Very interesting update on unsolved double murder of 2 17 y.o.AL girls,found shot to death inside the trunk of one gal's car,a YEAR ago,still NO prosecutions,pigs have tried to RAILROAD several "suspects",but lack of DNA match,saved them prosecution
Joe1orbit
A case like the one below, shows how TOTALLY impotent the cops are,
especially in the case of CUNNING killers who target STRANGERS and do not make
any significant tactical mistakes.
It has now been an ENTIRE year since two 17 year old Alabama girls, trying to
get home after attending a party, were found SHOT to death, both of their
bodies left in the TRUNK of their OWN car. Despite an intensive police
investigation AND some leads that looked fairly promising, NOBODY has been
arrested or charged in this case, and it does not sound as though pigs are
anywhere near making an arrest.
The trail is ICE cold. I believe that investigators focused on the theory
that the killer KNEW these two gals, was "involved" with at least one of them,
and that allowed the actual killer, who probably had never seen either girl
before the night of the double murder, to make a clean getaway. The TRAIL is of
course ICE cold by now, and nothing short of a miracle, or a HUGE tactical
error by the killer, is likely to lead to an arrest.
The two rather long articles below provide a great recap of the investigation
thus far, and they show what a HUGE impact this double murder has had on the
local community, as FEAR continues to run rampant, especially with no arrest
having been made.
There is GROWING speculation that because this killer carried out this double
harvesting with such apparent smoothness and ease, that he MUST have killed
BEFORE, and may well be a SERIAL killer. Certainly an exciting thought, and
very possibly true. But I also realize that there are PLENTY of people smart
enough to KNOW how vital it is to do a PERFECT job from the very first time
onward, when there is so MUCH at stake, a predators ENTIRE future, his very
LIFE, depends upon the perfect, errorless execution of his plot of criminal
vengeance. You DON'T get any second chances, there is no "pre-season", in the
KILLING game.
It is interesting that initial reports stated there was NO rape or sexual
assault. Instead, each was simply shot ONCE, fatally, in the head or face. NO
other WOUNDS or injuries were on their bodies. This killer was therefore VERY
CONTROLLED in his actions. He simply wanted to KILL his victims, he didn't care
about their sexual orifices, or mutilating them. I think a serial killer who IS
totally controlled, who does NOT let any "emotions" affect how he treats his
victims, has a REAL tactical advantage over serial killers who "lose control"
of themselves, no matter how brief the loss of control may be. BUT, recently
the coroner HAS stated that semen was found on the underwear of one of the
gals.
Very exciting to KNOW that this killer IS almost certainly still free. There
have NOT been any other SIMILAR murders in the area, over the past year, in
terms of modus operandi.
Take care, JOE
The following two news articles both appear courtesy of the 7/23/00 online
edition of The Mobile Register newspaper:
July 23, 2000
Killer still on the loose, baffles police
07/23/00
By RICHARD LAKE
Register Staff Reporter
OZARK, Ala. - The oddest thing I've ever seen, the small-town police chief
called it.
The strangest investigation I've ever worked, noted the chief of detectives.
Bizarre, commented the veteran defense lawyer. And then he added this: There is
one thing about it. The killer was very careful. Whoever did it, this was not
the first time.
First time or not, people here are still asking themselves, almost a year
later: Who killed J.B. and Tracie?
Theories and rumors abound about who could have committed the 1999
execution-style killings of the popular, pretty Dothan 17-year-olds Tracie
Hawlett and J.B. Beasley.
Police discovered the girls last summer in the trunk of J.B.'s black Mazda 929.
Tracie had been shot once in the head, J.B. once in the cheek. They were
otherwise uninjured.
Investigators have conducted more than 500 interviews, overworked forensics
experts have tested the DNA of more than 70 potential suspects, and a grand
jury has refused to indict the only man arrested in the case.
A murder mystery worthy of fiction has gripped southeast Alabama's Wiregrass
region, named after the robust turf that once covered its rolling hills. The
mystery turns 1 year old next week.
According to police and family members, J.B. and Tracie were supposed to go to
a party for J.B.'s 17th birthday on July 31, 1999, the last Saturday night
before school started. The party was taking place in Headland, about 10 miles
north of Dothan.
The girls got lost along the way and ended up at the Big/Little convenience
store in Ozark, a largely military town of 17,000 about 20 miles outside of
Dothan.
