Dark Downeast - The Murder of Laurie Gonyo (Vermont)

Episode Date: April 16, 2026

In the fall of 1976, a woman vanished from her home in rural Vermont sometime between a cup of morning coffee and the end of an ordinary workday. What followed was years of suspicion, rumor, and silence until a witness with questionable credibility stepped forward. Laurie Gonyo’s case has an ending but not the kind of clean resolution people imagine when they hear the word solved. This is a story about what happens when justice feels incomplete, when a sentence seems too small for the violence at the center of it, and when the killer in one case leaves a trail of suspicion wherever he goes. This episode discusses other unsolved cases with a shared suspect. If you have any information about the murder of Denise Dansby or Connie Sedam, please email the Volusia County Cold Case unit at [e-mail]. To submit an anonymous tip, call Crime Stoppers at 888-277-TIPS. View source material and photos for this episode at: darkdowneast.com/lauriegonyo   Dark Downeast is an Audiochuck and Kylie Media production hosted by Kylie Low. Follow @darkdowneast on Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok To suggest a case visit darkdowneast.com/submit-case Did you know you can listen to Dark Downeast ad-free? Join the Crime Junkie Fan Club! Visit https://crimejunkiepodcast.com/fanclub/ to view the current membership options and policies. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

In the fall of 1976, a woman vanished from her home in rural Vermont sometime between a cup of morning coffee and the end of an ordinary workday. What followed was years of suspicion, rumor, and silence, until a witness with questionable credibility stepped forward. Lori Gagnos' case has an ending, but not the kind of clean resolution people imagine when they hear the word solved. This is a story about what happens when justice feels in place. when a sentence seems too small for the violence at the center of it, and when the killer in one case leaves a trail of suspicion wherever he goes. I'm Kylie Lowe and this is the case of Lori Gagne, on Darkdowne East. The last time Ricky Gagne saw his wife, it was still dark out.

He moved through the quiet of the house as he made a cup of coffee in the kitchen and carried it carefully into the bedroom to find 29-year-old Lori Gagneo still in bed. He handed her the cup, told her he loved her, just like he always did, and then he left for work by 5.30 a.m. on November 4, 1976. There was nothing unusual about it. Nothing that would suggest this would be the last normal moment. According to Ted Ted Tedford's reporting for the Burlington Free Press, when Ricky came home that afternoon, the first thing he noticed was the door. It was open. And that alone didn't make sense, Lorry wouldn't just leave the door open in early November in Vermont.

He stepped inside, expecting to find her somewhere in the house, but she wasn't there. At first glance, everything looked normal. Her jacket was there, her pocketbook, her money, even her cigarettes hadn't been touched. Her boots were still sitting in their usual spot, the kind, you don't go without that time of year, or with the horses outback that she tended to all day long. Ricky moved through their home trying to make sense of it. Then he noticed something off near the couch. A TV tray was tipped over.

A cup sat halfway underneath it. There was a tea bag on the floor and a stain on the cushion still wet. Something had happened here. There was one more place to check. Ricky walked outside to the backyard, the cold air sharp, the silence heavier, the closer he got. The small horse barn behind their home was quiet. Lori wasn't there, and the horses hadn't been fed.

That's when the unease turned into something else. Ricky called a Vermont state police trooper in Enosburg Falls, who then contacted a detective, but it wasn't until the next afternoon that bloodhounds arrived to search the property. They picked up some sense, but nothing really strong. After checking out the house, investigators said there was no evidence of foul play or violence. But Ricky didn't believe that.

Nothing about this felt like Lori had simply walked away, not without her things, not without feeding the horses, not with that scene by the couch with the spilled tea. To him, it looked like she had been taken. As the hours stretched into night and there was still no sign of Lori, Ricky couldn't sit still. He grabbed a rifle and stepped outside onto the road. Back and forth he walked, stopping every car that passed, asking each driver the same question. had they seen Lori. Lori grew up in Vermont, attending Essex Junction High School and later Johnson State Teachers College.

