.
She thought back to the incident that had happened just as she and her family were finishing dinner that night.
Jeff had glanced out the window and thought he had seen someone skulking in the shadows of the driveway.
His cop senses always on high alert.
He'd stepped out onto the back porch for a closer look, but whoever it was if in fact there had been anyone there at all had melted away into the darkness.
Susan gave a tiny shake and told herself to stop being ridiculous.
Her lover had not been happy when she told him she wanted to end the affair and he had demanded one more recent sexual encounter.
But that was done now and she wanted to believe that they had parted on good terms and that her lover would not do anything to hurt her or her family.
And so if there really had been a person in the driveway, Susan told herself that it was probably just someone who had gotten lost and maybe they were thinking about asking for directions, but thought better of it.
And with that Susan gathered her purse and coat, left the Jeep locked in the parking lot and headed to the Pleasant Valley United Methodist Church.
An hour and a half later, at 836 pm, Susan was stepping out of the church surrounded by friends, all of them chatting, as they groped in pockets and purses for car keys, before fanning out in different directions as they headed for the two different parking lots.
For just 90 minutes in the joy of singing, Susan had been able to forget all of her worries and guilt.
And now, as she said goodbye to other choir members and made the short walk across Martin Street to her gold jeep, parked under an overhead light in the far lot, Susan felt a rare sense of inner peace.
Humming a few bars of music from the new arrangement the choir would sing this coming Sunday.
Susan failed to notice that a car she didn't recognize was parked right alongside her own in the church lot.
It certainly did not belong to any of the members of church choir, whose cars had become as familiar as the sound of each member's voice.
Instead, without so much as a glance at the car or the person who sat inside, Susan stepped to the driver's side of her Jeep, unlocked the door and climbed behind the wheel.
Closing the car door, Susan put the key in the ignition, turned on the car and headlights, then reached up to her left to pull the seatbelt down across her lap.
A moment later, the cold, clear night outside the Pleasant Valley United Methodist Church was shattered by the sound of six gunshots and then the kick of gravel, as the car that had been parked next to Susan's peeled out of the church lot and was almost immediately swallowed up by the thin ribbon of traffic along Route 72 out of town.
Within moments of the shots, members of the church choir were either pulling out their cell phones or darting back into the church to call 911.
At the same time, a few others headed for the far lot where the gunshots had come from and where at least one person saw an older model light-colored station wagon speeding to the parking lot exit.
By the time the first ambulance had arrived at the United Methodist Church, one of Susan's friends was sitting hunched over on the ground next to Susan's car, their arms cradling Susan's head and shoulders.
When the first bullet had shattered the driver's side window of the Gold Jeep Cherokee Susan, her seatbelt, not yet securely fastened, must have reached instinctively for her car door so she could jump down and try to escape the attack.
Instead, when the door opened, Susan had tumbled out and by the time her friend had reached her, Susan was slumped against the side of her car, her neck dark with blood, but still alive.
Even as the ambulance carrying Susan had raced off to St.
Francis Hospital in Poughkeepsie, the lead detective in the case was already on his way to the crime scene.
Arthur Boyko, a lieutenant with the New York State Police, had been notified of a shooting and possible dead body at the United Methodist Church parking lot in Pleasant Valley.
Detective Boyko knew exactly where that church was located.
Assigned to the Bureau of Criminal Investigation.
He worked with Troop K in a barracks located at the edge of Pleasant Valley, fewer than five miles from the church.
By the time Detective Boyko arrived at the church, local police had secured the scene with yellow crime scene tape and were doing their best to keep potential witnesses separate from the growing crowd of onlookers.
Tall, lean and commanding, with his thin face and military-style haircut.
The 34-year-old detective immediately took charge of the situation.
And right away, he knew that this investigation would be very, very complicated.
Because in the same breath that choir members gave first responders the name of the victim, Susan Fassett, they also told officers that Susan's husband was a cop, a lieutenant with the Poughkeepsie Police Department.
Even before forming any first impressions of the crime scene, Investigator Boyko knew that most murders and attempted homicides are committed by people close to the victim.
And that made Jeff Fassett an immediate person of interest.
Especially since, as a police officer, Jeff had a gun, a service weapon, that had to be secured and tested as soon as possible.
At the same time, the detective also needed to make sure that Jeff and his sons were informed of the attack on Susan.
And if Susan was still alive, her family deserved the chance to visit her right away at the hospital.
