The fishermen were looking for a good spot to fish in a stream running down a ravine in Boulder Canyon on July 1, 1982 when they came across a horrific scene.

They discovered the decaying body of a young woman who was covered only by a towel.

There were 11 knife wounds in her chest and two in her neck.

Susan “Susie” Becker, 20

Next to her right hand was a knife with a black handle. Tests would later determine that the knife was not the murder weapon.

A backpack was close by.

Boulder County sheriff’s investigators were called to the scene near the 32000 block of Boulder Canyon Drive.

Identification in the backpack indicated that the woman’s remains were those of Susan “Susie” Becker, a 20-year-old woman who was last seen by a friend on the morning of June 20, 1982.

Susan liked to hang out at the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder.

She often went on dates with two young men. Sparks were flying but not exactly the way Susan wished they would. She liked one of the boyfriends a lot, but he wasn’t that interested in her. The other friend liked her a lot but she didn’t feel the same way about him.

Friends described Susan as a free spirit.

She had grown up in Boulder and liked to smoke marijuana.

She was planning to travel to Idaho weeks after her disappearance for a gathering of the Rainbow family.

Raised a Catholic, Susan liked to listen to Nyabingi music, chanting and drum beats of the Rastafarian lifestyle.

Former Denver Police detective Lt. Jon Priest displays three binders he kept in his office that comprised a synopsis of 75,000 documents stored in police archives that were collected during investigations from the 1991 United Bank robbery. (Denver Post file)

5:04 a.m., Father’s Day, 1991.

An alarm sounds in the hallway of the subbasement at the United Bank building — now Wells Fargo — at 17th Avenue and Lincoln Street in Denver.

Something or someone in a storage room on the subbasement level triggered the alarm.

A light appears on a board in a monitor room on the Concourse level, one floor below street level.

William Rogers McCullom Jr., 33, or Phillip Lee Mankoff, 41, presumably turns the alarm off, almost immediately. The alarm was never turned back on.

At 7:30 a.m., guards from Wells Fargo and Loomis Armored Inc. arrive at United Bank to make weekend deposits from stores, bars and restaurants. Because of holiday gift buying the bags of money are heavier than most weeks.

Then at 9:14 a.m., a man standing at a door where freight is delivered into the building buzzes the guards.

He says he’s Bob Bardwell, the bank vice president, and needs to get in.

McCullom Jr., 33, who normally goes home at 7 a.m., is staying later along with Mankoff so that they can train Scott Raymond McCarthy, 21.

McCullom takes an elevator to street level to let the vice president into the building. According to bank policy, guards do not carry guns because of the belief they spark greater amounts of violence.

The man, appearing to be in his late 50s or 60s, enters the building. He is wearing a gray sports coat, a white shirt, a multi-colored necktie, blue or gray slacks, a brown fedora hat and mirrored sunglasses, and has a bandage on his left cheek.

The man pulls out a .38-caliber handgun and points it at McCullom.

He orders McCullom to take him to a storage area in the subbasement. They climb into a freight elevator and descend.

The gunman walks McCullum through a tunnel.

In a remote storage room of the subbasement the man posing as a vice president shoots McCullom three times in the head, once in the torso and once in the arm.

Glenwood Springs police trudged into the steep, rough hills searching late on June 16, 2002 — Father’s Day.

Tom Lubchenko, 56

Officers wearing night-vision gear looked for signs of the gunman.

K-9s sniffed the ground for signs of a man believed to be in his late 20s or early 30s.

The man was skinny and about 5-feet-10.

He wore over-sized goggles, a black ball cap and black jacket. He appeared to have a few days growth of facial hair.

Wal-Mart employee Tom Lubchenco, a 56-year-old artist, was then lying on the floor in the store room, bleeding to death.

Lubchenco had apparently caught the disguised intruder at about 11:30 p.m. hiding in a storeroom.

After shooting Lubchenco, the gunman struck another man in the head and took off running.

Other Walmart workers had chased the man through the aisles of the store, out through the parking lot and into the hills.

The first two of dozens of arson fires in Thornton destroyed vacant mobile homes in the Valley View Estates in May of 1979.

In November of 1979, a suspected serial arsonist set fire to the Valley View trailer park’s club house at 1201 W. 92nd Ave.

A fire in July 1980, also within the Valley View Estates, severely damaged another mobile home. Someone had used flammable liquids.

