Casefile True Crime - Case 224: Evelyn Hartley

Episode Date: September 24, 2022

When 15-year-old Evelyn Hartley agreed to babysit for the Rasmussen family on the evening of October 24 1953, it sounded like a relatively easy job... --- Narration – Anonymous Host Research & writing – Erin Munro Creative direction – Milly Raso Production and music – Mike Migas Music – Andrew D.B. Joslyn Sign up for Casefile Premium: Apple Premium Spotify Premium Patreon This episode's sponsors: ShipStation – Try ShipStation FREE for 60 days with promo code ‘CASEFILE’ Notion – Take the first step toward organised, productive work and life today. Get started for free today Best Fiends – Download Best Fiends for free For all credits and sources please visit casefilepodcast.com/case-224-evelyn-hartley

Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents. If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local Crisis Centre. For suggested phone numbers for confidential support, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. It was around 6.30pm on Saturday, October 24, 1953, when 15-year-old Evelyn Hartley left her home in the city of La Crosse, Wisconsin. Mature and trustworthy, Evelyn had been tasked with babysitting the 20-month-old daughter of one of her father's colleagues.

Evelyn had only been gone for half an hour when her mother, Ethel, was overcome by an urge to call Evelyn right away. She didn't know why, but she felt a need to check in with her daughter. Ethel expressed her concerns to her husband, Richard. He didn't share her worry. Prior to leaving, Evelyn said she would call her parents to touch base at 8.30pm. Richard had no doubt that their daughter, whom they called Evee, would ring in just over an hour's time as planned.

But 8.30pm came and went without the promised phone call. Richard Hartley dialed the number for the Rasmussen family whom Evelyn was babysitting for. There was no answer. He tried again and again, but the phone continued to ring out. Wondering whether Evelyn might have gone to one of the Rasmussen's neighbors' homes for some reason, Richard started calling some of them. No one had seen his daughter.

By 9.15pm, Ethel Hartley was convinced something was terribly wrong. Richard drove straight to the Rasmussen's home, which was less than two miles away on Heschelow Drive. On their driveway, Richard could see lights on inside the residence. He could also hear music playing faintly on a radio. Feeling slightly reassured, Richard knocked on the front door. Evelyn didn't appear. He banged louder and rang the doorbell.

Still, nobody came. Grabbing the door handle to let himself in, Richard found it was locked. He then peered through the front windows into the home's main living area. It looked as though no one was home. Richard hurried around to the back of the house where there was a rear door. It too was locked. He shouted while pounding on the door, but his efforts were in vain. As Richard paced the perimeter of the house, he suddenly tripped on something.

A mesh screen had been removed from the basement window and was leaning against an exterior wall. The window was open and Richard was able to maneuver his body inside. As he lulled himself into the dark basement, his feet found a small stepladder below. He straightened up and turned on a light. Lying at the bottom of the stairs that led into the house above was a small black shoe with tassels. It belonged to Evelyn.

The streets of La Crosse were quiet that evening as the annual homecoming football game was underway. The town's team of La Crosse State Teachers College was taking on their arch rivals River Falls. La Crosse State hadn't lost a game all season and their beloved captain was being recognized in a special ceremony. Someone who had been able to get a ticket was there. La Crosse State Teachers College, now known as the University of Wisconsin La Crosse,

was a big part of the small Riverside City's identity. Although it only had 945 students, the college played a significant role in the community. It employed a number of its residents, including physics professor Vigo Rasmussen. Vigo was looking forward to the homecoming game, which he planned to attend with his wife and 7-year-old daughter. But his other daughter, 20-month-old Janice, was too young to join them. About a week before the game, Vigo reached out to the family's regular babysitter to see if she could watch Janice on the night of Saturday, October 24.

