In March of 1990, a detective in Florida who was investigating a missing person case decided to search a forested area right off of a busy highway.
This forest had been searched before, but this detective just had a hunch that something could still be in there.
And so he stepped into the thick rows of trees and began walking deeper into the forest.
After a while, he was so far inside that he couldn't hear the highway anymore.
All he could hear was the buzzing of insects all around him.
At some point the area in front of him became so thick he didn't know if he could physically get through it, but he decided he would try to push just a little bit further.
And after only a few minutes he reached a clearing and there was something big in the middle of it.
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Okay, let's get into today's story.
It begins here.
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Lorraine Hendricks waited until she was sure her daughter was asleep.
Then the 43-year-old mom opened her daughter's bedroom door as quietly as she could and peeked in on seven-year-old Catherine.
No matter how busy or hectic Lorraine's day was, the sight of her sleeping daughter, her dark gold hair on the pillow, surrounded by picture books and stuffed animals, always gave Lorraine a sense of peace and contentment.
It was just the beginning of March 1990.
At this time of the year it was already cold up in Connecticut, where Lorraine had been born, but here in Lorraine's adopted home state of Florida, it was still mild and comfortable.
The window in Catherine's room was open and Lorraine could see the curtains move in the cool breeze.
Lorraine knew she would never forget the terrible disappointment she had felt back in her early 30s, when she had suffered a miscarriage.
But that experience had also made the joy and gratitude she'd felt at the age of 38, when she became pregnant, again all the more incredible.
Even now, Catherine's birthday, still four months away, marked a milestone that felt as special to Lorraine as it was exciting for Catherine.
In the glow from the hallway light overhead, Lorraine could see the dark line of Catherine's eyelashes and hear the gentle sound of her breathing.
With a final whispered goodnight, Lorraine pulled her daughter's door closed as quietly as she had opened it just a minute or two earlier.
And as she did, Lorraine felt a pang of regret about her weekend plans.
It was Saturday evening, March 3rd, and tomorrow Lorraine would begin a seven-hour road trip south from her home here in Jacksonville to Fort Lauderdale.
That was the big drawback to traveling.
Lorraine would miss putting Catherine to bed tomorrow night and she would probably be driving into the evening on Monday night as well.
Then again, Lorraine thought she'd been lucky.
Starting.
Right after Catherine was born, and with the support of her husband Rick, Lorraine had been able to take a six-year break from her own work in public relations and marketing so she could stay home with Catherine until their daughter was old enough to start school.
And during those years, Lorraine had been able to teach Catherine to speak not only English, but a smattering of French and Spanish, as well as fluent Polish, the language that Lorraine herself had learned from her parents, Frank and Jody Dombrowski.
Having a baby had also added to Lorraine's pleasure in physical activity.
A natural athlete, Lorraine had always welcomed any and every physical challenge that she could find, from mountain climbing to skydiving, to motorcycle racing, to the black belt in karate she had earned when she was in her 20s.
It wasn't long after giving birth that Lorraine was back to running, not only to get fit, but so she could run races again, and even marathons.
Except now, Catherine was with Lorraine in a stroller or caught up in her mother's arms towards the end of a race to be carried laughing across the finish line.
Not that life was perfect.
Lorraine gave a little sigh as she thought of Catherine's father.
After 11 years of marriage, Lorraine and her husband Rick were just weeks away from finalizing their divorce.
In fact, one of the reasons for Lorraine's trip south the next day was to arrange for the sale of their condominium located in the Fort Lauderdale suburb, where they lived before Rick had gotten his current job up here in Jacksonville two years earlier.
But the divorce had been as friendly as their marriage had been.
It was just that, over time, the two of them, who had married only six weeks after meeting each other, had grown apart.
And since their separation, Rick had met someone new, and so had Lorraine.
The thought of this new man in her life made Lorraine smile.
Since opening her own public relations firm a year ago, she'd landed some very big accounts and had made a name for herself.
In the past 12 months, she'd helped organize and market some high-profile conventions, festivals and corporate events, and arranged entertainment with celebrities like Frankie Avalon and Joan Rivers and the Smothers Brothers.
And in the course of that work, Lorraine had met the man, also in the entertainment industry, who she believed would one day become her husband and Catherine's stepdad.
Except this time, Lorraine was moving slowly.
Neither of them felt any need to rush and right now they were just enjoying whatever time together they could carve out of their busy schedules.
Not that either love or business would squeeze out the other activities in Lorraine's life and in the life she wanted to build for her daughter.