But before she met her husband, and they built a life on a plot of land in Innesburg, her life had taken her somewhere else entirely. In her early 20s, Lori moved to Philadelphia and to New York City. Mike Donahue reports for the free press that her family said it was during those years she may have started hanging out with the, quote, wrong kind of people. a rough crowd, the kind that could have followed her, even after she left it behind. Yet by the mid-1970s, Lori's life had landed in a peaceful place. At the time of her disappearance, she and Ricky had been married for about four and a half years.

In 1974, the two of them moved to Enosburg Falls and settled into a quieter life. They bought a home on about 20 acres of land, and Ricky built a horse barn for her. Lori spent her days taking care of the horses. They were saving money and working towards something bigger. They dreamed of building a new house on the top of the hill and filling it with children. The plan was to get everything in place before starting a family. To her parents and sister, Lori was happy in life. She wouldn't have walked away from it, not by choice.

As the days passed with no sign of Lori, Ricky kept searching. He followed Leeds himself, feeling like the state police weren't doing enough. He spent the money they had been saving for that house on the hill, trying to find her. Police said they were doing what they could, but without clear evidence of a crime, they had to treat the case as a missing person's investigation. And so everyone waited for a piece of evidence to surface that would heighten the urgency of the search effort. Lori's family and friends were left in limbo hoping she would come home and spiraling with possibilities in lieu of anything solid to hang on to. One of her friends later said she had a vision one night.

In that vision, a tall, husky man with light combed-back hair carried Lori out of her house, her head dangling, her mouth covered or maybe unconscious so she wouldn't struggle. She couldn't shake the scene from her mind. Months went by. Ricky was forced to sell the land, the house, the barn, everything they had been building toward, and he left Vermont, for Florida. He said it was too painful to stay there without Lori, but Lori's father believed there may have been another reason Ricky chose Florida in particular. He thought Ricky had heard Lori had a friend there, someone who might know something about what happened to her. Lori and Ricky's next-door neighbor in Enosburg in November of 1976 was Wayne Earl Delisle

Sr. But not for long after that. According to reporting by Diane Derby for the free press, just three weeks following Lori's disappearance, Wayne, sold his house, got rid of his own horses, sent his children to live with his first wife, and then left Vermont altogether. He moved to Alaska for about a year before relocating again in 1977,

this time to Volusia County, Florida. He had been questioned early on in Lori's disappearance, not least of all, because Wayne had a lot of, notable criminal history. Records show prior charges including simple assault in 1974 and disorderly conduct in 1969 and 1973, among others. Gita Anand reports for the Rutland Daily Herald that police asked Wayne if he knew what happened or if he was involved with Lori in some way, but he denied having a relationship with her or any knowledge of her disappearance, saying he was at work that day.

In early December, about a month after Lori went missing, a secret inquest was held in St. Albans to compel witnesses to give testimony and generate new information and evidence in Lori's case. One of those witnesses was Wayne's mother, Irene Delisle. Irene testified that on the morning Lori disappeared, she picked Wayne up around 7.30 a.m. and drove him to work, returning to pick him up again at 4 p.m. It wasn't a full alibi because Ricky had last seen Lori at 5.30 a.m., which left a two-hour gap, but it suggested Wayne was away from the property for most of the day. Wayne's son, Wayne Jr., who went by the name Bud, was also called to testify during the inquest.

He was just 12 years old at the time, but he was home the morning that Lori disappeared, and so he could have been a valuable witness to the events at his neighbor's house. but young Bud didn't have anything to offer that moved the case forward at that point. The inquest resulted in a whole lot of nothing. There were no arrests and no major breakthroughs. Later reporting would suggest that some witnesses who testified during the process pointed to a person they believed was responsible for Lori's disappearance, but there was no direct evidence to back up their finger pointing.

And there was still nothing to prove what exactly had happened to Lori. or even whether she was dead or alive. Wayne Delisle remained on the investigation's radar. His criminal history and proximity to the scene of the disappearance, paired with some rumors around town, kept him on the suspect list. According to reporting by Kelvin Hare for the Orlando Sentinel, authorities in Vermont did what they could from a distance

and asked police in Florida to keep a close eye on Wayne. But time kept passing. More than six months went by without any sign of Lori after that. The investigation continued, even intensified at times. Yet by the summer of 1977, investigators were admitting they had reached a standstill. That all changed in August. On Saturday, August 6th, two people launching a canoe in the Lemoyle River near Route 108 in Jeffersonville noticed something in the water about 50 yards from the road and a picnic area.