By October of 1982, 20 arson fires had been set in Thornton. Ten of the fires had been started in mobile homes.

Gary Nuetzmann worked at the Coors porcelain plant in Golden. He was divorced and had two sons, David and Michael, 4 and 1, respectively. The boys lived with their mother, Jackie Nuetzmann, a grade school teacher.

He took the boys for a visit home at trailer 220 in Valley View Estates while he was on vacation.

Timothy Dodson, 10, was the son of Nuetzmann’s second wife, Catherine Nuetzmann. He had a bedroom near the middle of the trailer.

On the morning of Oct. 20, 1982, a fire erupted in the living room around 3:20 a.m. Gary Nuetzmann was sleeping with his two sons in the front of the 64-foot trailer.

He ran to the back of the trailer to alert Catherine and her 8-year-old daughter Jennifer Dodson.

Gary Nuetzmann dashed back towards the front of the trailer to find the three boys. Neighbors recalled what happened next for Denver Post reporters.

“Get the kids! Get the kids!”

“It’s too hot,” Gary Nuetzmann yelled back.

He ran around to the front of the trailer and pounded on the front door, which was locked.

“Timmy is still in there,” Catherine Nuetzmann yelled.

Margaret “Mae” Sweet, 38

Margaret “Mae” Sweet had a secret life and an alias.

The Colorado Springs woman, who was 38, occasionally went by the alias Shelby Jamison when she was meeting people online.

It’s as much a mystery to her family as to anyone.

“There’s a lot about her life that I didn’t know about,” said Jim Egger, her father.

Whether the alias and her secret life had anything to do with her murder on Christmas Eve, 2008, is part of the cold case murder investigation.

On that night at 11 p.m., a neighbor on the 1300 block of Fosdick Circle in Colorado Springs heard an argument around 11 p.m. A man was yelling obscenities, the neighbor later would tell police.

Then a shot rang out. The neighbor did not call 911.

The next morning, Egger drove home after spending the night at the hospital with his wife.

He and his daughter had been taking turns staying with his wife Penny Egger, who was Sweet’s stepmother. Penny was recuperating at a hospital following surgery.

When Egger drove home in the darkness he spotted something odd beyond a white picket fence.

His daughter, who had been staying with him and his wife, was crumpled on the side of the porch with one leg in a basement window well.

Egger, who is a retired U.S. Air Force, ran to her body. Her skin was cold. Blood had pooled in the window well.

It was 5:50 a.m., Christmas day.

Albert Trevino’s pockets were loaded with cash that Spring of 1972, when Richard Nixon was making an historic trip to China.

Albert Trevino, 24

Trevino, a construction worker, had just received a large worker’s compensation claim.

The married pipefitter and father of two had been badly injured at work and had finally gotten his settlement.

The 24-year-old man, who lived at 103 Fox St. in Denver, cashed his check and went looking for a new car. It was an exciting time.

Trevino found the car he wanted and while he waited for the deal to be approved he openly flaunted his fat wad of cash to strangers he met on the evening of April 4, 1972.

Trevino wanted everyone he came into contact with to hear about his good fortune and so he rented a car and went bar-hopping along the East Colfax corridor.

According to Arapahoe County Sheriff’s investigators, he was “carelessly flashing a large sum of money around.”

“Somewhere along the line that evening, the wrong person took notice,” the sheriff’s report says.

At about 12:30 a.m. on April 5, Trevino entered the Newport Lounge on East Colfax Avenue.

“Once again, Albert flashed his money, loudly hailing anyone who would listen,” the sheriff’s report says.

The Newport Lounge had already had some drama that night.

Kathleen Garcia had just finished working a graveyard shift from 7 p.m. to 3 a.m., plus an additional hour of overtime.

Kathleen Garcia, 24

She and partner William Stoops patrolled an area bracketed by Federal and Sheridan boulevards from West 38th to West 52nd Avenues. Stoops was a veteran officer, assigned to train Garcia.

Garcia and Stoops had taken a late emergency call and didn’t check out of the District 1 police station at 2195 Decatur St. until 4:09, according to a news article by now-retired police reporter Harry Gessing, who had worked at The Denver Post for decades.

The 24-year-old rookie had been on the job for six weeks, having graduated from the Denver Police Training Academy on Feb. 6, 1981.

