Murder: True Crime Stories - Adam Walsh: The Murder That Built the Missing-Children Movement

Episode Date: July 6, 2026

Think about the last time an AMBER Alert lit up your phone, or the last time you heard a Code Adam announcement at Walmart. All of it traces back to one crime and one father who refused to let his son's death be the end of the story. In 1981, 6-year-old Adam Walsh vanished from a Sears in Hollywood, Florida. The investigation was a disaster, but his father, John Walsh, took that failure and built an entire national system for finding missing children. Because of him, hundreds of thousands of kids have come home.This is the final episode of The Crimes That Built America, a special four-part series on Murder: True Crime Stories hosted by Carter Roy. All four episodes are available now, ad-free, on Crime House Plus. Join at crimehouseplus.com or if you’re listening on Apple Podcasts, tap “Try Free” at the top of this show’s page.🎧 Need More to Binge? Listen to other Crime House Originals Clues, Crimes Of…, Serial Killers & Murderous Minds, Crime House 24/7, and more wherever you get your podcasts!Follow me on SocialInstagram: @CrimehouseTikTok: @CrimehouseFacebook: @crimehousestudiosYouTube: @murdertruecrimestories

Hi listeners, it's Carter Roy. Happy America 250. If you want to binge all four parts of our limited series about the crimes that built America ad-free, subscribe to Crime House Plus. With Crimehouse Plus, you'll get all four episodes right now instead of waiting. You'll also get every episode of murder, true crime stories, and the rest of the crime house shows ad-free and released early. To join, go to CrimehousePlus.com. listening on Apple Podcasts, tap try free at the top of this show's page. This is Crime House. Think about the last time an Amber Alert lit up your phone.

Now think about what you did next. Maybe you were scanning faces at the gas station, checking the parking lot at the grocery store, keeping your eyes peeled for a car you'd never seen before. Then there's the Code Adam announcement you've heard in a Walmart. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. The 1-800 number on the back of every missing child poster, the show America's Most Wanted. All of it trices back to one family, one crime, and one father who refused to let his son's story fade. His name was Adam Walsh.

He was just six years old when he vanished from a Sears department store in Hollywood, Florida in 1981. The investigation into his murder was a disaster from the start. Evidence was lost, confessions fell apart. Nobody was ever charged. But Adam's father, John, didn't let that break him. He took that failure and turned it into a system that protects every missing child in America today. because of him and because of Adam. Hundreds of thousands of other kids have come home.

People's lives are like a story. There's a beginning, a middle, and an end. But you don't always know which part you're on. Sometimes the final chapter arrives far too soon, and we don't always get to know the real ending. I'm Carter Roy, and this is murder, true crime stories. a crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. New episodes come out every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday,

with Friday's episodes covering the cases that deserve a deeper look. Today is the end of our series on the Crimes That Built America, in honor of the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States. Over the course of four Mondays, we've covered the cases that built the American criminal justice system as we know it, four tragedies that led to greater protection, for everyone. Miranda writes, the FBI, criminal profiling, and today the system that protects and advocates for missing children. Each one exists because of a specific crime, a specific family,

and a specific moment when the country decided enough was enough. Thank you for being part of the Crime House community. Please rate, review, and follow the show. If you're a Crime House plus subscriber, all four episodes are available right now, completely add free. If you haven't joined yet, go to crimehouseplus.com or tap try free on the Murder True Crime Story show page on Apple podcasts. You'll get part one and part two at the same time, plus exclusive bonus content. We've saved this episode for last because in some ways it hits closest to home. Every parent knows the feeling. You turn around and your child isn't where they will. were a second to go. For John and Ravei Walsh, that moment happened at a Sears in Hollywood, Florida,

in the summer of 1981. What came next changed their lives forever and completely altered the way this country protects its missing children. All that and more coming up. On the afternoon of July 27, 1981, Raveh Walsh took her six-year-old son, Adam, to run errands near their home in Florida. Their The last stop was the Sears Department Store inside the Hollywood Mall right across the street from the Hollywood Police Station. Rave was looking for a lamp, but inside the store, Adam spotted something more interesting. A crowd of older boys gathered around a display model of the Atari 2,600. It was all the rage that summer. Kids lined up in stores just to see the demos.

Adam asked his mom if he could stay and watch while she shopped. She said, sure, the toy department was just a few aisles away from where she needed to go. She'd be back in a few minutes. But when Ravei came back, Adam wasn't there. She searched the aisles. She called his name. Nothing. She went to the counter and had him paged over the loudspeaker.