When they got closer, they realized it was a body. The remains were badly decomposed to the point that it wasn't immediately clear, whether it was a man or a woman. The body was submerged in about three feet of water. It had been bound with rope at the knees and the neck and tied two cement blocks. An autopsy determined the body was female, and dental records confirmed it was Lori Gagne. Vermont's chief medical examiner Dr. Lawrence S. Harris ruled the cause of death,

to be strangulation and believed she had been killed around the time she disappeared in November of 1976. Additional testing was conducted to determine whether she had died before or after entering the water. Investigators ultimately concluded that Lori had been strangled first before she was bound and placed in the river, with the cement blocks likely intended to weigh her down and conceal her remains. If not for the seasonal low water levels, the remains might have gone on notice. for who knows how long. Yet even with that confirmation, the case did not immediately move forward. There had been months of rumors and speculation around town about who might be responsible for Lori's disappearance. But even after her body was found, there still wasn't enough evidence to support

an arrest. A grand jury was expected to convene in late 1977 to hear evidence in the case, but if it did, it didn't result in any charges. The investigation was expected to convene. slowed again. By the two-year anniversary of Lori's disappearance and death, investigators were describing the case as having reached a dead end, hoping that something, anything, would eventually materialize. For more than a decade, nothing did. The case was stuck, until someone who had been watching it unfold from the inside finally spoke up. State Police Detective Sergeant William Northrop had spent months building a release relationship with Bud, Wayne Delisle's son. Bud had done several undercover operations with police,

so there was some trust between him and Northrop. During that time, the detective never directly asked Bud about his father or Lori, but he didn't have to. Bud had brought it up on his own in September of 1989. Bud told the investigators that he remembered the day Lori disappeared very clearly, because it was the day before his 12th birthday. And as he described it, it was the day his father started acting strange. According to Bud, Lori came to their house twice the night before she disappeared.

He said she had been demanding that Wayne buy her horse blankets and take her horses to be shod and that if he didn't, she had a dark tale to tell. He claimed his father and Lori had been having an affair and the dark tale she hinted at was a veiled threat that she was going to tell his wife about it. Bud said his father flew out the door, screaming at Lori that if she ever came back, he would kill her. The next morning, November 4, 1976, Bud said his father left the house shortly after his stepmother, around 6 a.m., and went over to Lori's home. He said he was gone no more than 15 minutes.

When he came back, Bud said he watched as his father took a tarp from their barn and placed it in the back of his truck. He also remembered hearing the sound of cinder blocks hitting the bed of the pickup. He believed those blocks came from the foundation of their house. Bud said his father warned him and his brother not to talk about anything they had seen. Normally the boys were responsible for cleaning the horse barn, but that morning, their father insisted they go straight to school instead. Bud's account gave investigators something they had never had before, a direct allegation tied to specific details from someone inside the home of Lori's next-door neighbor who had long been a suspect in her case.

So, on the morning of March 8, 1990, in Deltona, Florida, Wayne Delilah Sr. had just dropped his daughter off at school when he realized he was being followed. He tried to run but didn't get far. officer stopped him and took him into custody at gunpoint on a warrant out of Vermont. He was charged with first-degree murder in the death of Lori Gagneau. With Wayne Delilah in custody, investigators searched his property in Florida and the surrounding areas using specially trained search and cadaver dogs. They didn't find any additional physical evidence during those searches.