She couldn't help as she was going to the game also. Vigo's regular babysitter was the daughter of a colleague, so Vigo again asked around at work to find a replacement. Biology professor Richard Hartley had a studious and kind 15-year-old daughter named Evelyn who came highly recommended. When Vigo asked if she would be able to watch Janice in a week's time, Evelyn agreed. Evelyn soon began to have second thoughts. She had a bad feeling about the job, plus she wasn't keen on staying in while everyone

else was having fun at the homecoming game. Evelyn wondered aloud if she could back out of the agreement. Her mother Ethel reminded her that she'd made a commitment to the Rasmussen's and should do the right thing by sticking to it. When Saturday night arrived, Evelyn packed several textbooks so she could study while Janice slept and waited for Vigo Rasmussen to collect her as planned. Before leaving she promised to call her parents at 8.30 to check in as she always did when she babysat.

Vigo Rasmussen picked Evelyn up at 6.30pm and drove her back to his family's house. Evelyn set up her textbooks in the living room and Madeline Rasmussen, Vigo's wife, gave her instructions. It was going to be a straightforward night. Janice was to go to bed at 7 o'clock and then all Evelyn would have to do was check in on her at 7.15 and cover her with a blanket. At 6.45pm the Rasmussen said goodbye to Evelyn and headed to watch the game. Two and a half hours later, Richard Hartley stood in the basement of the Rasmussen home.

He'd let himself in through an open window to find out why his daughter wasn't answering the home's phone or door. Having come across one of Evelyn's shoes at the base of the stairs, Richard raced up to the main part of the house. Evelyn's schoolbooks were scattered across the living room. Her brand new eyeglasses were lying on the floor, as was her other black shoe. Smeared across the light-colored rug was a muddy shoe print. There were also several drops of blood.

Richard checked the rest of the house. Janice was unharmed and fast asleep in her crib. But Evelyn was nowhere to be found. Local police were preparing to go home after a quiet night when a call came through at 9.49pm about a missing teenage girl. They weren't overly concerned, believing the girl had likely gone to see a boy and would be found within 10 minutes. Two officers arrived at the Rasmussen residence, where Richard Hartley was waiting to meet them.

The officers soon realized how serious the situation was. Over a dozen more officers arrived, along with detectives, the district attorney, and the La Crosse County Sheriff. The Rasmissons had moved into the house just a few months earlier. The ordinary ranch-style suburban home had three bedrooms. It was part of a new subdivision, and like many other residences in the neighborhood, it was so new that its windows had no blinds or curtains. It sat close to other houses on the street, and there were enough people around that it

didn't feel isolated or remote, even on a quiet night like this. Outside, investigators noticed someone had used a screwdriver to try and pry open three separate windows. A flower bed below one window featured an imprint of a size 11 tennis shoe, matching the muddy shoe print on the living room rug. After failing to jimmy the other windows open, the intruder finally succeeded with the basement window. Several red fibers on its surface matched the jeans Evelyn Hartley had been wearing that

evening. Whoever had broken into the basement had forced the 15-year-old out via the same route. While it was initially thought the intruder had placed the step ladder under the basement window to secure their escape, the Rasmussen's revealed that they had propped the ladder there on a previous occasion. The fact it sat in such an opportune location for the abductor was merely a coincidence. Traces of blood were found inside the basement, with more just outside about 10 feet from the window.

A large pool of blood on the ground nearby was consistent with a severely injured person having laid down there to recover. A bloody handprint was smeared across the outside wall of the Rasmussen house. Another was found on the exterior of a neighbor's garage about 100 yards away. Pools of blood lined an external wall of a third house just around the corner. The blood was Type A, the same as Evelyn's. Bloodhounds tracked the scent for two blocks but then stopped. It seemed Evelyn had been forced into a vehicle there and whisked away.

An alert was issued and descriptions of Evelyn Hartley were sent out. At foot 7, 126 pounds, straight brown hair and blue eyes, last seen wearing red jeans rolled up at the cuff, bobby socks and a white blouse. Janice Rasmussen was in her crib but was not covered in a blanket. This led investigators to assume that Evelyn was confronted within the 15 minute window between Janice's bed time at 7 and 7.15 when Evelyn was supposed to cover Janice with a blanket. Evelyn's attacker likely gave her a bloody nose which had caused the initial blood spots

on the living room rug. Once outside the basement, the attacker had hit Evelyn with the window screen causing a greater injury. Evelyn had lost significant amounts of blood as her abductor forced her away from the Rasmussen home. She stopped periodically causing her blood to pool in certain areas. The bloody handprints were from Evelyn dragging her hand along the buildings they passed. When Richard Hartley saw the blood the next morning in the harsh light of day, he feared

his daughter hadn't survived her ordeal. There was simply too much. It was a particularly tragic thought as Ethel and Richard Hartley had already lost their eldest son to Polio seven years earlier. Ethel was too distraught to leave her home until Monday when she was taken to the Rasmussen house and escorted through the crime scene. She remained calm as she looked at the living room and the basement. But when Ethel saw the blood outside, she broke down and lent on her husband for support.