Adam Walsh, please come to customer service. No answer. It was clear that something was very wrong. Rave called her husband, John. who raced to the mall. 35-year-old John Walsh was a hotel marketing executive who'd grown up in Auburn, New York, and built a career managing properties in the Bahamas in South Florida. Ravei was his partner in everything.

They'd married in 1971 and settled in Hollywood. Adam was their only child, born November 14, 1974. He was a bright, happy kid, but could be a little shy around people he didn't know. He liked baseball and cartoons. His parents adored him. Now he was gone. And nobody could tell them where he went. What Ravei didn't know was that while she'd been shopping,

a teenage security guard had told the group of boys at the video game display to leave the store. They'd been causing trouble, and the guard wanted them out. Adam, who was too shy to speak up and say his mother was right there, apparently followed the older boys toward the exit. Nobody knows exactly what happened next. Witnesses would later report seeing a man near the front of the store. Some described a blue van. Years later, others would describe a white Cadillac.

But one thing was for sure. Adam was gone. Two hours passed before Ravei called the police. She and John had torn through the store, checked every aisle. and walked the parking lot calling his name. The store's employees helped them look. But in 1981, if a child went missing from a store, there was no standardized response.

Nobody locked the doors. Nobody looked at security footage. Nobody knew what to do because nobody had ever been told what to do. And when Hollywood police arrived, they treated it as a missing person case, not an abduction. They told the Walsh's that Adam had probably wandered off and would turn up on his own. He didn't. Over the next four days, the department put about two dozen officers on the case.

Search teams covered them all, the surrounding blocks, and the nearby neighborhoods. A helicopter swept the area. Tips came in from across the region. None of them led anywhere. The Walshs described those first days as a... nightmare. Nobody seemed to be in charge, and the police department had no dedicated missing children unit or established protocol for a child abduction. Tips overwhelmed the switchboard, but there wasn't a system for processing them quickly. A call from a gas station attendant in

Jacksonville had to be relayed by phone to a Hollywood detective, logged by hand, and assigned to someone already juggling a dozen other leads. By day four, the investigation had stalled. So John and Ravei did something desperate. Through a mutual friend, they reached David Hartman, the host of Good Morning America. Hartman put Adam's picture in front of millions of people. Even more tips flooded the Hollywood police switchboard. For a few days, it felt like the country was paying attention.

But publicity wasn't the problem. The structure was. When the FBI finally got involved about a week after Adam disappeared, John Walsh learned something that reframed everything. The Bureau maintained a massive national database called the NCIC, the National Crime Information Center. It tracked fugitives, convicted felons, and stolen vehicles. If a car was reported stolen in Florida, a police officer in Oregon could pull it up in seconds.

but the NCIC didn't have a file for missing children. The category didn't exist. For John and Ravei, it felt like one piece of bad news after another. Those first two weeks were the worst of their lives. Every day began with the hope that today would be the day Adam was found and every night ended with nothing. friends and neighbors organized their own search parties, strangers sent letters, the phone rang constantly with tips that turned out to be false sightings, psychics offering visions, and people claiming to have information that led nowhere. Ravei later described the experience as a kind of

paralysis. She knew Adam was somewhere, and that every hour that passed made it less likely he'd be found alive. She also knew that the people responsible for finding him were out of ideas. Then on August 10th, two fishermen on a drainage canal near Vero Beach, Florida, roughly 120 miles north of Hollywood, pulled something out of the water. It was Adam's severed head. His body was never found. The Walsh's were in New York preparing for another appearance on Good Morning America when they got the call. John later said, I started screaming and trashed the hotel room. I didn't believe that someone could kill this beautiful little boy. The most horrible thing was telling Ravei. In the weeks that followed, John Walsh fell apart. He lost 30 pounds. He couldn't eat. He couldn't eat.

he couldn't sleep. He said he lost the will to live. The man who'd built a career solving problems for other people had no idea how to survive this one. His marriage almost didn't make it. Grief doesn't always pull two people in the same direction, and for John and Ravey had pulled them to opposite ends. His rage turned outward, while hers turned inward. They fought and went through stretches where they could barely talk. It would take years before they found solid ground again. But somewhere in those dark months, something shifted. John later said that what saved him wasn't therapy or faith or time. It was purpose. The store had no protocol. The police had treated a missing child like a runaway. The FBI had no mechanism for tracking missing children.

Every one of those failures was something that could be fixed. And if nobody else was going to do something about it, he would. John started reading everything he could find about missing children in America. The numbers were staggering and the infrastructure was almost non-existent. Parents whose children disappeared had no national resource to contact. Police departments in different states had no way to share information. Part of the reason was cultural. In 1981, missing children weren't seen as a national law enforcement priority. When a child vanished, local police typically assumed they were a runaway or that a custody dispute was involved.