The decision about whether to question Jeff as a suspect or just inform him of the attack on Susan and let him go see her was made for the investigator when one of the witnesses to the shooting said that the car that had been parked next to Susan's belonged to Jeff Fassett.
Operating on the assumption that Jeff was armed and dangerous and may even try to harm other family members who might be inside the house with him, police immediately organized a Special Weapons and Tactics Team, or SWAT team, to surround the Fassett house and take Jeff and anyone else inside the house into police custody.
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Meanwhile, back at the crime scene, Detective Boyko had assigned officers to carry out interviews with eyewitnesses, along with Susan's friends, neighbors and coworkers at Poughkeepsie Town Hall.
In making a close survey of the scene and hearing initial eyewitness accounts, the detective had also arrived at several important conclusions.
As crime scene techs collected and photographed evidence and dusted for fingerprints, Detective Boyko had decided that this was not some random attack or attempted robbery.
No one had taken Susan's personal belongings, including her purse, which were still in plain sight on the front passenger seat, and whoever had attacked Susan must have been lying in wait for her, which suggested that not only was Susan the specific target of the attack, but that her would-be killer knew something about Susan's routines and expected that Susan would be at that church that night for choir practice.
But the pattern of gunfire also made it unlikely that this was a execution-style hit.
Not only did Susan seem like a very unlikely target for that, first responders had also reported that none of the bullets were clustered around Susan's head, like you would expect in an execution-style hit.
Instead, her attacker had fired a spray of bullets, including one that had missed its mark completely, and instead lodged in the doorframe of Susan's car.
By the time police had Jeff, his two sons and their girlfriends lying face down and handcuffed on the gravel driveway outside of the Fassett home.
It was 11pm and Susan had already died of her injuries.
And for the next 16 hours, police interrogated Jeff about his wife's murder, even as his sons sat handcuffed to separate desks inside the local police station.
All Jeff and the boys had been able to find out during a tense two-hour standoff with the SWAT team that had surrounded their house was that Susan had been shot at the United Methodist Church.
Although Jeff declared his innocence and answered every question in a calm, neutral voice, he had been a cop long enough to know that things looked very bad for him.
While Susan was at choir practice, he had left his house and driven to Poughkeepsie to get his paycheck.
So not only had an eyewitness ID'd Jeff's car as the one leaving the scene of the crime, Jeff also had no alibi for the time of the murder, and police had discovered that Jeff had a very strong motive for this murder.
If Susan thought she had kept her affair a secret from those around her, she was mistaken.
In no time, neighbors and coworkers had reported to police that Susan Fassett was having an affair.
Not only that but, as Jeff told police just weeks earlier, he had confronted Susan's affair partner with his suspicions right in the middle of Jeff's office inside the Poughkeepsie Police Department.
But throughout that long night of questioning, Jeff never wavered from his absolute insistence that he had nothing to do with his wife's brutal murder.
And he also never wavered from telling police that if they wanted to find his wife's killer, they should go talk with the man she'd been seeing outside of their marriage.
You can turn on the hot lights.
Jeff told the lie detector expert from the State Bureau of Criminal Investigation beat me with rubber hoses.
But when you're all done with me and you get me out of the way, you go see Fred Andros.
He did this.
He's involved in this.
The identity of Susan's affair partner and his possible involvement in her murder sent shockwaves through every level of the investigation, even making its way into the regional offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the FBI.
It also sent shockwaves through Poughkeepsie Town Hall, where Fred Andrus had worked until recently as the head of the town's water department.
Because Fred Andrus' name was already widely and publicly linked to serious criminal activity.
Back in May of 1999, just five months before Susan's murder, Fred had been forced to resign his job as water superintendent after he was caught collecting bribes for a man named William Paroli, the most powerful political operative in the Poughkeepsie Republican Party.
And one day after Fred resigned, he pled guilty to corruption charges and struck a deal with the FBI.
In exchange for a lesser sentence, Fred had agreed to testify against William Paroli, who was charged with running a widespread shakedown operation of local contractors for the previous six years.
And not only was Fred Andrus a known thief and liar, he was also a well-known womanizer.
Despite his bullet-shaped head, small facial features and Elvis-like pompadour all stacked on top of his 5'7'' overweight body.
Fred was on his fourth marriage, a fact that did not stop him from regularly soliciting the services of Poughkeepsie-area prostitutes.
The connection between Fred and Susan, confirmed by Jeff, opened the door to all kinds of new leads in the investigation.