Inside his home, though, they found items that raised alarming new questions. Investigators seized dozens of nude photographs of women from Wayne's home, around 30 Polaroids in total. The items had been locked inside a safe, which Wayne refused to open or provide the combination, so investigators had to obtain a warrant and bring the safe to be opened by locksmith. Three of those photos in the safe appeared to show Lori Gagne. Investigators also recovered a letter believed to have been written by Lori to Wayne. Michael Hawthorne reports for the Daytona Beach News Journal

that other contents of the safe included photos of Wayne with unidentified women engaged in sexual activity along with a lock of hair. It's unclear whose lock of hair this was. The photos strengthened evidence that investigators already had against Wayne, evidence that seemed to back up Bud's sworn statement. The cinder blocks used to weigh down Lori's body in the river

were identified as the same unique pink-colored stone painted black that had been used in the foundation of Wayne's home in Vermont, just as his son Bud had suspected. And the tarp wrapped around Laurie's body was also described as being similar to one Wayne owned at the time. Still, the case was not without its challenges. People close to Wayne Delisle questioned Bud's credibility. Wayne's other son, Adam Delisle,

described Bud as someone known to lie. saying his claims should be taken with a grain of salt. Adam suggested Bud may have been motivated by his own legal troubles and he questioned why he had waited nearly 14 years to come forward. He also said Bud had never spoken to him about Lori's disappearance before, which was odd to him. Bud himself described a strained and violent relationship with his father, saying, quote,

He can't stand me and I can't stand him. We have a long time bad relationship. He was never known. no kind of father or husband. He was a violent person. He would give us all a good trouncing in a minute. End quote. As the case built, Wayne fought extradition back to Vermont, but a judge ordered his return in April of 1990. Once back in Vermont in May, he pleaded not guilty to the charges. So much of the case against Wayne Delisle for Lori Gagne's murder depended on the testimony of Bud Delisle. But by 1990, Bud was becoming a problem for both sides. Richard Cowperthwaite reports for the

free press that he had become increasingly unpredictable and had even threatened to leave Vermont and refused to testify against his father. And then in June of that year, Bud was arrested in Vermont for allegedly assaulting his wife. He was released on $500 bail, but the person who posted it later asked for the money back. Bud was scheduled to appear for a bail revocation. hearing and didn't show, leading to a warrant for his arrest. He was arrested again in Florida on seven felony charges, including attempted grand theft and multiple forgery counts. His wife was also arrested on similar charges. While the state's key witness was facing his own significant legal troubles, Wayne Delisle's trial originally scheduled to begin September 10, 1990, was delayed,

as both sides argued over what evidence would be allowed, and whether or not that he was allowed. and whether the case could even proceed as charged. The defense pushed to have the first-degree murder charge dismissed, arguing the state could not prove premeditation, which was an essential element of first-degree murder. However, prosecutors pointed to Bud's account of Wayne threatening to kill Lori the night before she disappeared, as evidence of premeditation.

There were also disputes over Bud's credibility. The defense requested that he undergo a psychological evaluation, while the state argued there was no indication he was unable to tell the truth and that it would ultimately be up to a jury to decide whether to believe him. The defense also sought to exclude evidence found in Wayne's home, including the photographs recovered from the save. As those pretrial motions dragged on into mid-October, jury selection was expected to begin on October 15th, 1990.

But for a moment, it appeared the case might never reach a jury at all. because both sides reached a plea agreement. Under the deal, Wayne would get to plead no contest to a reduced charge of manslaughter and receive a lighter sentence. The term suggested Wayne could serve as little as two years of a 10-to-15-year sentence before being placed on long-term probation. A state's attorney later acknowledged that the agreement was reached because the murder case appeared, quote-unquote, weak.

The agreement still required approval from a judge, and Judge Michael Cooper Smith ordered a pre-sentence investigation ahead of a sentencing hearing scheduled for December of 1990. When the report came back, it recommended that the judge reject the deal, noting that Lori's family believed the proposed sentence was too lenient, given the nature of the crime. In March of 1991, the judge ultimately agreed and rejected the plea. With that decision, the case moved back toward trial. The first-degree murder charge was reinstated,

and Wayne again pleaded not guilty. But even then, the case faced another setback. Before trial, it was revealed that investigators had lost one of Lori's neck bones, which was critical evidence that had reportedly shown a fracture consistent with strangulation. The defense argued that the missing bone undermined the prosecution's case and moved to have the charges dismissed. Prosecutors countered that the medical examiner who performed the autopsy could still testify about the injury, and that was good enough for the judge.

