Dateline Originals - Internal Affairs - Ep. 1: The Grim Reaper

Episode Date: December 19, 2023

When a wife and mother is murdered in Greeley, Colorado, responding investigators suspect the costumed killer is someone they know.This episode was originally published on September 20, 2022. 

It was dark when the killer shut off the engine. Only the soft ticks of cooling metal broke the silence. It was still warm and toasty inside the truck. Outside, where mounds of snow lined the alley, temps were in the teens. A quick wardrobe check and the killer would be ready. Black robe, black gloves, black gun. One can imagine a short, steadying breath before the killer pulled on the Halloween mask.

It was a grim reaper number. Black mesh allowed the wearer to see out, but no one to see in. It came with a black peaked hood attached. All of it cost a couple of bucks at Walmart. Up to this instant, it would have been easy to drive away, easy to do nothing, to melt into the city and become one of the faceless. Oh, but now, No, now the killer was committed. Pressure had been building like steam in a boiling teapot for weeks. No, months, really. The killer knew the target's routine,

knew the woman would be locking up and stepping into the parking lot any minute now. The thing had to be done, and it had to be done right now. The Grim Reaper opened the truck door and walked briskly to the kill zone. Yeah, somebody's been shot. Somebody's been shot? Yeah, right on the ground. She's on the ground right now. We just ran around. Somebody walked out of your room, I lightened a mask, and just shot her in the hand. Didn't see them. Didn't see their face. Didn't see their hands.

You don't have often that someone puts on a Grim Reaper mask and comes down the alley and picks somebody out. There's blood everywhere. Okay, and you're sure she's not breathing at all? Is she breathing? out. What was it that caused the killer to get out of the truck that night to confront a woman who was walking with co-workers to her car and then pull the trigger? Was it money? Was it love? Was it pride? Well, people have had affairs and mistakes and stuff like that. Well, I paid a heavy, heavy, heavy price. You reap what you sow. This is a story of men and women who considered themselves to be good and decent. They were people who pursued truth at work while living lies at home. I think there are many villains in this. I think everybody that

turned a blind eye is a villain. You'll hear plenty about villains in our story, but really this could be a story about anyone. Anyone who ignores their better angels and their better instincts and becomes caught in the tentacles of circumstance. I mean, when you're deceptive, when you betray a trust, sometimes there's a consequence, and sometimes the consequence is one you can't even predict. This story is a little different from others we've covered because it's more about why the murder happened than how it happened. It's the story of how those two lives, killer and victim,

came to collide in that parking lot on a freezing Colorado night. Who was guilty of murder? Who was not? And who got away with it? Our investigation will answer some of those questions. On others, you'll be judge and jury. I'm Josh Mankiewicz, and this is Internal Affairs, a podcast from Dateline. It was closing time on a Tuesday night.

A small group of 20 and 30-somethings stood outside the Colorado State Employees Credit Union in Greeley, Colorado. They were waiting for their supervisor to lock up. They were a collegial bunch. They all enjoyed each other's company, and so even now, at the end of a long workday, they lingered, their frozen breath rising in clouds as they laughed and huddled against the January cold. After years of working together, the credit union employees were like family. They all knew the past few months had been particularly tough for their supervisor, Heather Garris. Marital troubles and more. But now, well, things seem to be improving. A recent family trip to Florida for Christmas had seemed to lift her spirits. So as Heather joined the group and they walked toward their cars,

her face was bright and cheerful. They were about to say their last goodbyes when one of the credit union employees, Nicole Cordova, noticed a figure approaching them, walking fast. As we got closer to the parking lot, someone dressed in all black, in a black robe with a black hood, black, I would say, mask, some type of material over the face. I saw them out of the left side of my vision. Some in the group noticed the approaching figure seemed to be wearing black slip-on shoes that had a broad white stripe around the sole. As the person got closer, they said, you, you. And, you know, we just kind of all stopped in

our tracks. And the person pointed out Heather. And then I just started running once I knew it wasn't me. And then as I was running, I heard, you ruined my life. Mindy Mader, another coworker, was standing right next to Heather Garris when the Grim Reaper said this to Heather. You, I want you. You wouldn't give me a loan. You wouldn't give me a loan. Those are not usually the last words anyone hears.