If it wasn't Jeff who killed his wife in a jealous rage, was it Fred?
Was it Fred's wife?
If Fred was involved with multiple women, could one of them have viewed Susan as a rival and decided to kill her?
Or did Susan, because of her close association with Fred, know something about the ongoing corruption probe that made her a target of assassination?
By 4am on the morning of October 29th, while Jeff was still being questioned at the Pleasant Valley Police Station, Investigator Boyko was sitting across the table from Fred inside Fred's comfortable three-story home located in a nice part of Poughkeepsie called Hyde Park.
And within minutes of talking to Fred, the detective was aware that Fred, despite his less than handsome appearance, possessed a certain charm and confidence.
He also had an airtight alibi for the evening of Susan's murder.
From 7 to 9 pm.
The previous night Fred and his wife had spent the evening with friends.
A retired Poughkeepsie police officer and his wife.
The man had spent most of the evening down in Fred's basement building very sophisticated model airplanes, which was a hobby the two friends shared.
As for his relationship with Susan, Fred would confirm that he had been having a four-year-long affair with Susan and that they had actually known each other for 16 years before that.
Fred also confirmed that Susan had wanted to end their affair after her confrontation with her husband Jeff back in mid-September, but Fred insisted that it had been a mutual decision to end the affair.
And when the two of them had broken it off back in September, Fred had made a full confession to his own wife, who had been generous enough to forgive him.
When asked when he had last seen or had a sexual encounter with Susan, Fred disclosed that he was actually impotent and that the physical part of his relationship with Susan consisted of cuddling and kissing and companionship.
According to Fred, the last time he and Susan had actually had sexual intercourse was one and a half years ago.
Although Fred was obviously distressed by the news that Susan was dead, the only subject that seemed to make the disgraced town official nervous was whether the murder could have anything to do with the ongoing corruption probe at Poughkeepsie Town Hall.
Fred admitted that now that he was a witness for the FBI, he felt like he could be in danger from local bad guys.
And Fred also admitted that it was possible Susan could have been in danger just because of him.
Contrary to what Detective Boyko heard, that Susan's affair with Fred seemed to be public knowledge.
Fred insisted that he and Susan had kept their relationship a very closely guarded secret.
It seemed like a small discrepancy, but one that the investigator knew he would have to follow up on.
Meanwhile, detectives also began to collect all of the communication data that belonged to the key figures in the case, including Susan, Fred and Jeff.
With the help of technology experts, investigators hoped to compile a picture of who was where and who was talking to whom in the days and weeks leading up to Susan's murder.
The first break in the case came on October 30th, two days after Susan's murder.
Partial results from Susan's autopsy had revealed traces of semen inside of Susan, meaning she must have had intercourse between 24 and 48 hours before she had died.
Hours later, Jeff was brought back to the police station, where he told detectives that the last time he and Susan had made love was four or five days before she was killed.
An analysis of the blood sample Jeff gave police, along with the results of a lie detector test.
He also agreed to take confirmed Jeff's story.
And after seeing pictures of Jeff's car, the woman who had placed his car in the church parking lot on the night of the murder also told police that she actually might have been mistaken.
It might have been a different car.
While police were still not willing to rule Jeff out as a suspect, they now knew that they had to find the man who had had sex with Susan within two days of her murder.
Unfortunately, the problem with this new piece of physical evidence was that police simply had no other suspects aside from Jeff, against whom they could match the semen sample.
So, even though police had ruled Fred Andros out as the murderer, Detective Boyko decided, it was still worth following up with him, as well as with Jeff, to see if either man could shed additional light on what was happening in Susan's life or in her past that might provide any clues to her murder.
Because Fred had a solid alibi for the time of the murder and police had no evidence that linked him to the crime.
There was no legal way to compel Fred to give them a DNA sample so they could rule him out as the mystery man who last had sex with Susan Fassett.
But when Fred declined the investigator's request for such a sample, there was nothing to prevent Investigator Boyko from inviting Fred to have lunch with him in a public place and then for the detective to collect a DNA sample by pocketing the straw that Fred had used to sip from his cup of water.
Besides, after hearing rumors that Fred regularly solicited sex from prostitutes, investigators had to wonder if Fred had been lying when he told them he was unable to have sex.
But it wasn't until mid-December, one and a half months after Susan was gunned down, that Detective Boyko and the Bureau of Criminal Investigation would get the tip they needed to break the murder case wide open, and the story that investigators ultimately pieced together would make Susan's favorite soap opera, Days of Our Lives, look like a happy fairy tale written for kids.