Stranger abductions were considered so rare that the federal government had never built a system to address them. The FBI didn't track missing children because, in the eyes of the bureau, that wasn't what the FBI was for. But John Walsh realized that what had happened to his family wasn't an anomaly, and that realization turned his grief into a mission. Within four months of Adam's murder, John and Ravei Walsh were in. in Washington, D.C., sitting in front of the United States Congress. They were there for Adam and for all the kids who might still come home. On November 18, 1981, John and Ravei Walsh testified before the House Judiciary Subcommittee on Missing Children in Washington, D.C.

Adam had been dead for three months. An Associated Press photographer captured John and Ravei at the hearing, They looked like what they were. Two parents who'd been through something unimaginable and were now trying to make sure it meant something. John told the committee what had happened to his son. How a store let a six-year-old walk out the door and nobody noticed. How the FBI didn't get involved for a week. How the national database that tracks stolen cars across 50 states had no place to put a missing child's name.

He told them that he and Ravei had been left completely alone, and that no parent in America should ever have to face what they faced. He wasn't a polished speaker. He was a father who'd buried his son three months earlier. The committee could hear the anger in his voice. Over the next year, Walsh threw himself into political advocacy with an intensity that surprised everyone who knew. him. He worked with Senator Paula Hawkins of Florida to draft new legislation. He testified at multiple hearings. He met with lawmakers from both parties, called their offices, wrote letters, and did press.

Eventually, all his work paid off. In October of 1982, President Ronald Reagan signed the Missing Children Act into law. For the first time, the FBI was required to enter. missing children's information into the NCIC. Parents would have access to the database. Local police could search it across state lines. The gap that had made Adam invisible to federal law enforcement was now closed. The law was a start. But John understood that changing the rules wasn't the same as changing the culture.

The country needed to feel the urgency the way he did. So in 1983, he worked with NBC to produce a made-for-TV movie about his son. The film, simply called Adam, aired on October 10, 1983. It starred Daniel J. Travante and Joe Beth Williams as John In Revei, and it walked viewers through the abduction, the search, the discovery, and the aftermath. 38 million Americans saw the first broadcast, making, at one of the highest rated television events of the year. Families sat in their living rooms and watched a story that most of them had only read about in newspapers. The parents on screen looked like them.

The seers looked like the one they went to. They had all felt the terror of losing their child, even for a moment, but the movie made it real. And the story didn't stop when the credits rolled. After that, the screen filled with photographs of real missing children. Their names, their descriptions, their last known locations, and a phone number for anyone with information. For most Americans, it was the first time they'd ever seen anything like that on TV. Phones at the tip line rang for hours afterward. When NBC rebroadcast the film in 1985,

President Reagan himself introduced the photo segment and said, maybe your eyes can help bring them home. The movie changed the temperature of the conversation. Missing children were no longer a policy issue debated in committee rooms. They were a national crisis that tens of millions of people had watched unfold on their screens. Around the same time, the film was airing. A man in a Florida prison started talking. His name was Otis Toul.

He was 36 years old, a convicted arsonist and drifter, already serving time for unrelated crimes. He was also the longtime companion of Henry Lee Lucas, one of the most notorious serial confessors in American history. And both men had claimed responsibility for hundreds of murders. Most of those claims turned out to be lies, but not all of them. So the police had to take what Toole said seriously. On October 10, 1983,

Toole told a Jacksonville investigator that he had kidnapped a boy from a Florida mall and killed him. Nine days later, Hollywood detectives visited him in prison. Tool confessed to murdering Adam Walsh. He told them he'd been outside the Sears that day in July of 1981 and lured Adam into his white 1971 Cadillac with promises of toys and candy. Then he drove north on Interstate 95 toward Jacksonville. According to Toole, Adam panicked as they drove. He killed the boy with a machete and left his remains along the Florida Turnpike. Some of the details lined up.

His description of the killing, four or five blows with a machete, was consistent with the autopsy. Investigators searched Toll's home in Jacksonville and found a pair of green shorts and a sandal similar to what Adam had been wearing. But Toole got Adam's hair color wrong and described the wrong clothing when talking to authorities. He also initially claimed that Henry Lee Lucas had been with him during the abduction. That wasn't true. Detectives pointed out that Lucas was in a Virginia jail when Adam was taken. When Tool heard that, he changed his story and said he'd acted alone. And despite all of that, the Hollywood Police Department announced that they had found

Adam's killer. The case fell apart almost immediately. When investigators took Toll to the locations he described, he pointed to spots along the Turnpike where he said he'd left Adam's remains. Nothing turned up. And his story continued to shift each time he told it. He described different roads, different landmarks, and different details. And then things got even worse.