Oh, my Evelyn, she cried. We know she isn't alive now. People in La Crosse had been so absorbed by the football game the night prior that it wasn't until they gathered for Sunday church that news of Evelyn Hartley's abduction spread. Hundreds of locals soon descended on the Rasmussen property to offer assistance or gawk at investigators. Police had to cordon off two blocks around the house to prevent the scene from becoming contaminated.

Although night had already fallen by the time Evelyn was taken, the moon was bright and street lamps were lit. Like the Rasmussen's, many residents along Heschler Drive had yet to install curtains or blinds in their newly built homes. Thus, they could see directly outside. Across the street, a couple had sat listening to music in a room with a clear view of the Rasmussen's house. Another man had been painting his basement's interior.

These was one of the homes that was smeared with Evelyn's blood. Many other neighbors were home as well. One had even been doing some late night gardening. Despite this, no one had seen Evelyn or her assailant coming or going. However, Elven Sotterbach had been sitting on his front porch at around 7 that night when two or three sharp screams suddenly rang out. Elven couldn't tell where the screams had originated, but they sounded to him like children playing.

The final cry cut off abruptly as though interrupted by something or someone. Elven thought a parent had intervened to discipline the unruly children. Elven's wife, who was in the kitchen, also heard the screams. She thought they sounded less playful than her husband did. After her, it sounded like whoever was screaming was sending a message of, stop, get away from me. That night, Ed Hoffa had been driving through the area to pick up his brother-in-law en route to the homecoming game.

At 7.15pm, Ed pulled into Sunrise Drive, which ran parallel to Hesla Drive. His car's headlights illuminated several people walking along the footpath. It was two young men, with the young woman sandwiched between them. The girl was staggering as though she'd had a few drinks. Ed paid them little attention as he pulled over and headed inside his brother-in-law's house. Five minutes later, Ed was driving again with his brother-in-law riding his passenger. He headed north on Sunrise.

A dark green two-toned 1942 Buick suddenly careened past in the opposite direction. Its driver was speeding, but Ed still managed to catch a glimpse inside as the car whizzed by. He was certain the car's occupants were the three young people he'd passed on the street minutes earlier. One of the men was driving, the other sat in the back seat next to the woman. She was slumped forward, her head pressed against the back of the driver's seat. It looked as though she might have been unwell.

Ed had written off the incident at the time as young people having fun. On Monday, he was at work when he heard that a 15-year-old girl had been abducted from a house just around the corner. Ed then reported his recollections to the police. He hadn't been able to get a good look at the car's driver. He thought the man behind the wheel might have been a local college student, but when police followed up with the student, they found he had an airtight alibi. Pitches of a car matching the Buick's description were given to petrol stations in the area,

with employees told to keep an eye out for similar vehicles. Police also set up an incentive for people to volunteer their vehicles for searching. Members of the public were encouraged to drive to local petrol stations and allow the station's employees to check the back seat and trunk of their cars. Once they had been given the all-clear, they would be given a sticker that read, my car is okay. The sticker would be displayed in the car's window, along with the date of the search. Any drivers who refused to comply with the search had their details noted by the petrol

station employees who passed them on to police. 40,000 stickers were printed, and the aim was to search every car in the county. Ted Hoffer's sighting indicated that Evelyn was taken by two men working together. The question still remained, was it an opportunistic or planned abduction? Nothing had been stolen from the Rasmussen house, but maybe the man had broken in only to be surprised by Evelyn. As she had been covering for the family's regular babysitter, some speculated that perhaps the other girl was the original target.