Garcia was a good worker, who was well liked and had nothing but good reports, Capt. Don Mulnix, who supervised Denver police detectives, told Gessing.

Garcia was a very idealistic police recruit, who had always dreamed of becoming a police officer. She was very serious about her work and didn’t complain about difficult hours or a challenging patrol area.

She was still dressed in her crisp new police uniform when she drove into the South Denver neighborhood where she had grown up and attended South High School.

Garcia was still living with her folks and three of her five sisters at 2398 S. Galapago, but had recently rented an apartment and was planning to move into the apartment in three days.

It hadn’t been that long since she had paid a lot of money for a large quantity of supplies she needed to enforce the law and to protect the public and herself.

Garcia had purchased a night stick, two guns, a flashlight and a leather holster and belt.

Garcia was proud of her accomplishments, her mother would tell Gessing.

After driving home early that morning, Garcia parked on the West Wesley Avenue side of her home about 20 feet from the front gate and opened her car door. It was 4:26 a.m. Saturday morning, March 28, 1981.

Someone darted up to her out of the darkness. There was a loud, brief argument, then a struggle.

Stanley Anita Moore, 22

Forty years ago The Denver Post had a feature similar to Denver Crime Stoppers.

The newspaper offered rewards for information leading to arrests of murder suspects, rapists and escaped convicts.

The program was called “Secret Witness.” As of April of 1972 the newspaper had offered eight rewards for information leading to arrests of tawdry suspects like the so-called “gentleman rapist.”

“This man is believed by police to have raped up to 100 women in the Denver area,” says a story about the reward in The Denver Post about the suspect believed to be between 19 and 30.

“He often threatens his victims with a knife, but has been dubbed a gentleman because he is polite, uses good grammar and expresses concern about the protection of his victims against pregnancy. He is described as white, soft-spoken, dark-haired with thin lips, long, thin fingers with long fingernails.”

On April 9, 1972, The Denver Post ran a Secret Witness story under the headline: Who Killed Mother of Sleeping Baby?

The story, which ran without a byline, appeared as follows:

In one corner of the dining room inside the little brick house were Christmas presents, gaily wrapped and ready to be placed beneath a tree.

Sleeping peacefully in her bedroom crib was a baby girl, named Shan Dale Simpson by her adoring mother.

On the floor of the bedroom of the small house at 2249 Lafayette St. was Shan Dale’s mother. She, too, was quiet. But she wasn’t sleeping.

She was dead.

The IvyWild Inn in southwest Colorado Springs was the last place Jo Anne Harris was seen alive other then by her killer.

Harris, who was 39, lived at 427 N. 30th St. She was estranged from her fourth husband, a city meter reader named Orla J. Harris.

They had gotten married in August of 1968 and were separated only a month later. Jo Anne had three children, ages 5 to 16, from previous marriages.

Jo Anne Harris, 39

She worked at United Supers, 505 Castle Road, wrapping meat.

On the afternoon of Monday, Oct. 13, 1969 around 3 p.m., a neighbor saw Jo Anne leave her house on foot.

She was wearing pink slacks, a pink sweatshirt, gold slippers and a blue windbreaker.

Jo Anne was a small woman, only 4-feet-11. She weighed 120 pounds and had green eyes and had shoulder-length auburn hair.

Witnesses saw her that night at IvyWild, which is about 5 miles northwest of her home.

Later that same evening, Jo Anne’s parents, who lived in Lakewood, called Colorado Springs police and reported her missing.

Weeks passed with no sign of Jo Anne.

Then on Sunday, Nov. 16, security officer Sgt. Alfred Guest was patrolling the perimeter of the underground North American Air Combat Operations Center (NORAD) and spotted a decaying body under a pine tree.

The body, lying on a rock pile 24 feet from a Cheyenne Mountain road leading towards NORAD, was only wearing a sweatshirt and jacket.

The body was dumped 2.3 miles west of Colorado 115 and about seven miles south of Colorado Springs.

In the fall of 1995 one brutal killer terrorized an apartment complex for elderly people in Colorado Springs, police believe.

Marjorie Mock, 96

The first victim was Rosa DeSalvo, an 86-year-old woman.

She lived in a one-bedroom apartment at the Citadel Village Apartments, 3431 Gallery Rd. She was in room number 107.

Someone had beaten her to death.

Her body was found on Sept. 6, 1995 at 8:40 a.m.