Lorraine had always followed her own mother's example, taking time to give back to her community.
And Lorraine, also a devout Catholic like her mother, had done just that, whether it was teaching Spanish language classes at church or the time she'd spent years ago running self-defense courses for women or rescuing stray or abused animals.
Above all, Lorraine was a people person.
Confident and curious.
She was a good judge of her fellow human beings and, whenever possible, if she was faced with a difficult situation or conflict, she tried to find common ground without ever sacrificing her own strong code of morals and ethics.
A moment later, Anne Lorraine had walked the short distance from Catherine's bedroom to her own.
Her parents would be here first thing tomorrow, and right now Lorraine needed to pack an overnight bag for her trip to Fort Lauderdale.
At 8 a.m. the next morning, Lorraine was ready to go.
As soon as she had showered, she'd slipped into a pair of faded jeans, a reddish brown top and comfortable moccasin-style shoes.
Lorraine didn't bother with makeup.
Not only was she a natural athlete, she was also a natural beauty.
5'6'' tall and slim as well as fit, Lorraine looked much younger than 43.
Although her thick, once blonde hair had darkened years ago to a shining chestnut, It was easy to see why she had won the Miss Stamford Connecticut beauty pageant back in 1967 and later did some work as a model.
Lorraine quickly ran a brush through her damp hair, then headed downstairs to have a quick breakfast with Catherine and her own mom and dad before leaving.
As she walked down the stairs, Lorraine smiled.
She could already hear Catherine chattering to Lorraine's mom in Polish.
After breakfast, Lorraine kissed her mom and Catherine and they said their goodbyes.
She reminded her parents that her soon-to-be ex-husband Rick, would be there at 11 am to take Catherine down to his own apartment where she would stay until Lorraine got back on Monday.
Then Lorraine and her dad carried her bags out to Lorraine's gray four-door Honda Accord, and Major Dombrowski Lorraine's father was an officer in the Army gave his daughter a quick hug.
She promised she would call at her first stop for gas.
The fuel gauge in her car was broken and she didn't want anyone worrying that she would run out of fuel.
After slipping into the driver's seat, Lorraine started the car and glanced over at the passenger seat just to make sure she had her headphones handy and her tape deck cued up to her favorite music.
A moment later, Lorraine was backing out of the driveway.
As she turned onto the residential street where she lived, she blew one last kiss to the tight group of three people, her parents and little Catherine, who stood waving at her from the doorway.
As Lorraine headed into Jacksonville to pick up Interstate 95 that would take her all the way to Fort Lauderdale, she settled in to enjoy the familiar and scenic ride along the east coast of Florida.
And at 10 am true to her word.
After two hours of driving, Lorraine pulled off I-95 and stopped at a gas station to refuel.
Then, parking close to a nearby payphone, Lorraine got out to call her parents and chat for a minute with Catherine.
Lorraine told her dad, who had answered the phone, that she was making good progress and she'd call again later when she got to Fort Lauderdale.
About one hour later, Lorraine was traveling through Indian River County, one of those especially beautiful stretches of Florida that lives up to the name of its location along Florida's so-called Treasure Coast.
Even though Lorraine had made this drive many times, she was still struck by the natural wonders all around her.
On her way back, she'd be driving alongside the Indian River and the Pelican Island National Refuge, but even traveling southbound, on the inland side of the interstate, there was plenty to see, especially since she seemed to have this particular stretch of the highway all to herself.
After rounding a slight bend in the road, Lorraine noted the thick palmetto and pine trees that crowded the inside of the wide median strip on her left, and it was also at that moment that Lorraine suddenly became aware of the fact that she wasn't alone on I-95 after all.
Four days later, on March 8th, 36-year-old detective Phil Williams was standing in his now usual place, directly on top of a big red X that had been spray-painted onto the shoulder of I-95 near Vero Beach in Indian River County, Florida.
It had been three days since March 5th when the Florida Highway Patrol and Florida law enforcement had received a missing person report for Jacksonville resident Lorraine Hendricks.
The stark words of the bulletin ran through Detective Williams' mind on an endless loop.
Missing adult, endangered, good mental condition, foul play suspected.
The first sign that something had happened to Lorraine was her failure to meet up with her realtor early on the afternoon of Sunday, March 4th in Plantation, a suburb of Fort Lauderdale and the location of the condo that Lorraine and her soon-to-be ex-husband owned and that Lorraine was about to put up on the market.