The case was allowed to proceed to trial after all. Wayne Delisle's trial finally began in September of 1991. At the center of the case was Bud's testimony about the day Lori vanished. Bud told jurors that at the time of Lori's murder, and for many years before and since, he had been afraid of his father. He described a lifetime of abuse at the hands of the elder Delisle, saying he had never met a man so mean. But now, fear was not a factor for Bud, and his memory of that day in 1976 was crystal clear. Still, Bud's credibility remained a focal point. During testimony, Bud acknowledged that he had contacted

his father's defense attorney before trial asking for money. According to reporting by Bob Hookway for the free press, he said it happened months after he had already given his statement to police and claimed it was because he was dissatisfied with what the state had provided to cover his travel expenses to testify. The defense framed it differently, suggesting it was an attempt to extort money, implying that if Bud got paid, the state's key witness might disappear. For what it's worth, a recording of the phone call was introduced at trial. it did not include a direct request for money, though Bud made statements such as, quote,

If I can help you out, here I am, end quote. Interestingly, Wayne Delisle Sr. testified in his own defense. He admitted to having an affair with Lori, but denied killing her. He also denied telling conflicting stories about her death to former wives. One ex-wife had claimed that Wayne told her, Lori had ridden her horse into his pickup truck and that this had caused her death, but Wayne said he never made that statement. He also addressed his sudden departure from Vermont,

saying he left because Lori's husband Ricky had threatened his life after she went missing, and his hasty exit had nothing to do with running from what the state alleged he did to her. At the end of it all, one of the key battles in the trial came down to jury instructions. Prior to deliberations, the defense requested that jurors be given the option to consider a lesser charge of voluntary manslaughter, arguing that the evidence could support a scenario where Lori's death resulted from a sudden emotional confrontation rather than a premeditated act. But the judge declined to give that instruction on the basis that the statute of limitations for manslaughter had already expired, and Wayne refused to waive that.

protection. That decision meant the jury would have to choose between first-degree murder, second-degree murder, or acquittal. After hearing all the evidence, the jury deliberated for 15 hours. When they returned, it was with a split verdict. Wayne Delisle was found not guilty on first-degree murder, but guilty of second-degree murder. The jury concluded that the state had not proven premeditation beyond a reasonable doubt. In December of 1991, Wayne's attorney filed for a new trial, arguing that the case was largely circumstantial

and that too much time had passed since the crime, making witness testimony unreliable. The request for a new trial was denied. The state had sought a sentence of 40 years to life, but in January of 1992, Wayne Delisle was sentenced to 20 to 50 years in prison for second-degree murder,

with parole eligibility after 12 years. The verdict may have brought a conviction, but it didn't settle anything. The jury had rejected first-degree murder. What the evidence didn't clearly establish was premeditation. The relationship between Lori and Wayne, described as volatile and deteriorating, combined with manual strangulation as the manner of death,

left open the possibility that her death resulted from a sudden heated confrontation rather than a planned act. Even the prosecution at one point acknowledged it could have been a crime of passion. So going off that, in February of 1993, the Vermont Supreme Court heard arguments on Wayne's appeal. One of the central issues was whether the jury

should have been instructed on the lesser charge of voluntary manslaughter. The trial judge had declined to give that instruction because the statute of limitations for manslaughter had expired and Wayne refused to, waive that protection. On appeal, Wayne's attorney argued that he should not have been forced to choose between his right to have the jury consider a lesser charge and his right to rely on the statute of limitations. The state countered that allowing both would have effectively let a defendant

have his cake and eat it too, meaning he'd be benefiting from the instruction while avoiding punishment if convicted of the lesser offense. Essentially, have the judge told him, told the jury they could consider manslaughter, and then the jury found Wayne guilty of manslaughter, he'd walk free at that point, given the expired statute of limitations. Feels like a loophole, really. The state's highest court considered the arguments and ultimately found that the trial court had aired. It ruled that the jury should have been allowed to consider manslaughter, but with clear

instruction that a conviction on that charge could not result in sentencing due to the statute of limitations. Because that option was not presented, the court reversed Wayne's conviction and ordered a new trial. The decision hit a reset button on the case. A new trial was scheduled for January 9, 1995, but it never took place. Instead, Wayne accepted a plea agreement, entering a no-contest plea to second-degree murder, the same charge he'd been found guilty of during the original trial. Prosecutors cited evidentiary challenges in the loss of witnesses over time as factors that weakened the case, making the plea deal the best option in their minds. Under the agreement, Wayne was sentenced to 20 to 50 years for second-degree murder, with all but seven and a half years suspended.