Two months passed.

This time the killer attacked an older woman — someone born in the 1800s.

Jonny Braning, 48

Jonny Braning did a hilarious impression of Elvis.

Though he was deaf and mute, the 48-year-old man had lived a full life.

The simple pleasures Jonny lived for — seeing his granddaughter and making people smile — were all taken from him between Feb. 26 and March 7, 2002, when someone bludgeoned him to death in his small Aurora apartment.

Robbery may have been the intent, according to a story by former Rocky Mountain News reporter Sarah Huntley.

But it was hard for investigators to understand why.

Jonny was living on disability and didn’t have much money, Huntley reported.

Over the years he had worked for King Soopers, Jolly Rancher and as a janitor for a telecommunications company.

But he was unemployed and lived on his monthly disability check. He would go to a corner store and write a note for a clerk when he needed something.

He lived in a small apartment at 1097 S. Evanston Way.

It appeared that whoever killed Jonny first attacked him in his bedroom, possibly with some type of blunt weapon, which was never found.

Apparently a battle continued into his living room.

His body was found lying on the floor in his living room by maintenance workers who became worried when they realized they hadn’t seen the man, who was a fixture of the complex, in days.

The carpet was soaked with blood.

Jennifer “Jenny” Douglas was a small girl for a 17-year-old.

But the ballerina’s size was likely due to her fitness. She was known to work out hours on end in the summer.

Jennifer Douglas, 17
(Courtesy of Familes of Victims of Homicide and Missing Persons)

Jenny was 5-feet tall and weighed only 87 pounds. She had blue eyes and blonde hair.

Jenny was at home at 2575 Albion Street when she called her mother, Ann, at work around 10 a.m. on July 16, 1984.

Jenny let her mother know that she was going for a bike ride on the Highline Canal. She was a serious biker who would often take rides as far south as Castle Rock. She could cover 60 miles in a single workout.

It wasn’t unusual for her to let her parents know what she was doing.

Jenny was very dependable, a good student at East High School and a devoted ballerina. She was excited about entering her senior year in high school that fall. The following week she was to appear in a ballet performance. She was looking forward to the event.

Jenny’s 13-year-old brother Jonathan saw her riding her bicycle at about 10 a.m., only a few minutes after Jenny spoke with her mother. She was riding her bike south on Albion, just after she left her home.

A janitor at Philips Elementary School, 6550 E. 21st Ave., saw her that Monday morning on Monaco Parkway. She was headed north on her brand new black Univega 12-speed bike.

The allegation of a cover up would force a police chief of Greenwood Village to resign and still haunts the case of homicide victim Lawrence Ocrant.

Lawrence Ocrant, 52

Residents of this upscale Denver community gossiped that the affluent 52-year-old stockbroker had not actually shot himself in the head on May 20, 1984, but that he was murdered.

On that Sunday morning, Sueann “Susie” Ocrant told police that she went into her bedroom to try and wake her husband but she couldn’t.

But there was a gun in his right hand and a bullet hole in his head. A .32-caliber slug was removed from his head during an autopsy.

Police called the death a suicide. Ocrant tested positive for gunpowder residue, and the case was quickly closed.

An old Father’s Day photograph convinced his two grown children that something wasn’t quite right.

Their misgivings would soon blossom into a full-blown murder mystery.

The snapshot showed Ocrant sleeping in the same position as his body was found. His right fist was tucked under his chin and his left arm was stretched out.

It was the clincher, according to an Associated Press account.

Constance “Connie” Marie Paris was — like many girls — hypnotized by the Beatles, so when John, Paul, George and Ringo played at Red Rocks on Aug. 23, 1964, she was in the amphitheater gasping for air and jumping up and down with five other Englewood High School freshman girls.

Connie Paris front, center looking at camera at 1964 Beatles concert
(Courtesy of Diane Riechert)

Paris loved to be around people and she was friendly to a fault. She had been in Campfire Girls and was very active at her church.

The vivacious girl liked to water ski. She studied hard enough to carry a 3.4 grade point average, but not so much that she missed out on school and church events. She joined the pep club and loved going to football games with a large group of friends.

Connie was a beautiful girl with a matching personality, said her friend Diane Riechert, who met Connie in the seventh grade and was a close friend through high school. When a group of girls got together and started making prank calls, Connie said they should be careful not to hurt anybody.