Next, Mindy remembered the Grim Reaper ordering Heather to her knees and then pointing a black pistol at her head. She was on her knees with her hands up looking at me. Brad Mitchell, who had by then taken cover behind his car, says he saw Heather drop to her knees just before he heard shots. I heard two shots go off. Then after the first shot, I got in my car to call 911. We're on the bullet and they're hitting east.

Or hitting south, hitting south. We're wearing all black, kind of like a trench coat. They have like a mask on. I don't want to follow them. No, no, definitely don't. So are you with the female? How old is she? I am.

She is like 36. 36? Yeah. Okay. She's not moving at all. Julie Villa, a patron at the nearby Dugout Bar and Grill, and Nick Walker, an off-duty bartender there, were outside having a cigarette on the patio behind the restaurant

when they heard the two pops. We heard two sounds like cap sounds. They were loud. That's the voice of Julie Villa. Seconds later, Julie says, a figure clad in black ran past them in the alley behind the restaurant and jumped into a dark green pickup truck. It was a Ford 140, Ford 150. I knew it was the logo. I knew that that, I knew it was a Ford. I didn't know then if it was 140 or 150. Julie says she and Nick watched the truck peel out and fishtail south down the alley with no lights on.

Then it turned right on 26th Street. As soon as the truck was out of sight, Julie and Nick ran toward the sounds of screams. There, near the north edge of the parking lot that ran along 25th Street, Nick saw a small knot of panicked people standing near the body of a young woman who lay motionless on the asphalt. Two of them had cell phones tightly pressed to their ears. A nurse who'd been drinking at the dugout at the time stepped forward to see what she could do.

Heather's face was covered in blood. Her lips were blue. The nurse knelt down and felt for a pulse. She found none. Heather Lynn Garris, wife and mother, was pronounced dead a few minutes later at Northern Colorado Medical Center. She was just two weeks shy of her 38th birthday. Who shot Heather Garris and why? Well, those were the questions that would take

Greeley detectives places they never thought they would go. Heather Hodges was a beautiful young woman, no doubt about it. The kind that stood out in a crowd. Whether walking past the colorful mural in Candelaria Hall, or laughing with friends outside the University of Northern Colorado's Michener Library, Heather made an impression. Long black hair caping away from her face when she walked. Luminous brown eyes that sparkled when she laughed, flashing that hundred-watt smile. No wonder that Ignacio Garris, Ig ig to his friends was captivated at first sight

my roommate from college introduced us and i said boy that's a pretty girl and turned out that she was a sociology major too and we both obviously had classes. There was Candelaria Hall, which the majority of the sociology classes were based out of. So we started passing each other in the hallway, talking a little bit more and more and more. I ran into her at a party and I walked her home and got to know her and asked her out really on a date at that point, a long time ago. Yes, it was. It was the 1989-1990 school year. The Iron Curtain was crumbling. Bush the Elder was in the White House. Driving Miss Daisy dominated the Oscars. And two guys called Millie Vanilli, who were not yet disgraced, were the hottest thing in pop. Jamie Harris was Heather's best friend and, back then, her college roommate.

She was just so bright. Like, when you saw her for the very first time, she had this smile. It was just unbelievable that you would never forget. And Ig? Well, he was the tall, dark, thick-shouldered jock type. A quick wit with an easy smile. And he seemed utterly taken with Heather. He was a nice guy.

And when she met him, they just fell in love. I mean, and he moved kind of in with us. I mean, he was there every single day in our house. And they would come in the door with these smiles. And it was fun to watch them fall in love. Though Ig and Heather had both grown up in Colorado, they came from different worlds. Ig's large Spanish-speaking family lived in North Glen, a working-class suburb of Denver. Ig's father, Julian, had immigrated to the States from the Basque region of Spain.