The media wondered whether Evelyn Hartley was as squeaky clean as everyone believed. What if she had a secret life and ran away with a boy? This notion was entirely dismissed by investigators and everyone who knew her. It was far more probable that a pair of prowlers had taken advantage of the quiet streets that night to look for potential victims. One woman reported that recently she had been ironing clothes in her basement only to look up to see an unknown man staring through a window at her. He laughed and said, I'm going to get you.

Investigators tracked down a man who was known to spy through people's windows. They also interviewed a man who had been convicted of sexually abusing his 12-year-old daughter six years earlier. Neither of these lines of inquiry led anywhere, nor did interviews with 48 other men who were wanted for or associated with the various sex crimes. Richard Hartley and Avigo Rasmussen were also looked into, but more so out of procedure than anything else. Both men cooperated with authorities and were ruled out of the investigation.

The cross residents, businesses and organizations pulled together a reward for information that was the equivalent of almost $71,500 today. Upwards of 2,000 people joined the search for Evelyn. Bodies of water were dragged, farmers scoured their fields and hunters were on the lookout while in the woods. Recently dug graves at cemeteries were checked in case Evelyn's attacker had thought to use one as an easy way to dispose of her. Many of those searching for Evelyn were her peers from her school.

They were joined by the local Boy Scouts and other community groups. Amongst the crowd was Evelyn's 22-year-old brother, Thomas. He had rushed home from college upon learning of Evelyn's disappearance. Thomas and a friend covered three miles of La Crosse, removing manholes and then jumping down into the storm sewers to check for Evelyn. When it grew dark, Thomas became upset. He didn't want to stop looking for his little sister. Wednesday, October 28 marked four days since Evelyn Hartley went missing.

Highway 14, two miles south of La Crosse's city limits had been searched the previous day to no result. Yet, on Wednesday, a bra and a pair of women's underwear were recovered from the area. The garments were a popular brand and appeared to be Evelyn's size. Given they hadn't been spotted previously, it was believed that they'd been dumped within the past 24 hours. They appeared to have been thrown from a moving vehicle that was fleeing south. Both garments were stained with type A blood.

As roughly 40% of the population had this blood type, police couldn't be certain it was Evelyn's. These later, on Friday, October 31, a third search of Highway 14 was undertaken. Close to where the bra and underwear had been found, a search party came across two size 11 good-rich brand sneakers. They too had seemingly been tossed one at a time from a vehicle travelling south. The pattern on the soles of the sneakers matched the muddy prints found in the Rasmussen home. They had a distinctive circular wear pattern as well, which suggested whoever owned them

worked with some kind of machinery. The shoes also had type A blood on them. It was determined that they had been worn by two different people, one whose feet was a size larger than the sneakers. This particular model of sneaker was called the Hood Mogul. They'd been available throughout Wisconsin, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota and Illinois, but hadn't been sold in Wisconsin for about three years. An unusual marking on the back of the shoes was traced back to a Whizzer motorbike, meaning

whoever owned the shoes also rode this make of motorcycle. Registration and sales records for Whizzer motorbikes were checked, but the line of inquiry went nowhere. Two and a half weeks later, rumours had reached detectives pertaining to a blood-stained jacket. It had been found about 300 feet from where the sneakers were discovered. Rumours had noticed the jacket lying on the highway's shoulder as they drove past each day. One had picked it up and thrown it in the back of his truck, then promptly forgot about

it. The police identified the farmer and took possession of the jacket. It was denim and looked like the kind of jacket worn by people who worked outdoors. It had been cut along the bottom, then re-hemmed with a sewing machine using white thread. This had resulted in strange, shallow pockets and, like the shoes, it had spots of type A blood on it, on the front, back and the sleeves. Smears of blood in the Rasmussen home looked to be the result of a denim type fabric being rubbed against surfaces.