From the store - the kind of cookie-cutter mini-mart that could just as easily
have been in Miami or New York as in a small Southern town - Tracie used a pay
phone at the end of the building to call her mother. It was 11:35 p.m. and she
said she'd be home shortly, but the girls never made it.
Around 8 the next morning, at the same time Tracie's parents were reporting the
disappearance to Dothan police, an Ozark police officer discovered J.B.'s Mazda
parked along the side of Herring Avenue, a block away from the Dale County
hospital.
That stretch of road contains no houses and is flanked by dense woods on both
sides. It is dark in the daytime and near pitch-black at night. It's less than
a mile from the Big/Little convenience store.
The driver's-side window was rolled down a few inches and the door was unlocked
when the officer found it.
But, police say, there was no obvious sign of a struggle. The girls' driver's
licenses were still in the car, as were their purses. The only thing missing -
besides the girls - was the car keys J.B. carried on a chain made up of tiny
block letters reading "HARD2GET."
No one thought to open the trunk.
A sergeant contacted Lt. Rex Tipton, the chief of detectives with the Ozark
Police Department, and told him about the discovery.
"I don't know why I'm bothering you," Tipton remembered the sergeant saying.
"But something about this feels funny."
Tipton, 35, told the sergeant to keep an eye on the car, figuring that
teen-agers may have left it there after a night of partying.
Tipton - a pilot, skydiver and bungee jumper and 15-year veteran officer who is
not easily rattled - said that was not unusual.
The sergeant ran the car's license plates and discovered that it was registered
in Dothan, the region's largest city with just under 60,000 people. He
contacted police there.
The Dothan police told Tipton they were just then taking a missing person's
report from Tracie's parents.
Tipton reiterated his order to keep an eye on the car.
"At that point," he said in an interview this month, "I didn't think about
popping the trunk. There was nothing to indicate anything was wrong."
Hours passed with no sign of the girls. By lunchtime, Tipton had become
worried. Dothan police sent an investigator, who planned to have the car towed
back to Dothan.
As officers waited for a tow truck, the Dothan investigator noticed that he
could open J.B.'s trunk with an inside lever; the missing keys weren't needed.
Six hours had passed since the discovery of the car. It was nearing 2 p.m. when
he popped the trunk.
Inside were two dead bodies and a single 9mm shell casing.
Police were stumped almost from the beginning. When state and county detectives
joined the hunt, more than 50 investigators were working on the case in a city
with just 45 officers on its force.
And the rumors flew: A police officer must have been involved; why else would
the girls have stopped? The girls stumbled into something they shouldn't have
seen, perhaps a drug deal. Or maybe the killings had something to do with the
party they apparently never made it to.
Police investigated every rumor, Chief Tony R. Spivey said in an interview this
month. Each was eliminated as a possibility.
"We've wasted a lot of man hours chasing rumors," said the chief, a man with a
buzz-cut, wire-rim glasses and a no-nonsense look that belies his friendly
handshake and open demeanor. "But you have to do it."
An FBI suspect profiler was brought in. But the profile revealed nothing
dramatic, Spivey said. The profiler said the killer most likely was a young
male who could be described as a loner.
An autopsy revealed that the girls had not been raped and had no alcohol or
drugs in their bodies. One person reported seeing the Mazda parked along
Herring Avenue as early as 3 a.m., but other people disputed that.
These revelations, along with the fact that nothing - not the girls' jewelry,
not their purses, not their spending money - was missing besides the car keys,
puzzled investigators in their search for a motive.
The killings so outraged regular folks throughout the Wiregrass region that
they pooled cash and posted a reward. Within weeks, they had raised more than
$15,000, and Gov. Don Siegelman kicked in another $10,000 in state funds.
As local newspapers and television stations spread pleas for help, it seemed
police got their first big break a month into the investigation.
A 28-year-old part-time mechanic with a young wife and 2-year-old son came to
their attention. Johnny William Barrentine lived just eight-tenths of a mile
from where police found the bodies.
On Sept. 1, Barrentine met with police and told his story during a four-hour,
videotaped interview.
Barrentine, according to Spivey, said he had gone out for milk at 11:30 - about
the same time that J.B. and Tracie were on the telephone with Tracie's mom.
At first, according to the chief, Barrentine said that on the night of the
killings he'd seen a black truck speeding away from the area where the girls
were found.