By late on that afternoon of March 4th the phone lines up and down the Florida coast and to every Florida patrol officer's headquarters between Jacksonville and Fort Lauderdale had started humming with frantic calls as Lorraine's family began to realize with growing panic that Lorraine seemed to have disappeared into thin air.
The last anyone had ever heard from the 43-year-old mom and businesswoman was at about 10am on the morning.
She left Jacksonville when she called her parents from a payphone at a gas station just 57 miles north of where Detective Williams now stood.
It hadn't taken long to locate Lorraine's car.
They found it even before the missing person report went out to all law enforcement.
At noon on Monday, March 5th, Highway Officer Mike Transue, who patrolled that stretch of I-95, had already called into Vero Beach headquarters to report a 1982 gray four-door Honda Accord parked on the shoulder of I-95 southbound in Indian River County.
There was no sign of the driver or any car keys, but when officers ran the plates they discovered that the car was registered to Lorraine Hendricks.
Once the car was towed to a police lot where it was searched and fingerprinted, police painted a large red X on the shoulder of the road where they had found Lorraine's car.
In the four days since that discovery, Detective Williams had not wasted a minute.
He had interviewed Lorraine's father and her soon-to-be ex-husband, who had both driven down to Vero Beach as soon as they heard that Lorraine's car had been found.
With their help, investigators had put together a list of Lorraine's friends and business associates, as well as the name of the new man in Lorraine's life.
The only item that appeared to be missing from the car was Lorraine's wallet with her driver's license and her car keys.
Investigators also pulled all the traffic tickets, warnings and arrests that had been made along I-95 in the days before, during and after Lorraine's disappearance, in hopes that law enforcement had encountered either Lorraine or anyone remotely suspicious who might have been involved in her disappearance.
Detective Williams and his officers had done foot searches of both the shoulder and the median strip where Lorraine's car had been found, looking for any clue from a scrap of paper she might have dropped to an article of clothing or jewelry.
But so far nothing.
It turned out, the gray Honda she was driving had plenty of gas and no mechanical problems that might have led to a roadside breakdown.
There was no evidence that Lorraine had picked up a hitchhiker.
There was no sign that her car plates had been run through any law enforcement system database on either Sunday March 4th or Monday March 5th when her car was discovered.
Lorraine's new boyfriend had left the day before Lorraine's trip south to spend a week in Europe on business, and Lorraine's soon-to-be husband had been up in Jacksonville with their daughter when Lorraine disappeared.
But even though their foot searches of the area hadn't turned anything up either, Detective Williams kept finding himself returning again and again to the Red X on the side of the road where Lorraine's Honda had been found.
He was standing there now on the warm, windy and very humid afternoon of Thursday March 8th, staring in frustration at the densely wooded median strip about a mile away that separated this southbound stretch of I-95 from the northbound lane.
Earlier that day, Detective Williams had ordered another intensive search of that area, first with helicopters and then with a large team of all area law enforcement who had done a step-by-step search of the whole three mile long, 300 yard wide stretch of grass and pine and palmetto trees.
But the helicopters had peeled away with nothing to report from the sky.
It was almost impossible to see through the thick canopy of trees, and law enforcement officers on the ground had emerged from their foot search sweaty, bug-bitten and empty-handed as well.
But Detective Williams still wasn't satisfied.
He was developing a theory that Lorraine must have been the victim of a random sex crime, that someone had been able to lure her out of her car, maybe pretending to have car trouble and flagging her down to help.
And it looked to the veteran detective that the median strip with the big forest was the most likely place to commit a rape and then maybe a murder.
Before going back to headquarters, he decided that he'd make one more foot search of the median forest himself.
But before crossing the interstate to join his partner Larry Smetzer, Detective Williams was joined by the two patrol officers who worked this stretch of I-95.
Mike Transu, who had found Lorraine's car four days earlier, and Tim Harris, a K-9 officer whose highly trained German Shepherd was sitting at attention in Tim's nearby cruiser.
Detective Williams knew from the hours he'd spent looking at recent traffic tickets that Tim had been processing an arrest at the time of Lorraine's suspected disappearance.
But he still asked both officers if there was anything new they might have remembered about their Sunday March 4th shifts along this stretch of road.
Both officers shook their heads, but Tim offered to use his dog Shadow to help with the foot search of the Forest Median later that evening, when the wind had settled, so any scent would be close to the ground.