Based on what investigators discovered.
Here is a reconstruction of what happened on the night of Thursday, October 28th, when Susan left the United Methodist Church in Pleasant Valley and hummed her way across the parking lot to her brand new gold Jeep Cherokee.
As soon as the killer arrived at the church, they saw that their timing was perfect.
Susan's distinctive Jeep was parked in the lot farther away from the church and there were several empty slots on either side of the Jeep.
A moment later, the killer had backed the old Taurus station wagon with the fake license plates into the empty space next to the Jeep.
Now, the front passenger seat of the Taurus was directly across from the driver's side of the Jeep.
As the killer hoisted their bulky frame from the driver's side into the passenger seat.
They put the passenger side seat back all the way, so anyone looking at the Taurus would think the car was empty.
Reclining in the dark, the killer tried to slow their racing heart.
Earlier that evening, the killer had actually gone directly to Susan's house to see if they could get a clean shot at her while she was eating dinner with her family, or if she stepped outside alone onto the back porch.
But the killer had barely made it halfway up the driveway before Susan's husband had suddenly come out the back door and begun to make a slow circuit of the house while calling out if anyone was out there.
That had been even worse than what had happened four days earlier, on Monday, October 25th, when the killer had driven to the Pleasant Valley Jewish Community Center intending to kill Susan there, but the center had been too crowded and Susan's car wasn't there, so the killer had just left.
But now, there was no turning back.
It had been made very clear to the killer that Susan was not dead by the end of tonight, that very bad things would happen to the killer's own family.
Closing their eyes in the dark, the killer could see the photographs spread out on the kitchen table in front of them.
The killer's son, each sibling, each aunt, each stepchild, all pictured alone, all vulnerable to some terrible accident, including murder.
It would be a shame if anything happened to them.
The choice was clear, Susan or the killer's own loved ones.
And at 4 pm that afternoon the killer was driving away from their home in the Catskill Mountains, one hour south to Pleasant Valley.
Along the way, the killer stopped at a local Kmart near the Fassett home and bought shoes, a T-shirt, a black full-face ski mask and a bottle of pain pills for the headache that now never seemed to go away.
A little further on.
The killer pulled into a Dunkin' Donuts coffee shop and bought two dozen donuts and then crammed them one after the other into their mouth.
There had been an added incentive get rid of Susan and the killer would not have to pay back that loan, which now totaled over 10000.
Yes, the decision to go directly to Susan's house had been stupid, but there was no harm done, and now the killer was perfectly placed to make the kill and then forget that any of this had ever happened.
The reason Susan had to die was so she could never testify in court about the corruption case.
But sitting here now.
The killer decided that for the person who had set this plot in motion, the real motive here was revenge.
A moment later, the killer checked their watch and then reached over to the 45 caliber Ruger on the seat next to them.
It was almost time.
And sure enough, just after 830 pm the killer could see the doors of the church open and in the light that spilled out, the killer had no trouble recognizing Susan's tall figure and white blonde curls.
After exchanging goodbyes with other members of the choir, Susan stepped out from the group and started making her way across Martin Street toward the second parking lot.
The killer stared at Susan in fascination.
They had only been together five times, but the killer knew every inch of those long legs and feel of Susan's solid hips back chest, arms and mouth.
But aside from knowing Susan's body, the killer felt no connection to the woman they were about to kill.
It wasn't like they had ever been in a relationship with one another.
A minute later and Susan had walked to the driver's side of her Jeep, opened the door and tossed her purse onto the passenger seat.
The killer lay back, still reclining, until Susan had climbed into the Jeep and started the engine.
Then, sitting up, the killer leveled the gun at Susan and started pulling the trigger.
The first shot shattered the window on the driver's side of the Jeep.
That same bullet also passed directly through Susan's neck, hitting two major arteries.
As Susan opened her door and tumbled out of the car, the killer shot five more rounds.
Four of those bullets would lodge into Susan's body.
The fifth would lodge into the driver's side doorframe of her Jeep.
Two of the shots were fatal.
Even as medics would later rush Susan to the hospital, she was already dying and there was nothing anyone could have done to save her.
As soon as the gun was empty, the killer shifted back into the driver's seat and took off out of the church parking lot.
On their way home.
The killer dropped off the garbage bag containing the gun, gloves and ski mask at the prearranged location alongside of a nearby road.