It seemed unlikely that the person who owned the shoes had also owned the jacket. The size 11 shoes indicated a taller owner, whereas a size 36 jacket would belong to a smaller man. Once again, clues in the case seemed to point to two perpetrators. The jacket had faded spots under the armpits, possibly caused by a safety harness commonly worn by people who worked as steeplejacks. They climbed tall structures like chimneys and steeples to carry out repairs. Detectives learned that a local man had manufactured safety harnesses for two steeplejacks the

previous year, but all he remembered about them was that they were young and possibly from the area. These had the bloodied jacket and shoes toured through 31 different towns within a 40-mile radius of La Crosse. They were displayed at local fairs and in public places in hopes someone would recognise them. As all their leads dried up, investigators sought to polygraph test every male student and school faculty member within the area. This would amount to a total of around 1,750 tests, making it the largest mass polygraph

examination in United States history. Students cooperated without complaint. They were asked questions such as, are you withholding any information regarding the Evelyn Hartley disappearance case? Psychologist Dr Carl Smith was critical of the strategy. He told the Associated Press, This is a dangerous use of a device that is not even recognised in the courts. The tests, even though allegedly on a voluntary basis, are equivalent to a beating.

There actually is nothing voluntary about submitting to the tests, however, because if a pupil fails to submit, he will be suspected by members of his society. No one in the La Crosse community voiced any concerns about the process, but the school board ultimately put a stop to it. Around 300 boys had already been questioned. None of the information gathered proved fruitful. Every night since Evelyn disappeared, her family left all of the lights on in their house, believing it would help her find her way back to them.

They also fronted the media, begging for those who knew anything about Evelyn's whereabouts to come forward. They soon received two phone calls from a man who said he had information about Evelyn. He would give it to them in exchange for $500 cash. It was to be placed inside a paper bag, then left in the bathroom of a La Crosse drugstore. The man said he would leave a letter in the bathroom that revealed Evelyn's whereabouts. The family was warned not to go to the police. With the money in her possession, Ethel Hartley headed into the store.

She went up a flight of stairs to the balcony where the bathrooms were located. Ethel looked for the letter the man said would be there, but there was nothing. She then left. The entire time a 13-year-old boy was following Ethel. When she walked out of the drugstore, the boy returned to the shop's main floor. There, he met up with a 20-year-old man named Jack Dufferin. Unbeknownst to Dufferin and the boy, plainclothes police officers were stationed throughout the store.

Despite being warned not to, the Hartleys had told investigators about the phone call from the start. Both Dufferin and the boy were arrested, with Dufferin insisting he had nothing to do with it. There was nothing to tie him to Evelyn's abduction, but he was convicted of extortion and sentenced to one to three years. After this, the Hartleys avoided publicity. They decided to leave the case to the police and deal with their grief and anguish in private.

But they were never left alone. In November 1953, Richard Hartleys received a letter. Postmarks revealed it had been sent from North Dakota, specifically the Devil's Lake area. It read, Just a note to let you know that Miss Hartleys is in my power. Don't try to trace this letter because I didn't leave any evidence. I'll let you know the ransom later. You stupid people almost had me, but I managed to escape.

Scribbled on the letter was a drawing of a skull and crossbones. Then in 1958, Evelyn's mother received a parcel that contained a girl's gym shirt. There was no explanation and apparently no link to Evelyn, though a note from the sender stated that the shirt would be of some interest to Ethel. That same year, a man with a wild stare showed up at the Hartleys' home and ranted about knowing where Evelyn was. Police handled the matter, but the man returned four days later. After visiting the Hartleys, he headed to the home of the Rasmussen's.

They had since moved to a new house, unable to bear living in the place where Evelyn was taken. Both families were terrified of the man, who appeared to be a religious fanatic prone to nonsensical rants. He continued to be fixated by the case, sending long confusing letters to investigators and making anonymous calls asking for leads. As far as detectives could tell, his only connection to Evelyn Hartley was an unhealthy obsession with her disappearance.