The blood-stained carpet from Tools Cadillac, which should have been the strongest piece of evidence in the case, was lost by the Hollywood Police Department. Nobody could explain where it went. Then the car itself vanished from the inbound lot. If the carpet and car had been preserved, it could have been tested for DNA just a few years later when the technology became available. Instead, both were gone,

and any hope of building a physical case against Tool went with them. John would later write, So many mistakes were made. It was shocking. inexcusable and heartbreaking. But the authorities weren't the only ones making things difficult. Tool himself made the case nearly impossible to prosecute. He recanted his confession, then confessed again, then took it back. He went back and forth for years changing his story each time. He had significant intellectual disabilities and a long history of telling investigators whatever he thought they

wanted to hear. When the Florida state attorney finally reviewed the case, the conclusion was straightforward. The confessions were unreliable, the physical evidence was gone, and there was nothing to bring to a jury. The Walsh's believed Toul had killed Adam, but proving it was now impossible. Even then, John Walsh didn't stop. In 1984, Congress passed the Missing Children's Assistance Act, which created the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, known as Neckmec. At a Rose Garden ceremony, President Reagan spoke about Adam by name. When Adam Walsh, a bright, happy six-year-old boy, disappeared in the summer of 1981, John and Ravei Walsh found themselves alone in their crisis.

They weren't anymore. The Missing Children Act had fixed the database. But the Walshs wanted something bigger, a living-breathing organization that could actually coordinate the search for a missing child. They co-founded NECMEC alongside other parents, including the mother of 12-year-old Johnny Goss, an Iowa paperboy who'd vanished in 1982. It was designed to be what the NCI see never could be. a central hub connecting parents, police, and federal agencies in real time. NECMEC launched a 24-hour hotline, 1-800-the-Lost, which became the number on every missing child poster,

every law enforcement bulletin, and every news broadcast in the country. For the first time, a parent whose child disappeared could pick up a phone and reach someone whose entire job was to help. A detective in one state could call Nekmec and find out whether a similar case had been reported 500 miles away. That same year, the faces of missing kids began appearing on milk cartons. The idea had roots that predated Adam. In 1979, a six-year-old boy named Aiton Patz had vanished while walking to a school bus in Manhattan's Soho neighborhood. His father, a professional photographer, had printed and did.

distributed the boy's photo across New York. The case made national news, and along with Adam Walsh, it became one of the defining tragedies of the missing children crisis. Aton's body was never recovered, and in 1983, Reagan designated May 25th, the anniversary of his disappearance as National Missing Children's Day. When the Milk Carton Campaign launched in late 1984, it started with a dairy in Des Moines, Iowa, printing photos of two missing local boys. Within months, the National Child Safety Council expanded the program nationwide.

Aeton was among the first children featured. Billions of cartons were printed. Missing children's faces appeared on grocery bags, pizza boxes, phone books, and utility bills. The direct success rate was low, and some critics argued the program scared children, but it put the crisis in front of every family in America, every morning at the breakfast table. Neckmec later called it one of the first steps in mass distribution of missing child posters. John Walsh saw the cultural shift happening and kept pushing. He'd founded the Adam Walsh Child Resources.

Center, it was a network of four organizations across the country, each focused on getting state legislatures to strengthen protections for children. Years later, the four Wall Centers would merge with NECMEC, giving the advocacy movement a permanent institutional home. John himself traveled constantly. He testified at state capitals. He met with police chiefs, prosecutors, and governors. He gave speeches to parent groups, schools, and civic organizations. He appeared on television and radio so frequently that his face became synonymous with the cause. It was grueling, unclamorous work, and John did it for years, burning through the family's savings. But along the way, something else happened. He got his spark back. He and Ravei had more children. Megan was born in

1982, just a year after Adam's death. Callahan came in 1985. The house was full again, even if the absence at the center of it never went away, and through all of it. The file on Adams' murder sat in a cabinet at the Hollywood Police Department unresolved. The irony was impossible to miss. The system John was building for other families worked. His His own son's case didn't. Hi, listeners, it's Carter Roy, host of murder true crime stories. I want to let you know that Crime House Plus and Murder True Crime Stories are celebrating America's 250th by dropping a four-part limited series on the crimes that built America.