Heather grew up in what some Coloradans call the People's Republic of Boulder, a liberal and cosmopolitan home to the University of Colorado. Heather's mom and dad had been happily married for nearly 30 years. Ig's parents had divorced when he was still young. Heather's father, Bill, was a psychology professor who wrote books and scholarly papers about divorce's impact on children. And maybe that's what connected Heather and Ig, a shared desire for a settled family life. The house, the kids, the happily ever after, the works. One more thing.

Ig says Heather made it clear that all of that came at a price. And that was fidelity. Cheat on me, she said, and we're done. She was stone cold clear about that, that I would divorce you if you cheated on me. Oh, she loved him. She loved him. She's so happy. That's the voice of Heather's sister, Wendy.

And, I mean, they just hit it off right away. Their wedding was beautiful. It was a big Catholic wedding with all the trimmings in a cavernous modern church. Soaring vaulted ceiling, blonde wood pews, stained glass, candlelight, and flowers for days. The groom wore black tie and tails, the bride a traditional white dress with ruffled sleeves, a lace headpiece, and a long train. Ig was only 23 that day, Heather a year younger. Heather's father, Bill,

walked her down the aisle. On their honeymoon, Ig and Heather took turns documenting their new life together with a video camera, starting from the moment they walked into room 543 at the Hot Springs Lodge. We've got our Hershey Kisses and our complimentary Hot Springs Lodge champagne glasses.

And we've got our lovely complimentary roses and our note and our free swim passes. Saying congratulations from the Lodge. In those early days, life for Heather and Ig was so sweet, it seemed they wanted to save it in a bottle. Almost every first they experienced as a married couple was recorded so it could be savored later. So pretty. There was their first Halloween when Ig carved a pumpkin.

This would be an awesome pumpkin. And their first Christmas, when Heather tried to assemble their new artificial tree. Step on it. Do you need a man yet? And their first Christmas, when Heather tried to assemble their new artificial tree. Step one. Do you need a man yet? A man? Why would I need a man? No, no, no, that's not how that works. Yes, it is.

They gloried in giving each other sentimental hallmark cards. For my husband, I'm glad that you and me are us. I love you. I love you. I love you. And of course, they pulled out all the stops when birthdays rolled around. Aww. You're so sweet. Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday to you. These were the years when they started careers they hoped would see them through to retirement. Heather got a job at the Colorado State Employees Credit Union as a teller. Ig joined the Greeley Police Department as a patrolman. Was Heather worried about you during that time? She worried most about when I was undercover.

I'd never tell her when I'd do drug deals and stuff like that because it would only freak her out. You never worried about her being safe? Oh, no. No, God, no. The only thing I would be worried about was her working at the credit union being robbed. That was the only fear I'd ever have. Nothing ever had happened there. By 1997, Ig and Heather had a comfortable ranch-style house with a fenced backyard, a dog named Juno, a cat they called Gato, and a new baby girl, Victoria Shea Garris.

Victoria, Victoria, Victoria, oh my goodness, Victoria, I'm going to get you, I'm going to get you. I'm going to get you. For the Garrises of Greeley, Colorado, life was unfolding pretty much as they dreamed it would. Of course, there had been the usual setbacks and a couple of major heartaches along the way. Shortly after Ig and Heather were married, her father Bill died of a heart attack right in front of her. He was only 50. Two weeks later, her mother, Linda, learned she had breast cancer. She went through chemo and all that stuff, and then all of a sudden, about 12 years later,

this horrendous cough started coming up, and she pretty much laid it out that she wasn't going to do chemo again. Ultimately, she did, but she moved in with us more or less, and we watched her deteriorate. And that was tough on Heather? That was tough on both of us. She was a nice lady. The last two years of her life, she was on and off, staying with them.

That's Heather's sister, Wendy, again. What was the impact on Heather of that? It was hard, but she enjoyed having mom up there with her. In January 2003, Heather's mother died. Ig says the weight of her grief and anxiety about her own health seemed to put his wife into an emotional tailspin. Heather kind of started developing pretty hefty anxiety attacks and depression. And they had her on some medications that really just put her, I mean, really put the brakes on her. Sleepy, kind of lethargic.

