I stop the podcast and call Merrick.
“You okay?” I say.
“Yeah, why?”
“I was just listening to the podcast and heard about the threats.”
“Oh, yeah. We’re fine. That was a while back. Reggie looked into it. Think you were away helping your dad with the Bundy case or something.”
“What’d she find out?”
“Nothing. We’re being extra careful. Think it’s just an internet troll who took it too far. Looks like the pictures and footage in the video is all from Facebook and other online places, but the way he edited it, it looks like he shot it and was stalking us. It’s crazy how many crazies there are around this case, man. And I have no doubt some of them are truly dangerous—hell, it could even be Randa’s killer for all we know. It’s Daniel I feel bad for. Just him and Sam in that big, secluded house in Tallahassee.”
“We’ll figure something out for them,” I say. “And we’ll try to get to the bottom of who’s behind it. Be extra careful until then.”
“Dan and I both got concealed carry permits.”
“Then be even extra, extra careful,” I say.
He laughs. “We will. Reggie says her money’s on one of us shooting ourselves before this is all over.”
When we disconnect, I tell Anna what he said.
“Who would have the motive to do something like that besides the killer?”
“Could truly just be a crazy. We need to find out. Want to listen to more or did you get sleepy?”
“Please, sir, I want some more,” she says in her best British accent, which isn’t very good.
“It’s interesting how bad that was and how turned-on I am,” I say, and start the podcast again.
“So what do we actually know about Randa Raffield’s family?” Merrick says.
“Before we get into that,” Daniel says, “we should clear something up that seems to be causing a lot of confusion. There’s a Raffield Fisheries located in Port St. Joe just a few miles from where Randa went missing. And some people believe she was headed there—or to see some of the Raffields in the area. They’re a big family in Port St. Joe. But Randa Raffield isn’t related to any of the Raffields that live in Port St. Joe.”
“Again, one of the biggest theories floating around online is that she was related to them and on her way to see them,” Merrick says, “but it’s just incorrect. She is no relation to the Raffields of Port St. Joe.”
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s talk about her family,” Daniel says. “Randa’s mom and dad, Lynn and Jerry Raffield, divorced when she was fifteen—something that by all accounts was very difficult for her.”
“Yes,” Merrick says. “Until that happened she was a straight-A student, a star swimmer for her high school, a very happy, carefree young woman.”
“And it wasn’t like she completely changed after her parents split up.”
“Not at all. She just lost her way a little. Wasn’t as happy. Didn’t make as good of grades. Got into a little trouble here and there. Again, nothing major, but enough to contrast how she had been before.”
“Randa grew up in Fort Walton Beach,” Daniel says. “After the divorce, she and her mom, who by the way didn’t change her name and didn’t plan to until Randa was grown, stayed in Fort Walton, while Jerry, her dad, moved out to Seaside.”
“Seaside of The Truman Show fame,” Merrick says.
“Yes, the planned community along 30A where Jim Carrey’s movie The Truman Show was shot. A place Merrick and I couldn’t afford to live.”
“No doubt,” Merrick says. “Now think about this, on the night she disappeared, Randa, who was supposed to be in Atlanta, had to pass by both her mom’s place and her dad’s place on her way to wherever she was heading.”
“That’s right,” Daniel says. “I never thought of it quite that way. But you’re—but how do we know she didn’t stop?”
“Just going by the official statements. Neither parent saw her that night—according to them. And we know her mom was on the phone with her at the time of the accident, but she thought it was in Atlanta or on the way back.”
“So . . . Randa’s mom is a minister at a small New Thought church called Unity of Fort Walton,” Daniel says. “She’s been there a long time—most of Randa’s childhood and adolescence. She took a short break after Randa disappeared but is still the minister there.”
“New Thought? What is that?”
“A relatively recent philosophical and spiritual movement that says stuff like Infinite Intelligence is supreme, universal, and everlasting, that divinity dwells in everyone, that the highest spiritual principle is love, and that most of our problems and issues are a result of the shit we think.”
“Gotcha. Okay. Now . . . Jerry Raffield is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice and he writes pop psychology books of the self-help variety. We should note that his mom left him the house in Seaside and some money when she passed away, which is how he’s able to afford to live there.”
“From what we can gather,” Daniel says, “it looks like Lynn wanted the divorce and Jerry didn’t, but still, he felt bad for how it affected Randa and tried to make it up to her in a variety of ways.”
“He indulged and pampered her,” Merrick adds.
“Looks like it, yes. And we’ll get into that more when we look at Randa’s background and its possible impact on what happened to her.”
“We’ll try to suss out any clues that might help us solve the case,” Merrick says. “Not only in her background, but specifically in the weeks and days leading up to her disappearance.”
“Yes, she had a lot going on,” Daniel adds. “Which may be suggestive.”
Anna taps my arm and I stop the podcast. “You falling asleep?” I ask.