But detective williams, who was a stocky man with a mustache and an easy manner, decided he did not want to wait that long, and so, after the two police officers had left, he and his partner, detective smetzer, found themselves wading into the thickest and darkest part of the median forest, where they decided to split up so they could search in two different directions.
Even though they were actually close to one of the most heavily used interstates in the country.
As Detective Williams worked his way into a stand of pine and palmetto trees, it was like he'd entered a different world.
Despite the Florida sun, it was dark in there and the sound from the road was so muffled that all he could hear was the nearby buzzing of insects.
The only thing that seemed to penetrate the wooded area was the wind, and the detective wondered if Officer Tim Harris might have been right.
Even a well-trained dog might not be able to pick up a scent.
But then Detective Williams felt a shiver of unease as he pushed even deeper into the stand of pine.
And that's when he smelled it, a very faint odor of decomposition.
Peering ahead in the gloom, he could just make out a slight mound of dead grass and pine needles leading right up to the trunk of a twisted pine tree.
And at the end of the mound nearest to him, Detective Williams could also just make out what looked like a wig made of brown hair.
Except it wasn't a wig.
It was Lorraine Hendrick's actual hair.
It would turn out that sometime during the four days since Lorraine had been murdered, inside of that median forest, some small animal had peeled away her scalp and dragged it about three feet away from where the rest of her body now lay nude violated, strangled and beaten under that pile of vegetation.
A minute later and Detective Williams had stumbled back out of the stand of trees into the narrow cut-through that highway troopers sometimes used to make a U-turn through the median strip.
Meeting up with his fellow investigator who had been drawn back from his own search by the sound of shouting and breaking sticks.
Detective Williams told his partner we can call off the search.
She's in there and she's dead.
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By 1 15 pm on Thursday, March 8th, the median strip on that stretch of I-95 through Indian River County was crowded with law enforcement and medical personnel.
The area around Lorraine Hendricks' badly decomposed body was cordoned with yellow crime scene tape.
Except for a single gold hoop earring found near her body, police found no trace of Lorraine's wallet or any of her clothing.
By 7 p.m. that night, the Vero Beach medical examiner was conducting Lorraine's autopsy.
Time of death was likely Sunday, March 4th, just a few hours after Lorraine had waved goodbye to her parents and Catherine before setting off on what should have been a routine trip to Fort Lauderdale.
The next day, newspapers across Florida headlined the story Missing Jacksonville Woman Found Murdered.
And not only did Detective Williams start receiving hundreds of tips from the public, but he also started hearing about how women all over Indian River County were now deeply scared.
One of those women was 27-year-old Sandy Wessendorf, the mother of two young children, who lived in an isolated area just 10 miles north of Vero Beach and not far from the site of Lorraine's murder.
Except that Sandy had actually been feeling scared for a long time.
Back in November of 1989, almost four months before seeing the headline about Lorraine's murder, Sandy had finally decided it was time to file for a divorce.
Bright, beautiful and completely inexperienced when it came to sex and relationships.
Sandy had met her future husband when she was just 16 and he was 21.
Although now, looking back to that time, if Sandy was truly honest with herself, she would have to admit that there had been problems right from the start.
He had been unfaithful and unreliable.
He flirted with her friends.
He called her names like slut and bitch, and her mother, who was very close to Sandy and to Sandy's two other sisters and one brother, just never liked her son-in-law.
And that was one big reason why Sandy had kept her marital problems very much to herself.
Unlike her mother, Sandy had been sure, when she got married at the age of 18, that all those problems would just go away.
Because when she did break up with him a year before their marriage, when it turned out he had a second serious girlfriend who also expected to marry him he had done everything he could to win Sandy back.
And, as always, Sandy had just found him too charming and handsome to resist.
Despite her own popularity and good looks.
Sandy was 5 foot 4 inches tall, slim and fit, with long blonde hair and green eyes.
Sandy had never been with another man before falling in love with her husband, so it took her a while to realize that the physical ways in which he controlled her were not necessarily common or normal.
There were the sharp pinches on the insides of her arms and her thighs, where no one would see the bruises.
There was the way he twisted her arm behind her back.
And lately how he had put his hands around her throat and told her quote I could snap your neck and kill you right now.
The last straw had been Sandy's birthday celebration.
He'd planned dinner out for the two of them on September 29th, exactly one week before her actual birthday.
Sandy had been excited.
They hardly ever went out, especially since their first child had been born back in 1983.
Sandy still remembered that event.
After she had gone into labor and asked her husband to take her to the hospital.
He had refused to drop her off at the door of the hospital.