He wasn't the only one. The police received countless letters, phone calls and tip-offs from people certain they knew where Evelyn was or who had taken her. Some were clairvoyance, others spoke of having prophetic dreams that solved the case. Multiple individuals falsely confessed to the crime, including at least two men in mental health facilities. On several occasions, teenage girls and young women claimed to be Evelyn Hartley. Although the Hartleys insisted they were happy with the police's work and believed they would

solve the case, other locals were disgruntled. Some remarked, if you want to get away with murder, move to La Crosse. They were also angry that the FBI hadn't become involved in the investigation, as they typically did with kidnappings. The La Crosse law enforcement had apparently asked for the FBI's assistance from the outset, but described the case as a sex crime, not an abduction. Consequently, the FBI refused to get involved. 84-year-old Howard George knew he didn't have much time left and wanted to spend his

money in a meaningful way before he passed. Solving La Crosse's most enduring and painful mystery seemed like the obvious answer. So in 1958, Howard hired some private detectives to look into Evelyn Hartley's disappearance. They hit a roadblock when La Crosse police wouldn't share their files with them. As a result, they wasted time, resources and money looking into suspects who had already been cleared. When Howard George's actions became publicly known, his small and modest home was ransacked, although nothing was stolen.

After he passed away and their funds dried up, the private investigators had to reluctantly cease their involvement. In a final report, they noted the innumerable unanswered questions that remained and concluded. The Evelyn Hartley disappearance will always be a thorn in the city of La Crosse's side until solved. It was around 5 p.m. on Saturday, November 16, 1957, when Deputy Sheriff Frank Warden approached the entrance of a hardware store in the Wisconsin town of Plainfield. He tried the door only to discover it was locked.

Frank was puzzled. The hardware store was owned by his mother, 58-year-old Bernice, and Frank had arrived to help her out before closing time in one hour. As it turned out, no one had been inside the hardware store since earlier that morning. Customers had approached, but finding the shop locked up, they assumed it was closed. At 9.30 a.m., the store's truck was witnessed pulling out of the garage at the rear of the property and driving away. Frank broke into the store.

He didn't find his mother, but the cash register was open and there was a small pool of blood behind the counter. There was also a receipt written in his mother's handwriting for a gallon of antifreeze. Frank recalled that the previous evening a local handyman had been asking about antifreeze and had promised to return to pick up a gallon the next day. A few hours later, police found the man at a nearby grocery store and placed him under arrest. Meanwhile, other officers drove out to the man's property.

He lived alone in a large weatherboard farmhouse that had belonged to his parents. The residents sat within a 155-acre farm, much of which was cloaked in snow and dotted with bare trees. Overall, it had a grim and gloomy atmosphere. A sheriff's deputy made his way towards a shed. He walked inside and was immediately confronted by the naked body of Bernice Warden hanging upside down from a crossbar. Her wrists were bound with rope and she had been beheaded.

She had also been gutted like a deer with her internal organs removed. Inside the nearby farmhouse, police found Bernice's organs wrapped inside a dress. Her head was also there. The handyman would confess to entering the hardware store and marching straight to the back where guns were displayed for sale. He'd taken down a .22 caliber rifle, which Bernice Warden assumed he wanted to purchase. As she stood waiting to ring it up for him, the handyman loaded it with one bullet he'd brought from home, then fired a single shot into Bernice's head.

He'd then taken her body to his house, where he mutilated it. He had been busy. A search of the man's farmhouse uncovered another 10 female skulls, some of which had been put on top of bed posts. He'd upholstered chairs with human skin, made masks from women's faces, and a belt out of nipples. Female genitals that had been removed were found stashed in a shoebox. The handyman was 51-year-old Edward Gein, better known as Ed.

He would come to be known as one of the most notorious killers in American history, with his crimes providing the inspiration for novels and films such as Psycho and Silence of the Lambs. Gein had a fixation with his mother, who had been a devout Christian. She'd preached to her sons about the immorality of the world. Women were especially evil, she said, with the exception of herself. They were promiscuous and used to do the devil's bidding. Gein's father died, and then his brother, leaving just Gein and his mother.

After she suffered a debilitating stroke, Gein devoted himself to her recovery. She died in 1945 at the age of 67, when Gein was 39. Restated and all alone, Gein remained living in the family home, but boarded up the portions of the house his mother had used. His living quarters were reduced to the kitchen and a small room next door. Between 1947 and 1952, Gein visited three nearby cemeteries at night to dig up the graves of recently buried women. As he took the bodies home with him and mutilated them, he particularly focused on the corpses

of middle-aged women who resembled his mother, though body parts belonging to adolescent girls were also found in his house. His dream was to create a suit of human skin that looked like his mother, so he could wear it and become her. As well as admitting to killing Bernice Warden, Gein said he'd murdered a tavern owner named Mary Hogan. She had been missing since 1954, and her head was recovered from his house. The gruesome crimes of Ed Gein led to him being dubbed the Butcher of Plainfield.