As the interview wore on, Barrentine changed his story several times, finally
telling investigators that he'd picked up a man he didn't know and the two
drove by the Big/Little store.
Barrentine said the man he'd given a ride got into a car with two girls - who
Barrentine identified as the dead girls - and told him to follow. He said they
ended up on Herring Avenue. The man got the girls out of the car. Barrentine
said he soon heard two gunshots and the man returned. Barrentine gave the man a
ride away from the scene, then went home.
Police arrested Barrentine then and there, charging him with two counts of
capital murder.
Their suspect, whose police mug shot makes him look like he might have just
been startled from a slumber, immediately said he'd fabricated the whole story
in hopes of scoring some quick cash.
"I didn't see anything," he later told a grand jury. "I made up everything to
get the reward money."
"He says he was there," Police Chief Spivey said, explaining what made
Barrentine a suspect. "He relayed to us about getting the girls out of the car.
One of the girls ran. The girls were combative. The individual placed the girls
in the trunk. Two shots were fired. The gunman comes back to the car. Something
is in his hand. He drove the gunman outside the city. He returned home."
Spivey said the district attorney, who was present during the interview,
instructed police to arrest Barrentine.
"What do you do?" the chief said in an interview this month. "If you don't
charge him, maybe you just let a killer walk out the door. You're between a
rock and a hard place."
Barrentine's lawyer has since advised him not to speak with reporters.
A judge denied bond and appointed 36-year veteran lawyer Bill Kominos to
represent Barrentine.
Barrentine's friends and family stood by him, professing his innocence to
anyone who would listen.
"He did not do it," his mother, Faye Barrentine, adamantly told reporters the
day after her son's arrest. "He's not capable of doing it."
Kominos, interviewed this month in his Ozark office, said his client had
obviously stumbled into a situation with investigators he wasn't capable of
handling.
"As a lawyer, you need to take what your client says with a grain of salt
sometimes," he said, speaking in slow, measured tones, his hands held together
almost as if he were praying. "But I had a feeling from the very beginning, in
viewing the car, in viewing the evidence, I said to myself, 'No. Johnny
Barrentine could not have done this.'"
The police were under intense pressure to make an arrest, Kominos contended.
And that pile of reward money kept growing.
It grew enough to lure Barrentine in, Kominos said.
"Well, they started. They questioned. And questioned. And questioned. Four
hours," the lawyer said, punctuating each sentence with a moment of silence.
"It's all on video and the questions turn from questions to accusations. From
accusations to suggestions."
Then, more than two months into the case, a stunning revelation came from the
state forensics lab: They found semen on J.B.'s bra and panties.
"That just threw a totally different twist on it," said Spivey, recounting his
reaction to the news. "You mean to tell me that 70 days into this, now you're
telling me that?"
For the first time since the autopsy revealed that the girls had not been
raped, it appeared that police were probably dealing with a sex crime.
Barrentine's DNA was compared to that of the semen found. It did not match.
A judge then approved Barrentine's bond request. He was released from jail a
week before Christmas.
In January, a Dale County grand jury declined to indict him.
Barrentine is living in Daleville now, his lawyer said, and is "trying to pick
up the pieces."
Police still consider him a suspect, Spivey said, noting that Barrentine is
also alleged to have made a jailhouse confession. But he's not the only
suspect.
A man from Michigan who was at a party the night of the murders near where the
car was found is also a "very viable" suspect, the chief said, even after tests
failed to match the man's DNA to that found on J.B.'s clothing.
The man, whom Spivey would not name, left town within days of the murders, the
chief said, adding that investigators have traveled to Michigan three times to
interview him.
The man cannot account for three or four hours of his time on the night of the
murders, and later made "suspicious" statements to people, Spivey said. He did
not elaborate on what he meant by suspicious.
A video surveillance camera inside the Big/Little store caught a grainy, poor
quality image of what appears to be a small white pickup truck at the gas pumps
at the same time that J.B. and Tracie were at the outside phone calling
Tracie's parents.
The store had closed, and there was no record of a gas purchase being made at
the pump by credit card or debit card at that time, the chief said. The video
never reveals anyone getting out of the truck, and never clearly shows the
driver.
Since releasing a photo of the truck to the media a month into the
investigation, no one has come forward to say it was him in the truck. The
truck - and its driver - seem to have disappeared.
"So that may be the key," Spivey said this month.