Instead, annoyed that she had gotten him up so early in the morning, he had insisted on parking in the visitor's lot.
After watching her struggle out of the car, he told her, quote, "'You're gonna walk, bitch.'"
Their second child had been born two years later.
But still, Sandy had been excited about the birthday dinner and the children were excited about spending the evening with other family members.
But literally right after Sandy and her husband had gotten to the restaurant and their food had arrived, Sandy's husband looked up from his plate, stopped mid-chew and announced that he was seeing another woman.
Then he motioned to Sandy's own plate and told her to start eating or her dinner would get cold.
It would turn out that her husband had not just started having an affair.
He'd been involved with this woman for the last four years and Sandy had had no idea.
Although looking back, all the signs had been there.
The affair had started when Sandy was pregnant the second time and her husband always had things to do and places to be that took him away from home.
But Sandy had truly believed that, whatever their issues, both she and her husband had been absolutely faithful to each other.
In fact, to sandy that was the one thing keeping their marriage together.
Sandy had put up with her husband's abuse because she really did believe that deep down they must be each other's soulmates.
But now she had no reason to believe that and she knew she had to end the marriage.
But what Sandy hadn't expected was her husband's reaction to her decision to file for a divorce.
He had no intention of giving up his other woman, but there was no way he was going to give up Sandy either.
After that, things had gone from bad to worse.
On Valentine's Day 1989, she found out just how obsessive her husband had become.
When she had gone to her bookkeeping job that day, she discovered her boss waiting for her.
With a grim look on his face, he told her that someone she knew must have broken into their office, where they kept sensitive financial information, and gestured to the inside of the small room where she worked.
When Sandy looked through the door, she knew immediately that her husband must have made copies of her work keys and used them to enter the building the night before.
The space in front of her was crammed with white and red balloons.
Bursting into tears.
Sandy had turned around and gone straight home, knowing that she'd be lucky just to keep her job.
And she couldn't afford to lose that job.
Her husband could never seem to possess enough things.
Cars, trucks, boats.
He'd even talked about getting his own helicopter.
If Sandy hadn't been so good at managing money and juggling more than one job, they would have lost their house a long time ago.
And right after Sandy had walked through the door of that house on the afternoon of the balloon incident, She came face to face with her surprised husband.
Rushing past him, she locked herself in the bathroom, and it was then that she saw the tape recorder he had left sitting on the bathroom counter.
When she hit the play button, she realized with shock that he had been recording her incoming and outgoing phone calls.
When Sandy eventually stepped out of the bathroom carrying the tape recorder, her husband's face was a twisted mask of rage.
After that, Sandy found other tape recorders that he had left around the house, one in her bedroom and another hidden in the creases of the living room sofa.
Now, not even a month later, Sandy didn't even bother to remove these recording devices.
If she did, she knew he'd just find some other way to invade every private space in her life.
As darkness fell over Sandy's house in Citrus Hideaway and her two kids slept upstairs.
Sandy sat listening in her kitchen.
And, as she expected, it wasn't long before she heard the soft thump as her husband, who had been kicked out of the house, stepped carefully through the window of their son's upstairs bedroom.
For weeks now he'd been climbing from a low hanging porch roof up onto the second story and then into their upstairs.
Sandy didn't even bother to call out and tell him she knew he was up there and that she knew he'd been spending the night in that room for weeks because it wouldn't have done any good anyway.
Following the discovery of Lorraine's body, Detective Williams and his team tracked down dozens of tips and possible leads in the murder case.
There was the man in a yellow Oldsmobile who seemed to be following a female driver off of an I-95 exit.
There was a woman who reported that a man had tried to force her car off of I-95 and then had shot out her car window before speeding away.
One man who contacted the police telling them to be on the lookout for someone who trolled I-95 for stranded female motorists turned out himself to have had a prior conviction for rape, a set of handcuffs in his glove compartment and a rock-solid alibi.
But, despite spending hundreds of staff hours on this case, The only physical evidence they'd turned up that was in any way related to Lorraine's killing was on March 9th, when Vero Beach police were contacted by police one county over with a report that Lorraine's wallet that was missing the driver's license had been discovered in a rest area dumpster 20 miles south of where Lorraine's car had been found.
The wallet had actually been recovered before Lorraine's body had been found and ID'd, so police had not recognized its significance right away.
But any hope that the wallet could help ID the killer was short-lived.
Whoever had dumped it at the rest area had also wiped it completely clean of fingerprints.