“No, not yet. Just wanted to say, don’t you think Merrick and Daniel are doing a great job? It’s so smooth and conversational, so easy to listen to.”
“Really is,” I say. “Merrick was saying to me given the state of journalism and the crisis in print media, he thought that this part of his life was over and he didn’t know what he was going to do. I think this is a perfect fit for him.”
“And it’s got to be good for poor Daniel,” she says.
“Speaking of . . . Given the threats they’re receiving and how much is on him in taking care of Sam, I’m gonna see if he’d move over here, closer to us, closer to Merrick and Reggie, Merrill and Zaire, even Dad and Verna—figure we could all keep an eye on them and help him with her.”
“That’s a great idea. Think he will?”
“If we find the right situation for them. I’m looking.”
“Let me know what I can do,” she says.
Though my first inclination is to say she has enough on her with taking care of a baby and sometimes a young child, I recall what she said earlier about feeling restless and instead say, “I will. I’ll need your help.”
“Just name it.”
“I will. Thanks. Want to listen to some more or are you—”
“Think I’m too sleepy now,” she says, trying to stifle a yawn. “You go ahead. I know you need to get through it as quickly as you can. I’ll catch up tomorrow while Taylor naps.”
I lean over and kiss her goodnight, then retrieve my headphones from the table, and in the darkness of our bedroom with my future wife sleeping next to me, dive back into the rabbit hole that is the Randa Raffield case.
9
“Jerry and Lynn Raffield have not only contradicted each other, they’ve contradicted themselves,” Merrick says.
“They’ve both made similar statements, believed similar things—but never at the same time—and they’ve both changed what they initially said they thought it was.”
“Jerry’s first statements indicated he thought Randa intended herself harm, that whatever she was doing on that barren stretch of 98, wherever she was headed, it was to end her life.”
“And there were items in her car that suggest he
might be right,” Daniel adds. “We’ll get into that in our ‘Randa’s Car’ episode, but I just wanted to mention that there is some other evidence—both in Randa’s behavior and things in her car—that indicate Jerry might be right.”
“Yes, and we’ll get to those very soon,” Merrick says. “As for Lynn, she first said that Randa had confided in her that she thought she might be being stalked and she, Lynn, was convinced that someone took her daughter. Said Randa had no intentions of doing herself harm. And here again . . . there is indeed evidence that indicates maybe Randa was being stalked. She was definitely having guy problems.”
“So,” Daniel says, “the question is, who knew more about their daughter at the time of her disappearance?”
“You would think a distinguished psychologist would know if someone was suicidal,” Merrick says, “but your own family members are often the most difficult to diagnose.”
“And in general,” Daniel says, “I’d expect a daughter that age to be closer to her mother. Maybe she had confided things to her that she hadn’t yet shared with her dad.”
“But there is some question about whether she was close to either one of them at the time she vanished.”
“Some of her friends said she had withdrawn from everyone but her boyfriend—including her parents—which . . . I mean . . . she passed by both of their places that night without stopping to see either one, so . . .”
“As far as we know,” Merrick adds.
“Yes, as far as we know. But then both her parents seemed to change their story.”
“Yes,” Merrick says. “So, at first Jerry indicated Randa intended to harm herself, but then the very next day, he made statements to the media that his daughter was missing, someone had her, and he criticized the Gulf County Sheriff’s Department for not doing more to find her and get her back.”
“Some have theorized that Jerry changed his story because someone had convinced him that law enforcement would do more to find an abducted girl than one who went off to do herself in.”
“And that’s probably right,” Merrick says. “But that’s just a guess on our part. We don’t really know. Maybe Jerry learned something else about this daughter that made him change his mind. Maybe Lynn convinced him. Maybe he . . . who knows.”
“Then later,” Daniel says, “both parents seemed to suggest that they thought both scenarios were possible. Lynn made statements that seem to indicate she was at least open to the idea that her daughter wanted to harm herself—though she said if she did it was because of her stalker and not because of the other reasons and theories people believe about Randa and her compromised mental state.”
“Eventually, Jerry too indicated that it could be either—though it really did seem that whatever one parent said, the other would contradict, that they would go back and forth like that.”
“But,” Daniel adds, “eventually they both stopped communicating with the press or police. They each were on one of those true crime TV shows at about the five- and ten-year marks, though different shows, but nothing since and nothing in between. And they both have attorneys that do all their speaking for them.”
“Which,” Merrick says, “has caused some to suspect them—and not just because of that, but different things about them and the way they’ve acted. But those are just theories and rumors. No law enforcement agency has ever indicated Jerry and Lynn were suspects.”
“But here’s perhaps the strangest thing about them and why so many people familiar with the case say something is off about Jerry and Lynn,” Daniel says. “They had a very large life insurance policy on their daughter, who, we should remind everyone, was their only child.”
“And when could they collect on that policy?” Merrick asks.