When the reward reached $45,000 officials put a stop to the fund-raising,
worried that someone with vital information might be waiting for a larger
reward. Regardless, progress in the investigation has been slow, Spivey
acknowledged. But he said it isn't for a lack of effort.
"Every single day since this happened, this case has been actively worked," he
said. "Investigators have been doing things that the public is not aware of.
This case is a priority and will remain a priority until it's solved.
"And it will be solved."
He pointed to the more than 70 people whose DNA was taken and compared to the
DNA from the semen found on J.B.'s clothing. Investigators also have run the
DNA through a state Department of Corrections database seeking the killer. None
has matched.
Earlier this month, Spivey said, another DNA sample was sent to the state
forensic sciences department.
That department, however, has received attention recently because of its
growing backlog of cases. There's reportedly a 21-month delay in getting DNA
test results, with shorter delays in ballistics tests and drug tests.
Since the day police discovered the bodies, they have said that J.B. and Tracie
were shot while inside the Mazda's trunk. And, they've said, they believed the
actual shooting happened somewhere other than where the car was found.
Yet, months into the investigation, police couldn't say where that somewhere
else was. Then, in March, a woman who lived just south of town reported that
she heard screams and what sounded like two gunshots on the night of the
murders. The woman didn't report the information sooner because she "didn't
want to get involved," the chief said.
The area, next to what neighbors said is a now-vacant house, is surrounded by
trees and has two World War II-era buildings on the property. The
spider-web-encrusted buildings - wooden structures that appear to be a barn and
a half-collapsed garage - sit about 100 feet off the roadway.
With FBI help, Spivey said, crime scene specialists and investigators combed
the area and found a spent 9mm shell casing, the same caliber casing found in
the trunk with the bodies. Police sent the casing and a soil sample from the
area to the state forensics lab, where they still sit.
Tipton said forensics experts will compare the dirt from that location with
dirt found on J.B.'s and Tracie's clothing. He said they will also examine the
unique "extraction marks" left on the two casings by the gun that ejected them.
Because investigators are still awaiting those test results from the forensics
lab, they don't know if the scene south of town is the actual murder scene.
In addition to collecting forensic evidence, Spivey said investigators have
traveled all over Alabama - as well as to Georgia, Florida, Mississippi, and
Michigan - interviewing people who might know something.
But the chief wants the case to get nationwide attention and, just weeks into
the investigation, he contacted "America's Most Wanted." The FOX network
television show had helped Ozark police catch two suspects in a 1989 murder
case. On the air for more than a decade, the show usually profiles crimes for
which police are seeking a particular person. Hence the name "Most Wanted."
Recently, show representatives called Spivey back and said they might be
interested in airing a piece on the murders.
Though a final decision has not been made, Spivey said, "We hope in using them
again, if they feel they can do it, that we'll get some good information."
Without some good information, a killer might remain free forever.
--------------------------------
Determination will bring killer to justice
07/23/00
By RICHARD LAKE
Register Staff Reporter
OZARK, Ala. - Perhaps a public hanging would be appropriate, one grieving
parent thinks.
For another, the chance simply to ask a question she knows has no good answer
might help.
A third is so wrapped in grief that she said she has lain awake at night and
wished she were dead.
It's been a year since police found J.B. Beasley and Tracie Hawlett, two bubbly
and popular 17-year-old Dothan girls, stuffed into a car's trunk on the side of
a quiet, tree-lined road here in Ozark, each killed by a gunshot wound to the
head.
The waves of shock and fear that spread through southeast Alabama's largely
rural Wiregrass region seem to have faded, but, knowing a killer has so far
gone free, the parents of Tracie and J.B. crave justice.
"I always knew it was a cruel world out there, but not like this," said
Tracie's father, Mike Roberts. "It happens in California or New York. Detroit
or Chicago. Not here."
In recent weeks, J.B.'s mother has begun to emerge from exile. A self-described
"basket case," Cheryl Burgoon said she has spent most of the last year trapped
in the past. She's been in counseling and periodically has had to take
anti-depressant drugs to help her function.
"I don't know how to cope," she said, shifting between bouts of nervous
rambling and uncontrollable tears during a 90-minute interview at her Dothan
home. "I don't know how to move on."
Burgoon - thin and attractive with short, brown hair and a strong resemblance
to J.B. - said if it weren't for her four younger daughters, she might already
be dead.
"I've laid there and prayed to die. A heart attack. Then it wouldn't be my
fault. But my daughters need me," she said.