Antidepressants? Yes. And Heather was very sensitive to medications. And she'd come home during that year and eat and then go up to the room and wouldn't see her until the next day. According to Ig, it was then that his 13-year marriage to Heather hit its most serious snag. Intimacy became absent in our relationship. It seemed like it was more of a chore than anything, which I didn't want. I went to counseling a couple times, and I was like, this is pointless. It's the drug. It's the drug.

You felt what? Estranged? Disaffected? Unloved? Unloved, neglected, and angry. And I couldn't confront her, because if I confront her, I set off an anxiety attack. So we end up in the ER. As their love life lagged, Ig says he began to notice that a woman at work seemed attracted to him,

seemed to want his attention. He was flattered, intrigued. Flirty banter was fun. She was a dispatcher, and you interacted. So I met her. And how'd she seem to you? She was fine. She went out of her way to help me.

Like, whenever I needed things, she'd take an extra step. Her name was Shawna Nelson. She'd started her career as a police dispatcher in 1992, a year after graduating high school. She had the kind of easy, earthy charm that worked well in the boys club world of law enforcement. From the jump, it was clear. Cops liked Shawna, and she liked them. After a short marriage to a fellow police dispatcher, Shawna married a Weld County sheriff's deputy named Ken Nelson in 1996. The couple had two preschool children. Shawna kept working as a Greeley police dispatcher. She liked the job. She liked the money.

Ig says he remembers bumping into Shawna several times at a Starbucks near the police station later that summer. It was there, he says, somewhere between the Venti Caramel Macchiato and the Grande Cafe Americana, that the flirting took a serious turn. She was having some problems with her husband, and I obviously was having some problems with Heather. And she, you know, we started confiding in each other. And one night it became intimate. And you were thinking to yourself, what? What the hell am I doing? But you still did it.

I still did it. Shauna was 33 that summer of 2004, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. And she had the kind of personality that Ig found irresistible. Was Shauna Nelson the first woman you ever stepped down on your wife with? Why her? I think because of her aggressive nature. I think I felt that all she wanted to do was sleep with me and be done with me. You thought she was a safe bet. Yeah.

Like all new affairs, this one was exciting. The sex? Pure recreation. No vows. No claims. No commitments. And no strings. And then, Ig says, Shauna started getting serious.

Maybe like three months in, she's like telling me that I'm the one, I'm the, you know, the love of her life. Don't I love her? I'm like, whoa. Listen, I'm not leaving my wife. I love my wife. This ain't going to happen. Back in 2008, when I spoke with Ig in a very long interview,

he told me he'd wanted to break off the affair that summer. The initial thrill, he said, had worn off. And Ig said he wanted to recommit to Heather. Except, he says, he couldn't summon the will or the courage to end it. He was stuck. You knew it was wrong when you did it. Absolutely. And you knew that Heather had said to you many times, you ever cheat on me, I'm out of here.

Yes. And you did it anyway. I guess my question is... Why did I? Why more than once? Yeah. I've already compromised myself morally. What's done is done. You know?

And I'm not going to be hypocritical and say, oh, well, it's just once. But I won't do it again. You know? Once is as much... One time is as much as 100 times. Once you've made that decision. Once you've crossed that moral boundary. Then going back doesn't absolve you. No. Heather, of course, wasn't blind or deaf.

She'd heard the rumors of an affair from another officer's wife. Fact was, Heather even knew who Shauna Nelson was because Shauna kept an account at the credit union. I think Heather was a little bit in denial too and accepted my word for it that I wasn't having an affair. You think she suspected? I think she suspected. So in September 2004, Heather confronted Ig, asked him straight out if he was having an affair. And Ig lied. We're just friends, he said,

with a straight face. Nothing to it. When Ig told Shauna his wife had confronted him about the affair, she did something extraordinary. She picked up the phone and called her lover's wife at the credit union where she worked. I told her that Ig and I were just friends. That's the voice of Shauna Nelson. I told her that I knew that Ig loved her and that I would never do anything to stand in the way of that. And I hope that she didn't believe the rumors that she was hearing. Chutzpah. Nervy. Audacious.