“That’s where it gets very interesting,” Daniel says. “In most states, a missing person can be declared dead—I think the legal term is something like death in absentia—after seven years, though in some states it’s shorter. As short as four years, but for most it’s seven. It’s even shorter if the missing person was in a situation that involved what they call imminent peril—like a plane crash, a bad storm, or terrorist attack. But in the vast majority of cases, it’s seven years.”
“Are there a lot of these type cases?” Merrick asks.
“I believe estimates are that there have been somewhere between fifty thousand and one hundred thousand in the US.”
“And what has to happen for a missing person to be declared dead?” Merrick asks.
“An interested party, such as the parents in this case, has to petition the court to declare the missing person dead by assumption. There are several criteria that have to be met—such as the person’s absence has to be continuous and inexplicable. Like they didn’t just run away from money problems, impending indictment, or a bad relationship. There can have been no communication from the person. And a search for the person has to have taken place—a diligent search and investigation into the person’s whereabouts.”
“And were all of those criteria met?”
“Yes. Almost five years ago now.”
“And did Jerry and Lynn have their daughter declared dead?”
“No, they did not,” Daniel says. “Which begs the question, why have this huge life insurance policy on a child and then not collect on it when you’re legally entitled to?”
“Yeah, that is . . . Jerry and Lynn are interesting people. Wish we could talk to them. Wish they were still talking to anyone. But that’s not the end of the story, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” Daniel says. “Randa’s parents didn’t petition the court to have her declared dead, but someone else did. And we’ll talk about who on our next show.”
10
When I open my eyes the next morning, Anna is looking down at me, her big brown eyes bright and sparkling with desire.
“Feel like making love before you get ready for work?” she asks.
“Is that a trick question?”
“I woke you up a little early so we could.”
“How much early?” I ask.
“Just fifteen minutes.”
“Then we don’t have any time to waste.”
We didn’t waste any time in starting our day in the very best way possible.
Afterward, she walks in as I shower.
“How far’d you get last night?” she asks.
“On the podcast? Just another episode.”
“So you ended not knowing who petitioned the court to declare Randa dead? How could you go to sleep not knowing?”
“Actually think I fell asleep before the end of that episode. Not sure, but think the outro music and credits coming on woke me up.”
“Can I tell you? Can I tell you?”
“Who petitioned the court? Of course.”
She pulls back the shower curtain and sticks her head in.
“How long have you been up?” I ask.
“Which time? This last time since about five.”
“Sorry.”
“I love it. It’s my job. Plus, the chance to help you with this has me energized like a mofo.”
“So who petitioned the court?” I say.
“Scarlett George.”
“What is a Scarlett George?”
“A suspect, in my book,” she says.
“Who is she? Is it a she?”
“She is Lynn Raffield’s sister, Randa’s aunt. She’s estranged from the family—bet you anything there’s a story there. She wasn’t allowed around Randa. There’s all kinds of speculation about her online, but I’m just beginning to look through it.”
“Would you mind seeing what else is out there?” I ask. “Online, I mean. Blogs. Podcasts. Reddit groups.”
“Already on it. We’ll have a lot to talk about at dinner.”
“Thank you.”
“And I think I found a place for Daniel and Sam to stay.”
“Randa drove a 2004 deep green pearl Honda Accord EX sedan,” Merrick is saying. “She got it in the fall of 2004
as a gift from Jerry Raffield, her dad, so it was just a few months old the night she vanished.”
I’m driving south on 71 toward work, listening to another episode of Merrick and Daniel’s podcast, a sausage biscuit and Diet Coke my only companions.
“Today on the show we’re going to talk about Randa’s car and what was in it,” Daniel says.
“Daniel, has anyone, including your parents, ever just given you a brand new car?”
“No, Merrick, I’ve never had that particular experience. How about you?”
Merrick laughs. “No, me neither. So . . . not only is it an enormous gift and shows how indulgent Jerry could be, but from what we’ve gathered, Randa really didn’t need a new car when he got it for her.”
“She was driving a relatively new 2002 aspen green pearl Toyota Camry at the time, which he had also gotten her new, and there was nothing wrong with it.”
“What is it with this girl and green cars?” Merrick says.
“They’re not just both green. They’re practically the same car.”
“That’s true. They’re very, very similar cars. Easy to mistake for each other. So a few more points about the car. It was new. There was nothing wrong with it. It was drivable after the accident. So there was no need to call the police or a wrecker service.”
“So why did she?” Daniel says.
“She didn’t,” Merrick says.
“No, I know she didn’t make the calls. I’m saying why did she tell Roger Lamott she called a tow—but beyond that, why get out of a drivable car and stand on a dark highway at night when you could’ve kept driving?”
“Why not get back into it the moment Lamott pulls off and drives away?” Merrick says. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless,” Daniel says, “she was just so upset, so shaken up from the accident that she didn’t realize she could just drive away.”
“Or she was dazed and out of it because she smacked her head on the steering wheel or window or something and was just confused.”
COLD BLOOD (a John Jordan Mystery Book 13) Page 5