He would also face up to 50 years of probation. With credit for time already served, The sentence meant he could be released within about a year. And he was. Wayne Delisle walked out of prison in July of 1995. Wherever he went, people protested. He was initially placed in an apartment in Burlington, but neighbors quickly forced him out. He was moved to a motel in South Burlington

only to be relocated again after public pressure. Residents in other parts of Vermont, as well as New York and Florida, objected to having a convicted killer in their communities. Part of the controversy stemmed from how his release was handled. Robert Benincasa reports for the free press that the Vermont Department of Corrections had not initially notified local police

when placing him in those towns. They actually weren't required to do so, but once they did, as a courtesy, word spread fast. Law enforcement warnings read, quote, subject should be considered dangerous and closely monitored while in the presence of women, end quote. With a description like that, it's not all too surprising that angry locals made their concerns known. Where Wayne really wanted to go was Florida, to live with his mother in Daltona, where he resided at the time of his arrest several years earlier,

but authorities there resisted. For one thing, he had no job lined up, which was part of the terms of his release, But perhaps more critically, he already had a reputation among law enforcement there as a suspect in multiple unsolved cases predating his arrest for Laurie's murder. As early as 1978, just a year after he moved to Florida, law enforcement had Wayne Delisle at the top of suspect lists in at least seven sexual assault cases in the state. He was a known presence to police, someone whose name kept coming up, but he was never convicted in any of those cases. A prosecutor who dealt with Wayne described him as, quote, the most frustrating defendant in his 10-year career.

Some of the reported survivors were women on the margins, sex workers, women struggling with substance use, and young people who had run away from home. They were individuals who either feared testifying or, if they did, were considered unreliable witnesses. The cases often fell apart. In one case, Wayne was charged with kidnapping. He testified that he never touched the woman. He was accused of picking up while she hitchhiked and driving her somewhere against her well. He was acquitted in that case. In another, he was charged with the rape of a 68-year-old woman, but prosecutors dropped the case due to insufficient evidence. A separate rape charge was also dropped.

when another survivor refused to testify. Now, Bud would later claim that his father's parents had paid off victims to keep them from testifying. This allegation was investigated but never publicly addressed. As if seven sexual assault cases wasn't enough, Wayne was also considered a suspect in multiple homicide cases. According to reporting by Constance Johnson for the Orlando Sentinel, the victims were all found within a sure. short distance of Wayne's home in Deltona, Florida.

One of those cases was 26-year-old Connie Renee Seedom. The Daytona Beach Morning Journal reports that Connie had left work around 1 p.m. on April 23, 1984, telling coworkers she was going out to lunch, and she was last seen by neighbors entering her home around 1.30 that afternoon. A search of her home after she was reported missing showed that her car and personal belongings were still there, but Connie wasn't, and there were no signs of forced entry or a struggle. Search efforts included police dogs, helicopters, and divers combing nearby Crystal Lake. Friends and family distributed posters hoping for information.

But then about a year later, a teenager walking in a wooded area near where Davenport Drive ends, adjacent to Dewey O'Buster Park, and two blocks from Connie's home, found human remains, including a jawbone with several teeth intact. He brought it to his biology teacher, who recognized it as human and told the student to contact police. The bones were later determined to be Connie's. Her cause of death was never determined. According to investigators, Wayne DeLyle had been seen mowing a lawn near Connie's home on the day she disappeared. Another case involved 24-year-old Denise Dansby from Fort Worth, Texas. According to Rick Tanya's reporting for the Orlando Sentinel,

Denise disappeared in May of 1989 while on a solo trip to Florida. She flew into Orlando on May 4th, checked into a Days Inn, and visited Walt Disney World that evening. The next day, she checked into a different Days in in Daytona Beach Shores. Investigators believe whatever happened to Denise occurred in the short window of time between when she parked her car at the motel and when she was supposed to enter her room. She never made it inside.