Even as investigators and law enforcement from the police, sheriff's department and the Florida Highway Patrol joined forces to move the investigation along.
Detective Williams was also looking for any information on recent homicides that looked at all similar to Lorraine's murder and suspected rape.
But despite his best efforts, he just could not catch a break in this case.
On March 21st, 13 days after discovering Lorraine's body, the detective was once again pouring over all the tickets, warnings and other records of police activity in the area on March 4th and 5th, the day that Lorraine had been driving and the day that her car had been discovered.
It was during this second review that Detective Williams noticed a detail that he had overlooked the first time around.
Staring down at the piece of paper on his desk, Detective Williams picked up the phone and made a quick call that would correct his earlier mistake.
After hanging up the phone, he slid that particular piece of paper out of the pile.
What he had just found out didn't necessarily change anything, but it might be worth following up on later.
Meanwhile in the white stucco house on its lonely acre in Citrus Hideaway, things for Sandy were only getting worse.
Her continuing refusal to withdraw the notice for divorce that she had filed in late November had made her husband more and more angry.
At about 9pm on Sunday, March 25th, when Sandy was sitting in the living room of her house talking with two of her visiting neighbors, she heard the familiar thump of her estranged husband landing on the floor upstairs in their son's bedroom.
This time, Sandy jumped up and ran upstairs to confront him and told him that if he was going to come into the house, then he should come downstairs, because their neighbors knew he was there.
A few minutes later, he was sitting in the living room but was refusing to say a single word until the neighbors left, which they ultimately would.
But as soon as the door closed behind the neighbors, Sandy's husband exploded into action.
10 inches taller and 70 pounds heavier than his terrified wife.
He grabbed Sandy and dragged her across the room and up the stairs into the master bedroom where he had stashed a black vinyl bag.
Reaching in through the open zipper.
He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and then turned out the light.
Before Sandy could grasp what was happening, he snapped one of the cuffs around her wrist.
The click of the lock sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through Sandy's body, And before he could snap the other cuff onto her other wrist, she kicked out her legs from under her and brought both of them falling to the floor.
Their 10-minute struggle ended as her husband knew it would, with him gaining control over her.
Sandy had managed to keep her husband from putting the other cuff on her other wrist, but when he couldn't cuff her, he had just given up the idea and climbed directly onto her chest, pinning her down with one leg on either side of her and with her under him, unable to move.
He had reached into his black bag and pulled out a gun and pointed it at the side of her head and then, clenching his other hand into a fist, he started beating the carpet right next to the other side of her face.
Then he stopped and said, you are going to take me back.
But Sandy, in an act of defiance, shook her head, no.
Furious, her husband began hitting the floor next to her head even harder and told her with a menacing look that he was going to do this to her face if she didn't do what he said.
And it was at that point that Sandy knew she was not just facing rape or injury.
She was facing death.
Her husband was going to kill her if she didn't agree to take him back.
And so Sandy, who could barely breathe with the weight of her husband on top of her, told herself to stay calm.
And then she said, okay, I'll take you back.
And then, in a rush, she continued in a quiet and soothing voice, telling him that tomorrow they would have a little ceremony, just the two of them, and they would put their wedding rings back on and renew their marriage vows, and he could let her get up now and take off the handcuff and go back downstairs so they wouldn't scare the kids, and so she could get a drink of water.
A few minutes later, they were sitting together in the living room.
Sandy tried to keep her hands from shaking as she drank the glass of water he had handed her.
She could already feel the swelling around her wrist from where the metal handcuff had been.
Suddenly, her husband stood up from his seat on the sofa.
Without saying a word, he started to pull off his shirt and then unzip his corduroy jeans.
Sandy turned her head away, feeling her whole body tense in fear and revulsion at the sound of that zipper.
But when she looked back at her husband, the air suddenly seemed to be sucked out of her lungs, because the man staring back at her with dark, hungry eyes was wearing a pair of women's tan pantyhose and women's black lace underwear with a sheer panel in front.
Two days later, on March 26th, Detective Williams got several new pieces of information that would eventually break the stalled investigation into the murder of Lorraine Hendricks wide open.
Sitting at his desk.
That Monday morning the detective pulled out that piece of paper he had set aside five days earlier.
It was a traffic ticket about a warning someone had been given.
He read the information on it again and tracked down the phone number of the driver who had been given the warning on the morning of Sunday, March 4th, while driving over the speed limit on I-95 through Indian River County.
Then he picked up the phone and placed a call.