Choose any word you want, but it wasn't the truth. Not even close. In fact, at the very moment Shauna Nelson told Heather Garris she and Ig were just friends, she knew something else. Something that could not be kept secret for long. I had found out I was pregnant. Greeley is a mid-sized city on Colorado's high northern plains. It boasts picture-perfect views of the Rocky Mountains, 25 miles to the west.

When I got hired in 96, I think the population was close to 50,000. Today, it's about 110,000. That's the voice of Greeley police detective Mike Prill. He was one of the lead investigators on the Heather Garris murder case. So in 2007, when this crime happened, we were more around the realm of 80,000 for a population. Mike Prill is a cop's cop. Ten years as a U.S. Army MP right out of high school in the 80s and 90s. And then a long career with the Greeley PD.

Of all the cases he's worked over the years, the execution of Heather Garris has stayed with him. I've got like two offices just to kind of hold all of my major cases in one of the offices. And I've got a photo of certain victims from my homicides, and one of them is Heather. What made you want to hang on to her photo? Because she was just so innocent. Really, what it does is just makes me mad, to be honest. I mean, maybe it's potentially some motivation.

It's a reminder that human beings suck and that they're capable of all types of horrors. Now in his 50s, Prill has slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the look of a man who's spent some time in the sun. Prill says when he first joined the force in 1996, Heather's husband, Ignacio Garris, was one of the first officers he met. He was a drug cop when I got hired. So I knew him. I can remember going to his house one night for dinner with his wife. Oh, geez, it was in the late 90s.

It was shortly after I got hired. So Heather was at the house. She was a nice lady, checked in on us to make sure we didn't need anything. Otherwise, she really didn't interact with us. The details of that evening are a vague memory for Mike Prill, as are other social occasions when he spent time with Ig. I recall going fishing with him once. He was a nice guy to a certain extent, but as I got to know him more,

I recognized he had a temper. There was just something about him that didn't endear me with him. January 23rd, 2007. The night Heather Garris was murdered. Prill says he was working another case on the west side of town with a detective named Greg Tharp. When they got word there'd been a shooting at the Colorado State Employees Credit Union, the swing shift sergeant wanted them there ASAP. So Greg and I drove south down a main strip.

It's 71st Avenue. We got to the highway and turned east. Shortly after turning onto Highway 34, the police radio barked to life. A dark-colored Ford pickup truck, like the one witnesses saw leaving the shooting scene, had just been stopped by a couple of drug task force officers just off of 65th Avenue near University Schools, a K-12 charter school. Prill and Tharp were immediately diverted there.

We were, I don't know, man, eight blocks away. We were there within a minute or two. It was about 6.30 when the detectives pulled up behind the black Ford 250 pickup truck. Heather Garris had been dead for 15 minutes. Standing on the passenger side of the truck, talking with one of the arresting officers, was someone well-known throughout the Greeley Police Department. Within the hour, Tharp would be knee-to-knee with that person in a police interrogation room. This is just as hard for me to tell you,

knowing you the way I have and as long as I have. Okay, well, we've got witnesses that are putting you at the shooting scene. Next, on Internal Affairs. She would demand intimacy from me which is i know this is sounds off the wall but if i would not be intimate with her she'd get furious there was an affair it did go back and forth i think that there were times that she probably pursued Ignacio after they had ended it. There were times that he pursued her. I think it went both ways. Internal Affairs is a production of Dateline and NBC News.

Tim Beecham is the producer. David Varga and Jonathan Moser are audio editors. Matt Sullivan is assistant audio editor. Susan Nall is senior producer. Adam Gorfain is co-executive producer. Liz Cole is executive producer. And David Corvo is senior executive producer. From NBC News Audio, Bryson Barnes is technical director. Sound mixing by Bob Mallory. Nina Bisbano is associate producer.