Tracie's parents, Mike and Carol Roberts, are less outwardly emotional than
Burgoon, but their pain is evident on their living room walls.
Photographs of their oldest daughter (Mike Roberts was Tracie's stepfather,
having married her mother after her biological father's 1987 death) cover the
walls.
They talk about each one: The last photo ever taken of her; the way her smile
never looked phony; how Northview High's majorettes presented them with a
signed team photo at the end of the school year.
"I feel like my life is blessed by having had Tracie as a daughter," said Carol
Roberts, who can speak for hours about Tracie. "If I'd have had to order a
daughter, there's nothing about Tracie that I would have changed."
Both parents are understandably anxious for their daughter's killer to be
caught.
Carol Roberts said she routinely sleeps on the living room sofa-bed with her
two sons, age 9 and 11, because the boys are too scared at night in their own
rooms with a killer on the loose.
The crime has become one of the most puzzling murder mysteries in the region's
history. The girls were killed sometime between 11:40 p.m. July 31, 1999, and 8
the next morning. Police believe they were shot and killed while in the car's
trunk.
Both girls had finished in the top 10 in beauty pageants, both were good
students, and both were prepared to begin their final year of high school.
Neither had any enemies that anyone knows of.
July 31, 1999, was the last Saturday before school started in Dothan, a growing
city with just under 60,000 people, the largest in the Wiregrass.
That Saturday was also J.B.'s 17th birthday.
Born J.B. Hilton Green Beasley in the summer of 1982, she was named after her
father, Hilton Lanier Beasley, and his buddy, J.B. Green, said her mother. Her
actual first name was "J period B period," Burgoon said, and J.B. wasn't afraid
to let anyone know it.
Burgoon, who divorced and remarried after J.B.'s birth, remembered the oldest
of her five daughters as a "rambunctious" child, a little girl who never shied
away from people.
J.B. was "vibrant, fun, would probably kill for her friends," Burgoon said.
"She was a precious person who couldn't have lived life more fully than she
did."
Burgoon said J.B. had always been that way.
"That was J.B.," said Burgoon, 40. "She always kept you on your toes."
J.B. grew into a beautiful teen-ager, with a small, round face and the kind of
eyes teen-age boys fall in love with.
A popular girl at Dothan's Northview High School and a gifted dancer, J.B.
hoped for a dance scholarship to college. She also talked about becoming a
pediatrician.
"I saw her doing great things," Burgoon said, noting that J.B. was so smart she
could quote extensive Bible passages from memory. "She was as much trouble to
raise as my other four daughters put together, but I loved every minute of it."
J.B. was so much trouble at times, Burgoon said, that mother and daughter had a
falling out when J.B. was 16. Following an ugly custody dispute, J.B. ended up
living with an adult female dance instructor of hers, who had stepped in to
become her legal guardian.
The weekend the girls were killed, a dancer friend of J.B.'s had planned a
party in honor of J.B.'s 17th birthday in the nearby town of Headland, just a
15-minute drive north. J.B. asked her friend Tracie to go with her.
Tracie Jean Hawlett, with shoulder-length brown hair and the kind of smile that
invites conversation, had turned 17 just a few months before. Tracie, with two
younger brothers, was also the oldest child in her family.
Tracie's parents describe her in such glowing terms that she sometimes sounds
too good to be true.
The Robertses, both in their early 40s, said Tracie had picked up the nickname
"D.D." because she often acted as a designated driver. She didn't smoke or
drink, her parents said during an interview in their Dothan home this month.
"She'd crawl into bed and fall asleep with her Bible and devotional book," said
Carol Roberts. "That was the last thing she ever did at night."
A majorette at Northview High, Tracie was on the presidential honor roll two
years running. Since the age of 3, she had planned to be a doctor.
"Tracie had her life all mapped out," her mother said. She and another friend,
Mindy, had already applied to Florida State University.
The Saturday of the party, Tracie had worked until about 9:20 p.m. in the
men'swear department at JCPenney , her parents said.
Carol Roberts, who was working a double shift as a nursing assistant at a
Dothan nursing home, said J.B. stopped by the nursing home around 9 that night
to ask if Tracie could go to the party with her.
Carol Roberts said J.B. planned to spend the night with the Robertses and
attend church with them the next morning.
Tracie was tired that night and told co-workers she didn't really want to go to
the party, her parents said. J.B. didn't seem excited either.