Later that same day, Detective Williams got a report about a domestic violence complaint that had been filed the day before at the nearby Sebastian Police Headquarters.
That evening, Detective Williams picked up the phone and made several more calls.
One of them was to a terrified young woman named Sandy Wessendorf, who agreed to meet with him the next day Tuesday, March 27, in the parking lot of a nearby high school.
Based on those phone calls, the meeting with Sandy, the medical examiner's report and the eventual confession of Lorraine's murderer.
Here is a reconstruction of what police believe probably happened to Lorraine Hendricks on the day she was killed.
Back on Sunday, March 4th, Lorraine was making good time as she headed down I-95 from Jacksonville to Fort Lauderdale.
Only two hours into her seven-hour trip.
She almost hated to stop, but she knew her parents would appreciate the call and she was looking forward to talking with her daughter Catherine, before Rick arrived at 11 am and took her back to his apartment.
So at about 10 am Lorraine pulled off the interstate at an Amoco gas station, topped off her fuel tank, then went to the ladies' room and then used the nearby payphone to call home.
When she pulled back onto I-95 South a few minutes later, Lorraine was smiling as she thought of how excited Catherine was to be spending the morning with her grandparents.
And this next part of her trip through Indian River County was especially beautiful.
So Lorraine put on her headphones and she bumped the volume up on her music and she settled in for a long stretch of driving.
About an hour or so later, Lorraine was driving around a slight curve on I-95 with a thickly wooded median on her left.
She was just thinking about how empty the road was when, out of nowhere, she saw a police cruiser appear in her rearview mirror.
Instantly her eyes dropped to the dashboard and she was relieved to see that she was driving roughly the speed limit.
But when she glanced in her rearview mirror again, she was surprised to see that the highway trooper had his lights on and was clearly waiting for her to pull over onto the shoulder.
This wouldn't be the first time that Lorraine, who was often teased for driving too fast, had been stopped by police.
But she was calm.
As the daughter of an army major, she had been raised to be both respectful and professional when it came to officers in uniform.
So, even though she wasn't sure why she had been stopped, she parked her car on the side of the road, she took off her headphones and by the time the highway patrol officer had reached her window, she had taken out both her driver's license and her car's registration.
But almost as soon as she looked up at the tall, muscular officer in his beige Stetson hat, Lorraine felt a sense of alarm.
He seemed agitated, and when he leaned down to look through her window she felt his eyes crawling all over her.
Later, when he had forced her into his cruiser and driven into the cut-through of the median strip, Lorraine still thought she could save herself.
But the German shepherd in the back of the cruiser was terrifying with its low growl and bared teeth.
And when the man had dragged her out of the cruiser, slamming the car door behind her, her relief at being away from the dog instantly changed to a different kind of fear.
Even with her now rusty skills in self-defense, Lorraine was completely off balance and before she could even react, her attacker was dragging her deep into the thickest part of the median strip forest, into a stand of pine and palmetto trees with a canopy of branches and leaves that was so thick even the bright Florida sun was blotted out.
And now the man was talking to her like she was someone else, his wife, a woman he called Sandy, who apparently was threatening to divorce him.
But he would never let that happen.
Undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, he shoved Lorraine down on the ground.
Even as Lorraine tried to talk to him, to tell him she understood he was hurting, that she was not the person he thought she was.
She wasn't Sandy.
He yanked her pants down and pulled her shirt and bra up over her chest and then, straddling her, he pinned her arms to her sides.
When he was finished, he turned Lorraine over one more time, so her battered face was pressed into the ground.
Then he placed her underwear around her neck and pulled it tight.
But it was the heavy force of his hands pressing down on her and breaking her slender neck that would finally kill her.
When Lorraine was dead, 32-year-old Highway Patrol officer Tim Harris the same Tim Harris who had offered to have his dog search the median forest for Detective Williams stripped off the rest of Lorraine's clothes and dragged her injured body even deeper into the trees.
Then he arranged Lorraine's body so she lay face down with her legs spread out around either side of a tree trunk in a sexually suggestive position.
Gathering her clothes and every possible piece of evidence of the crime he had just committed.
Tim covered Lorraine's body with dead grass and leaves and then returned to his police cruiser.
He would toss Lorraine's wallet at a rest area 20 miles south.
The only thing Tim missed taking with him was the gold hoop earring that police would later find not far from Lorraine's badly decomposed body.
It would turn out that on March 21st, when Detective Williams was reviewing the records of tickets, warnings and arrests that had been issued on March 4th, he realized that Highway Patrol Officer Tim Harris was not the officer who had been processing an arrest.