The bed appeared untouched. Her luggage and plane ticket were still in her rental car in the hotel's parking garage, but her purse and key were missing. She failed to return the rental car by the due date. When Denise didn't come home as expected, her parents reported her missing. Credit card receipts later showed someone

using her cards in the Fort Worth, Dallas area, forging her signature within two miles of her parents' home. Eight months later, Denise's body was found in the woods near Austin Cemetery Road in Deltona. Some reports indicate she had been strangled, while others state only that her remains showed signs of violent trauma or that a cause of death could not be determined due to decomposition. Her murder remains unsolved. Investigators placed Wayne Delisle in the Daytona Beach area on the day Denise disappeared.

There was also the case of a Jane Doe found in Lake Butler in Deltona on December 22, 1987. She had been strangled and her body had been weighted down in the water, details that closely resemble Lori Gagne's murder. That put Wayne Delisle on the suspect list. However, a father and son from Delaware were arrested and charged in that case. The victim was identified as 15-year-old Wendy Townsend. The case is considered solved. Wayne was questioned in connection with all three cases, Connie, Denise, and Wendy,

but the most recent public source material for Connie and Denise's cases indicate that there is no physical evidence tying him to those murders. Still, I can't help but wonder what else Wayne might have been capable of. An FBI profile developed in the early 1980s suggested that based on his history, Wayne would likely become more violent over time. And I don't think you end up accused of seven sexual assaults and have your name on suspect lists for multiple homicides because of a misunderstanding. Either he had the worst luck ever,

or he's a predator that was able to operate unchecked. Now here's where I get the shivers. Wayne worked as both a landscaper and a truck driver. As a truck driver, he had the ability to try to, travel and move between places without drawing attention. Could he have moved across the United States, leaving a trail of unsolved cases in his wake? I'm going to tell you everything I've compiled about Wayne Delisle Sr. If this sounds like the suspect in any of the unsolved cases you've heard about in Vermont

or Florida or New York, or really any other location, please raise your hand and tell the appropriate agency. Survivors of alleged assaults described similar behaviors by Wayne, being transported to remote locations, restrained, beaten, and sexually assaulted. Some accounts suggested victims were even hung from trees. One detail about his physical description came up repeatedly. His thumbs were unusually large. Investigators also found items in his possession that added to the concern, like locks of hair, and according to reports other personal items believed to be taken from victims. He reportedly kept clippings of pubic hair in his wallet.

In at least Lori's case, we know she was strangled, bound, and waded down in water in an apparent attempt to conceal the body using rope and heavy objects like cement blocks that were at his disposal. In other instances, he was suspected of targeting women who were alone and vulnerable, approaching them in everyday settings or while they were traveling, and then isolating them before the assault. In his work as a landscaper and a truck driver, he had access to residential areas

and the ability to travel between locations without drawing attention. Across cases, there are recurring elements, control, restraint, isolation, and in some instances an effort to dispose of victims in a way that would delay or prevent discovery. If there are other victims, the patterns may already be out there waiting to be recognized. For years, people around him were afraid to speak up. Wayne was described as someone who ruled by fear and intimidation.

Any threat he might have posed is gone now. According to some research on genealogy websites, Wayne Delisle Sr. died in 2023. But if he had other secrets, they don't have to die with him. If you have any information about the murder of Denise Dansby or Connie Seedum, please email the Volusia County Cold Case Unit at Cold Case Unit Tips at volusia sheriff.gov. To submit an anonymous tip, call Crime Stoppers at 888277 Tips. Thank you for listening to Dark Down East. You can find all source material for this case at darkdowneast.com.

Be sure to follow the show on Instagram, at Dark Down East. This platform is for the families and friends who have lost their loved ones and for those who are still searching for answers. I'm not about to let those names or their stories get lost with time. I'm Kylie Lowe, and this is Darkdowneast. Dark Down East is a production of Kylie Media and Audio Check. I think Chuck would approve.