Still, they said, J.B. felt that she should make an appearance, since the party
was in her honor.
After Tracie left work, the girls stopped by her home for Tracie to change
clothes. From there, they left in J.B.'s Mazda 929 just a few minutes after 10.
Tracie had always had a strict 11:30 p.m. curfew, and her father knew he could
trust her to be home on time.
The girls somehow got lost and, at 11:35, 15 minutes after Carol Roberts
arrived home from work and five minutes after Tracie's curfew, the telephone
rang.
"We took a wrong turn and wound up in Ozark," Tracie said.
"Ozark?" her mother asked. Ozark was 20 miles north on U.S. Highway 231. Plus,
the girls were several miles off the main highway using a pay phone at a
Big/Little convenience store down near the railroad tracks.
Tracie and J.B. had gotten directions back to the highway from two women at the
convenience store, which had been closed since 11, Tracie told her mother from
the pay phone. They'd be on their way home in no time, she said.
Mother and daughter talked for five minutes.
Carol Roberts fell asleep.
She awoke around 4:45 a.m. and went to check on the girls, she said. There was
no sign of them.
Worried, she awakened her husband.
Fear gripped them. A car crash. That must be what happened.
Mike Roberts jumped in his car and high-tailed it to Ozark, thinking he might
spot the wreck. He found nothing. The Robertses called all the area's hospitals
and police departments, but no one had reported a car wreck involving Tracie
and J.B.
By then the sun was up. It was near 8 a.m. when Carol Roberts called the Dothan
police to report her daughter missing.
It was about the same time that Ozark police found J.B.'s Mazda, apparently
abandoned. The bodies weren't discovered until 2 p.m. when an investigator
popped the car's trunk.
"Police Seek Killer of Murdered Teens," blared a headline on the Ozark paper's
front page.
"With this guy out on the loose," the Southern Star quoted Ozark Police Chief
Tony R. Spivey as saying, "people need to be more cautious." The chief,
starting his fourth year in that job after nearly two decades on the force,
handled the flurry of media inquiries into the case.
Ozark, with about 17,000 people, has a small-town feel, residents say. In 1998,
Consumers Digest ranked it among the top places in America to retire. Yet it's
hardly a one-stoplight Mayberry. And it really never has been.
The only town of any size in Dale County - which abuts Dothan's Houston County
- Ozark sits smack dab in the middle of the Wiregrass region, named after the
tough grass that settlers encountered there.
Ozark, the county seat since 1870, is no stranger to homicide.
"Something must be done in Dale County to stop so much murder," the Southern
Star editorialized in 1913. Early that year, four people had been killed in a
two-month period and the paper's editor was sure he had a solution.
"There was a time when Dale County had the reputation of hanging people, when
they took a human life, and the laws were observed and few killings occurred.
Something must be done in this county to stop this wholesale lawlessness, and a
few hangings occasionally, as we had in the good old days, might help some."
Ozark might have been the county seat, but it didn't take off until Fort Rucker
was established in 1941. Just a 10-minute drive away, the Army base attracted -
and still does - a slew of newcomers to town.
Ozark continued to grow, and by the 1980s serious crime had arrived.
One particularly heinous crime, a 1989 stabbing death, had attracted the
attention of the national television show "America's Most Wanted."
Within hours of the show's airing in December 1990, hundreds of tips came in.
Two wanted men were caught almost immediately. The show recently expressed
interest in Tracie's and J.B.'s case.
Now, as what would have been J.B.'s 18th birthday approaches in just over a
week, those involved in the case say their lives will never be the same.
*************************************
Join the Joe1orbit Serial and Mass Murder Mailing List! For more information on
my Mailing List, please visit:
http://hometown.aol.com/joe1orbit/myhomepage/index.html
**************************************
mcm...@gmail.com
https://www.dothanfirst.com/news/local-news/breaking-major-development-in-20-year-old-beasley-hawlettcase/1854150972
Greg Carr
> They've arrested a man on DNA tracking. I'm not sure if you keep up anymore but stumbled across your page.
> https://www.dothanfirst.com/news/local-news/breaking-major-development-in-20-year-old-beasley-hawlettcase/1854150972
joyce...@gmail.com
Greg Carr
https://medium.com/@ashleyhorsfall/did-dna-solve-the-murders-of-tracie-hawlett-and-j-b-beasley-11f82e149104