Instead, it had been Officer Mike Transue who had been processing that arrest using a serial number that had only recently been transferred from Tim to Mike, which meant that Tim Harris did not have an alibi for the morning of Lorraine's murder.
With that in mind, Detective Williams took a second look at a warning that had also been issued that morning to a motorist, at 1048am.
Now that he knew Tim Harris' new serial number, the detective realized that that warning had been issued by Tim Harris.
When Detective Williams called the driver who got this warning, he spoke to a young woman who insisted that she had not been speeding when she was pulled over at almost the exact same location where Lorraine's car had been found the next day.
The driver also said that the highway patrol officer who stopped her had also told her to get out of her car and walk backwards towards his vehicle.
Since the driver was almost eight months pregnant, the request, which seemed totally unnecessary and even creepy to start with, was also totally inconvenient.
But once the patrol officer noticed how pregnant the woman was, he immediately seemed to lose interest in her and in his accusation that she had been speeding.
When he handed her the warning he had written out, he even told her Oh, you can just throw that away.
It doesn't mean anything.
As Detective Williams considered this new information, he thought again about that stretch of I-95 and how an officer parked near that curve in the road would be able to look directly through the windshield of oncoming cars and spot women who were driving alone.
Detective williams believed that the woman who got the warning at 10 48 am was only saved because of her advanced pregnancy, that that was a turnoff to tim harris, And then, after the pregnant woman had gotten back in her car and left, the next solo woman driving around that curve was Lorraine Hendricks, and she would not be so lucky.
Digging deep into Tim's employment records, investigators would later find that he had been forced to resign from his first job with a tiny police force in Melbourne Florida, after complaints that he sometimes refused to give women their licenses back, forcing them to come to the station later to meet alone with him.
It was also rumored that he would offer to tear up a ticket or traffic violation in exchange for sex.
But it wasn't until March 26th, when Detective Williams saw the charge of domestic assault that Tim's estranged wife Sandy, had filed against her husband, that the investigator felt he had the leverage he needed to press Tim about his possible involvement in Lorraine's murder.
On March 27th, Detective Williams met with Sandy, whose maiden name was Wessendorf, in the high school parking lot.
After Tim's attack on her two nights earlier, she had taken her two kids to her sister and brother-in-law's house for protection.
After Tim had stripped off his clothes to reveal the women's lingerie he was wearing, Sandy had somehow been able to persuade him that they should wait to have sex until the next day after they renewed their wedding vows.
Sandy's brother-in-law, who was also a police officer, had told Sandy that she had to go to the police and that he would protect her.
So the next day, on March 26th Sandy, with her brother-in-law Don Dappin at her side, filed an assault charge and restraining order against Tim Harris.
Don Dappin then made sure that Detective Williams and Tim's commanding officer were both aware of the domestic violence charge, and then Don himself provided around-the-clock protection for Sandy and her kids.
Sandy would later locate the lingerie her husband had been wearing and she would give it to police.
But although Lorraine Hendricks sometimes wore a similar style of underwear, police did not find any physical evidence that that lingerie actually belonged to her.
On April 7 1990, almost one month to the day that Lorraine's body was found in the median strip along I-95, Tim Harris confessed to her murder.
Despite the medical examiner's report that showed that Lorraine had probably been beaten severely around her head and shoulders, Tim would insist it was Lorraine who had begged him to have sex with her.
He told investigators that she had been a nice person who sympathized with his anger over his wife divorcing him.
At some point he seemed to have snapped and the rage he felt towards Sandy he transferred to Lorraine.
Tim Harris insisted that he couldn't remember exactly when or why he had posed her dead body so suggestively around the trunk of the pine tree, any more than he could remember having forced Lorraine into his cruiser, commanded his dog to attack if she resisted, and then dragged her out of the cruiser and into the thicket of pine and palmetto trees where he raped and killed her.
On Friday, September 28 1990, Tim Harris avoided a jury trial and possible death sentence by appearing before a judge admitting that he had killed Lorraine Hendricks and pleading no contest to first-degree murder charges.
Tim Harris was sentenced to life in prison with a mandatory sentence of at least 25 years.
Even though the ex-Florida trooper became eligible for parole in 2015, as of today, he remains incarcerated at Hardy Correctional Institute in Bowling Green, Florida.
Thank you to crime writer Anne Rule, whose 1994 book titled You Belong to Me was our major source of information for writing this podcast.
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