He was ultimately diagnosed with schizophrenia and deemed not guilty by reason of insanity. Gein spent the remainder of his life in a hospital for the criminally insane. It was said that on the night Evelyn Hartley disappeared in 1953, Ed Gein had been visiting relatives who lived in or near La Crosse. La Crosse was where Gein was born before his family relocated more than 100 miles east to Plainfield. Hartley case investigators interviewed Gein for more than an hour in relation to the crime. He told them that he hadn't been to La Crosse since his family left when he was eight.

Evelyn Hartley's dental records were compared to the remains found in Gein's home. None were a match. The manner in which Evelyn was attacked was inconsistent with Ed Gein's murders operandi. He was only confirmed to have killed two middle-aged women whom he knew and who reminded him of his mother. In both instances he murdered them with a firearm. The rest of the female body parts found in his farmhouse were the result of his grave robbing.

In contrast, Evelyn was unknown to Gein, was in the wrong age group, and the evidence from the crime scene was nothing like Gein's confirmed murders. Investigators ruled Ed Gein out as a possible perpetrator in the Hartley case. As the 50th anniversary of Evelyn Hartley's disappearance approached in 2003, local newspaper The La Crosse Tribune published a number of articles reflecting on the case. One focused on the efforts of a local history buff who was determined to solve it. A real tire in La Crosse by day, Andrew Thompson had a fascination with unsolved mysteries that occupied his spare time.

When his business partner Peggy Lovejoy told him about their town's very own ongoing mystery, Andrew was intrigued. He and Peggy began looking into the Hartley case with some help from local police. They also hired a former La Crosse Tribune journalist named Susan Hassell as they wished to publish a book about Evelyn and needed a writer. Soon, an article detailing their efforts ran in the paper. When a local man named Mel Williams read the article, his mind began to tick. One night in 1969, Mel visited a bar owned by his brother in the Wisconsin town of La

Farge, about 40 miles southeast of La Crosse. A group of patrons, including Mel, stayed until after closing, talking and drinking into the early hours. One of them was Clyde Tywee Peterson, a small man with a drinking problem and a reputation for stealing. Despite this, Mel found Peterson likeable and amusing. As the drinks flowed, Peterson began telling a story about how he used to smuggle whiskey into a ward that housed alcoholics at a local psychiatric hospital.

The man who was present named Whitey Barclay asked, That's about the time you hauled that Hartley girl down there, that right? Peterson avoided the question, but Whitey persisted. You hauled her from La Crosse down to another address and back to La Crosse, huh? Peterson initially said no. Whitey was insistent. You did haul her up there, though, he repeated. Peterson finally replied, No witness, no proof, they haven't found her, have they?

Others listening in on the conversation asked who the Hartley girl was. Whitey explained Evelyn Hartley's abduction and implicated two other men in the crime as well. Allegedly, Jack had met Evelyn when they attended the same parties. He had known she was babysitting at the Rasmussen's that night. He, Clyde Peterson, and the other unnamed man abducted Evelyn, then later killed her at a house elsewhere. Whitey claimed he had been the one to dig Evelyn's grave in a supposed location in

La Farge. The conversation lasted about seven minutes. Then, Whitey noticed a device Mel Williams had brought with him to the bar that night. Mel was visiting from Nashville, Tennessee, where he'd relocated to in an attempt to become a country music star. Bands were performing at the bar earlier that evening, so Mel had set up a reel-to-reel recorder to tape their sets. He had left it on long after the music stopped, capturing the conversation between Clyde