She loved to curl her “honey, wheat-colored” hair every night, her mother, Mary Lou Paris, 85, said. On one camping trip to Jackson Lake her daughter had to improvise. She used small metal orange juice cans as the curlers. She got so upset when mosquitoes swarmed around her all night.

On a Friday night, she recalled many times that Connie and her friends would come home from a football game and change their clothes in her house on Lincoln Street because of its proximity to the high school so they could go to a dance together.

In March of 1968, Connie was only two months from graduating from high school and had spoken about her plans to go to a community college and some day work in a medical research laboratory.

Connie had two younger brothers, Chris, then 15, and Jeff, then 10. Jeff loved his older sister, who would often come to his defense during squabbles with his older brother, Mary Lou Riechert recalled. Connie had a running competition with her dad, a post office carrier, over crossword puzzles.

Mary Lou Paris said she and her husband would never argue with each other in front of their three kids.

Connie had just been hired as a waitress at a restaurant with a Robin Hood theme at the Cinderella City shopping center. She had to wear a funky hat with a feather and moccasins.

Laurie Renee Lucas, 24

One thing I’ve noticed way too frequently since I began writing this blog six years ago this month: killers are often the stereotypical wolf in sheep’s clothing.

In 1990, 24-year-old Laurie Renee Lucas was seen with just such a wolf. Since Laurie parted with William James Bannister, she was never seen or heard from again by parents, acquaintances, neighbors or friends. She just vanished.

Bannister has a track record for ingratiating himself with people unfamiliar with his background, according to numerous news reports in Colorado and California.

Like many of his kind, he was always eager to help strangers, especially in caring for their children.

Bannister was a charming, deferential neighbor.

Overburdened with details like working and raising a child alone, sometimes people make mistakes about who they trust with the safety of their own children.

Bannister was a thin man. He had thick brown hair and a bushy mustache. In the winter of 1986, he lived in a trailer next door to Debra Ann Youngs and her 7-year-old daughter April in the Woodchuck RV Park in Temecula, California, which is 93 miles Southeast of Los Angeles.

“I had no indication of anything odd,” Youngs would tell a reporter nine years later. “He seemed very stable. Just a single father, raising a son.”

Bannister, Youngs and each of their children had shared turkey on Thanksgiving a few weeks before April’s disappearance. Bannister’s 12-year-old son Justin was often seen wearing a Civil War uniform complete with a sword.

On Dec. 13, 1986, Youngs had some car trouble. She and April hitchhiked 11 miles to the Temecula thrift store where she worked. Bannister, who had worked as a trucker and leathercraft worker when he wasn’t in prison, entered the store that day.

“He casually asked if I wanted him to take April off my hands,” Youngs told the reporter for The Press-Enterprise of Riverside, Ca. “I started feeling guilty. Here’s this poor little girl having to spend her day with me at work.”

Youngs asked her daughter what she wanted to do and April said she wanted to go back to the mobile home park that was also a camp ground.

The robbery reflected the times.

John Robert Bruns, 40

The unknown robber targeted a gathering place in Denver for men who had risked their lives for their country.

The day was Thursday, Feb. 17, 1972, a time when Democrat candidates for president were largely trumpeting their opposition to President Richard Nixon’s stance on the Vietnam War.

One candidate, Sen. George McGovern, told families of American prisoners in North Vietnam that if he was elected he would announce an immediate withdrawal of all U.S. forces from Indochina within 90 days, end support for the current Saigon government and then press for return of POWs.

Anti-war protests had turned into riots across the nation. Protesters called veterans returning home from tours in Vietnam baby killers at airports.

Nixon on that day was embarking on a trip to China to meet with Premier Mao Tse-tung.

40-year-old John Robert Bruns and his wife, Lorein, who lived on the 1100 block of Logan Street, had gone on a date at Lowry Post No. 501 of the Veterans of Foreign Wars.

The couple left the VFW club at 10:45 p.m. and walked to their in the car parking lot at 1825 Welton St.

A man walked into the lot from the east side, then circled back to the Bruns’ car, moved up along the left rear and swung open the door on the driver’s side.

A recent Denver police report indicates that Bruns did not recognize the man who suddenly opened his car door, according to a Denver Post article that ran on Feb. 18, 1972.

“Shortly after Mr. Bruns entered his vehicle, he was confronted by an unknown suspect,” the report says.