Then Susan's sexual partner, a 50-year-old woman named Dawn Silvernail, stopped outside of a convenience store in Hyde Park, Poughkeepsie.
Before heading back to her house and husband up in the Catskills Dawn called her other sexual partner, Fred Andrus, on his pager.
As soon as the device connected, Don carefully typed in the numbers 666, the agreed-upon code that would let Fred know that Susan Fassett, the third member of their sexual threesome and the woman who had dared to leave him, was now dead.
It would turn out that it was Fred who had planned and orchestrated Susan's murder by coercing another one of his lovers to kill Susan.
But it wasn't until mid-December that Fred revealed the name of the woman who had actually fired the shots that killed Susan.
That was when an analysis of the DNA from Fred's drinking straw confirmed that Fred was the mystery man who had had sex with Susan within two days of her murder.
By the time Jeff Fassett had confronted his wife back in mid-September with proof that he knew about her affair with Fred Andrus.
Susan already knew that when it came to Fred she was in way over her head.
What had started as an affair four years earlier had become a relationship that Fred used to play out his own sexual fantasies.
He made that easier for himself by getting Jeff Fassett moved to an overnight shift, so Fred would have better access to Susan.
In addition to Fred's relationship with Susan, he had also been involved with a woman named Dawn Silvernail.
The two had first met back in 1977 over Citizens Band Radio, where Fred went by the name Neptune and Dawn went by the name Footloose.
After meeting in person a year later, the two began a sexual relationship that would continue on and off for more than 20 years, during which time Fred would marry and divorce multiple times and Dawn would marry and settle in the Catskill Mountains in upstate New York.
Over the years Fred had loaned Dawn about 15000, which Dawn started paying back by performing sex acts for Fred, including having sex with Fred's friends and acquaintances.
And by the summer of 1999, Fred had developed a taste for watching two women have sex with each other and then joining in to make it a threesome.
It was then that Fred started recruiting and paying Dawn to have sex with Susan.
The encounters would usually take place on the concrete floor of one of Poughkeepsie's several water pumping stations, except for the first encounter which Fred staged in his own basement and which he videotaped from start to finish.
After Susan ended her affair with Fred in mid-September.
Susan's family believes that Fred, enraged by the rejection, may have threatened either to harm Susan's family or to reveal the contents of that sex tape unless she continued to see him.
Once Fred was confronted in mid-December by investigators who now had proof that Fred had been lying to them all along about his involvement with Susan, Fred tried to save himself by pointing the finger at Dawn and insisting that Susan's death was the result of a lover's quarrel between the two women.
But when interrogated by police, Dawn eventually laid out every detail of the murder plot devised by Fred Andrus and handed over to police the gun she had used to kill Susan and Dawn's story would be backed up by an analysis of phone and pager records belonging to Fred, Dawn and Susan.
The data showed that Dawn had called and talked with Fred several times on the day of Susan's murder and that Dawn had paged Fred from the convenience store near his home shortly after she had committed the murder.
According to Dawn, Fred had insisted that Susan had to die so she could never testify against him in court about his involvement in the Poughkeepsie corruption scandal.
Except that federal agents insisted that Susan had no involvement in that corruption probe and no information that could affect the case one way or another.
But before police could arrest Fred, there would be one more unbelievable twist to this bizarre and tragic crime.
On December 30th 1999, two months after Susan's murder, police were inside the Andrus house executing a search warrant when they heard a single gunshot up in the attic.
Realizing that he would be prosecuted for murder, Fred had attempted suicide by holding a gun to his chin and pulling the trigger.
But instead of traveling up into his brain, the bullet glanced off the bone in Fred's jaw and instead of killing him, it blew away the lower part of his face.
Fred would survive the self-inflicted injury and on February 23 2001 he was found guilty of second-degree murder and conspiracy in the first degree in the death of Susan Fassett.
The two charges would carry a combined prison sentence of 50 years to life.
On March 16th 2001, Dawn Silbernail, who had accepted a guilty plea in exchange for testifying against Fred Andrus, was sentenced to 18 years to life for killing Susan Fassett.
One year and nine months into his prison sentence at the age of 63, Fred Andrus died of an apparent heart attack at the Clinton Correctional Center in New York.
Dawn Silvernail was released from prison after serving 16 years.
She died three years later at the age of 70.
Susan's husband, Jeff Fassett, remarried five years after Susan's death and two years later retired from the Poughkeepsie Police Department.
Jeff would die of cancer in 2018 at the age of 67.
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