Tywee Peterson and Whitey Barclay about Evelyn Hartley's murder. Upon noticing the recording device, Whitey told Mel to turn it off, and the conversation was dropped. Mel knew Jack at golf air, and believed he was capable of killing someone. He would later describe him to author Susan Hassell as violent and vicious, but thought little of the conversation at the time due to how drunk the men were. Maybe they were just trying to big-note themselves. He would later toss the tape recorded at the bar that night into a box, along with dozens

of others he'd made over the years. On the 50th anniversary of Evelyn Hartley's disappearance was making headlines, Mel retrieved the tape he'd made at the bar 34 years prior, which had captured the confession. Now 76 years old, Mel passed the recording to those collaborating on the book about Evelyn's case. They in turn handed it to the authorities. Others described the tape as the best lead we've ever had. However, Clyde Tywee Peterson, Jack at golf air, and the third man implicated in the

crime were all deceased. Golf air had taken his own life on Christmas Day 1967. Amitur Sluth Andrew Thompson visited Whitey Barclay's wife. She believed Evelyn Hartley had been in Lafarge the night before she vanished. She took Andrew to meet her husband. By this time, Whitey had dementia and was living in a nursing home. When Evelyn's name was mentioned, the elderly man froze, but did not speak. Lafarge was one of the locations where the denim jacket and shoes that were believed

to belong to Evelyn's abductors had been put on display. Rumors had spread amongst locals that the jacket was familiar. They'd seen an acquaintance of Peterson and golf airs wearing it before. Some have speculated that it was Peterson who wore the jacket. He was a small man and it was a small size. The good rich sneakers recovered were believed to have been worn by two men at different times, one who was very tall and the other shorter. Peterson was known to wear secondhand clothing.

Investigators had made inquiries about Clyde Peterson and Jack Golf Air back in 1968. It was unclear how the men came to be on their radar, but they later said they'd never been able to substantiate claims they had killed Evelyn. When investigators looked into the men again in 2004, they were unable to come up with anything concrete tying them to the case. In her book Wears Evelyn, author Susan Hassell mentions the possibility that the men's bodies could one day be assumed for DNA testing. Attempts to obtain DNA evidence from blood found at the crime scene have so far proved

unsuccessful. Susan Hassell published Wears Evelyn in 2005 after extensive research alongside Andrew Thompson and Peggy Lovejoy. As well as coming through archives and police files, Susan interviewed residents of La Crosse who spoke about the loss of innocence experienced by the community in the wake of Evelyn's disappearance. Curfews were introduced, doors were kept locked, girls no longer walked alone, and families struggled to find babysitters.

The Rasmussen family were haunted by the tragedy that had taken place in their home, with Vigo Rasmussen telling a journalist in 1978, It's a nightmare whenever we think of it. I don't mean it preys on our minds constantly, but we don't forget it, no matter how long ago it was. Evelyn's remaining family members were too heartbroken to participate in Susan Hassell's book, but some of her friends gave interviews, including her best friend, a girl named Mary Sequest Wall.

Mary shared some of her favorite memories with Susan. She recalled Evelyn as someone who loved music and would walk down the street playing a ukulele and singing. Mary joined the Hartleys on their many trips to the great outdoors, and they would all go hiking through the woods together. The girls would have sleepovers and laugh at silly jokes while Evelyn's parents made them popcorn. During one slumber party, Evelyn and her friends snuck out of the house at dawn, still wearing

their pajamas, and rode their bicycles over to the local swimming pool. It was closed, but the girls climbed the fence and jumped into the pool. On the day that Evelyn went missing, Mary had passed her driving test and obtained her license. That evening, she felt disappointed that Evelyn was babysitting because she wanted to share the exciting news. At around 7pm, she decided to call her and went to the telephone, but because she didn't know how to spell the surname Rasmussen, she couldn't look up the family's phone number

in a phone book. Mary told author Susan Hassell, I put the phone back. I thought I'd talk with Evelyn tomorrow. That was about the time it happened. News soon broke that Evelyn had been taken. Mary explained to Susan Hassell. She changed how I live, I just have a hard time with it. I feel so awful that it had to be her, and she is such a wonderful person.

As of mid-2022, Evelyn Hartley's case remains unsolved, her remains have not been found. Richard and Ethel Hartley passed away without learning what happened to their daughter.