The last time anyone recalled seeing Audrey Elizabeth Hurtado was in Buena Vista on the evening of Thursday, July 27, 1977.

Audrey Elizabeth Hurtado, 17

Witnesses said she was walking with a young man described as 5-feet, 8-inches tall with a medium build and wearing a light brown afro-style haircut.

He appeared to be in his early 20s.

Hurtado had met the young man at a Buena Vista park that evening.

The 17-year-old girl lived in Cokedale, just west of Trinidad and 183 miles southeast of Buena Vista.

At first, police believed Hurtado had run away from home. Although she had been reported as missing there hadn’t been a search by authorities.

But when her body was discovered late Saturday morning, July 29, in a wooded field on the outskirts of Buena Vista, the case immediately became a homicide investigation.

She had been stabbed numerous times in the arms, chest and stomach.

Hurtado’s body was fulled clothed.

The next day, Sunday, July 30, 1977, Deputy District Attorney Doug Anderson said the prime suspect was this unidentified man seen with Hurtado on Thursday evening.

She was seen with him in the afternoon and then in the evening someone saw her taking a walk with the young man.

“It may be nothing; it may be something,” Anderson was quoted as saying in an Associated Press article that appeared in The Denver Post on Aug. 1, 1977.

Anyone with information that could held solve Hurtado’s case is asked to call the Buena Vista Police Department at (719) 395-8654.

Denver Post staff writer Kirk Mitchell can be reached at 303-954-1206 or twitter.com/kmitchelldp. Mitchell’s book “The Spin Doctor” is available now from New Horizon Press.

Dequincy Janeah King was only 19 when he went to Pansan’s Sports Bar at 3:15 E. Arvada St. in Colorado Springs on Jan. 23, 2004.

Dequincy Janeah King, 19

The bar remained opened after 2 a.m. because it had hosted an after-hours party, according to a Colorado Springs Gazette article.

Exhausted, King told family and friends he was going to go outside and sleep in the car until the party was over. That was at 2:40 a.m.

The car was parked in the parking lot of a nearby apartment complex that had been known as a base for prostitution and drug dealing.

His friend went out 10 minutes later to check on Dequincy and he was doing fine.

At 3:20 a.m., he checked on him again and he was okay, according to a Colorado Springs police report.

But a half hour later, the friend saw blood on his face.

She rushed him to Memorial Hospital and left him bleeding at the emergency entrance of the hospital at about 4 a.m.

Doctors pronounced Dequincy dead at 6:15 p.m.

Dequincy had moved to Colorado Springs a week earlier to find a job to support his wife and stepchildren.

No arrests have been made in his case.

Anyone with information that could help solve this murder is asked to call the Colorado Springs Police Department at 719-444-7613 or send an email to CSPDColdCase@springsgov.com.

Denver Post staff writer Kirk Mitchell can be reached at 303-954-1206 or twitter.com/kmitchelldp. Mitchell’s book “The Spin Doctor” is available now from New Horizon Press.

Usually the passage of time weakens cold homicide cases. Key witnesses die or move away, evidence is misplaced and memories fade.

Kimberly Greene-Medina, 19

But in one significant way it was easier to prove Kimberly “Kimmy” Greene-Medina was murdered this past week than it would have been if the case had gone to trial in 1996: it proved that the 19-year-old mother wasn’t just missing, but dead.

A jury found Michael J. Medina guilty Friday of murdering his wife Greene-Medina. He was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

Two prosecutors in District Attorney George Brauchler’s office took the case against Medina to trial despite some big holes in the case.

John Kellner, a deputy district attorney in Brauchler’s newly formed cold case unit, and Cara Morlan, also a deputy district attorney, didn’t have a body, a weapon, a murder scene or an eye witness to help prove their case.

“It wasn’t just not having a body but it was also the complete lack of a crime scene as well,” said Kellner.

Kimmy’s remains have yet to be found. There was little or no physical evidence confirming a story of how she died.

Greene-Medina’s family and friends had long said she would never abandon her two young daughters, then 2 and 3 years old. But it still could have happened.

Kellner and Morlan studied cases around the country in which prosecutors took murder cases to trial without a body.

“There weren’t a lot of cases but there were some,” Kellner said.

Among the cases they reviewed was the murder of Kristina Tournai-Sandoval on Oct. 19, 1995 in Greeley.