These are the crimes and cases that gave us Miranda rights, sparked criminal profiling, and a murder that built America's missing. children movement. Follow murder true crime stories for a new episode every Monday leading up to July 4th, or you can binge all of them right now, add free with Crimehouse Plus. To join, go to crimehouseplus.com, or if you're listening on Apple Podcasts, tap try free at the top of this show's page. In 1988, the Fox Network came to John Walsh with a pitch for a TV show. The idea was to profile dangerous fugitives on national television. and ask viewers to call in tips.

Fox had considered other hosts, including journalists and a retired Marine Corps general, before someone suggested John. He wasn't a TV personality. He was a father who'd spent seven years turning his worst nightmare into a national movement. He was also the most recognizable face of victims' rights in America.

The decision wasn't easy. Hosting a weekly crime show would mean confronting violence every single week, talking to families who'd lost children and reliving his own loss on camera in front of millions of people. But it would also mean something nobody had ever tried before, giving the public a direct role in catching criminals. After thinking it over, John agreed. America's Most Wanted premiered on February 7th, 1988, on seven Fox Zone stations. Nobody knew if viewers would actually call in tips about people they recognize from TV.

They did. Within four days, the first fugitive featured on the show was in custody. His name was David James Roberts, a convicted murderer who'd escaped from an Indiana prison. He was on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted Lent. A viewer saw the broadcast, picked up the phone, and Roberts was arrested. The show became a phenomenon, tips poured in from viewers across the country, neighbors, coworkers, and strangers who recognized a face from the broadcast the night before. Fugitives who'd been on the run for years were identified at gas stations, bus stops, and apartment buildings everywhere.

John would later say that America's most most most people. wanted, confirmed something he'd believe since the day Adam disappeared. Ordinary people had always been willing to help. They just never had a way to do it. And the movement kept growing beyond the show. In January of 1996, nine-year-old Amber Hagerman was riding her bicycle in a parking lot in Arlington, Texas. When a man in a black pickup truck pulled up, dragged her off the the bike and drove away. A neighbor saw it happen and called the police. Four days later, Amber's body was found in a creek. Her killer was never identified. In the aftermath, a local resident asked a simple question. If the emergency broadcast system could interrupt programming for a tornado,

why couldn't it do the same for a missing child? It turned out, it could. Broadcasters, and law enforcement in the Dallas-Fort Worth area built a system named the Amber Alert. It was short for America's Missing, broadcast emergency response in Amber Hagerman's memory. John Walsh was a huge proponent of the Amber Alert. Within a few years, every state in the country had adopted it.

In 2003, President Bush signed the Protect Act, which provided federal coordination and funding. Today, those alerts go directly to your phone. In 1994, Walmart created Code Adam, a store safety protocol named for Adam Walsh, designed to lock down a location and search for a missing child the moment one is reported. If you've ever heard that announcement in a Walmart or a target,

that's Adam Walsh's name. On July 27, 2006, exactly 25 years to the day after Adam was taken, President George W. Bush signed the Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act into law. John and Ravey stood beside him at the White House. The law created a national sex offender registry and increased penalties for crimes against children. Every piece of it. The show, the alerts, the legislation, grew from the same route.

But America's most wanted took a toll that most viewers never saw. Every week, John sat across from parents whose children had been murdered and families who were torn apart by violence. He knew exactly what they were going through. He'd been there. He told People magazine, losing Adam broke my heart. It almost killed me. Believe me, you never get over it. He hosted the show for more than two decades and every single episode was in some way a conversation with his own grief.

And through all of it, he still didn't have an answer about what happened to his son. For 27 years, Adam's case was technically still open. Otis Tool, the only real suspect, died in prison in 1996 of liver failure. He was 49 years old and serving several. life sentences for unrelated murders. Before he died, Toole's niece told John that her uncle had confessed one final time on his deathbed, but in the eyes of the law, that didn't mean much. For the next 12 years, Adams case file sat in a cabinet at the Hollywood Police Department, officially open, but effectively dead. Other suspects' name surfaced over the years, including serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer,

who'd been in the Miami Beach area that summer, none of the leads went anywhere. It was a strange kind of limbo. John Walsh spent his professional life helping other families find closure. His own family couldn't get it. But on December 16, 2008, the Hollywood Police Chief held a press conference. He announced that the department was officially closing the Adam Walsh murder case and naming Audis Tool as the killer. The chief acknowledged numerous missteps in the investigation and apologized to the Walsh family for the failures that had prevented prosecution

decades earlier. John and Ravei stood in front of the cameras flanked by their three children, Megan Callahan Hayden, none of whom had been alive when Adam was taken. John looked tired. He'd been waiting for this moment for decades. He'd built a national organization, hosted a show that caught more than a thousand fugitives, and helped pass federal legislation. Through it all, he'd been carrying the weight of an unsolved case that no amount of public success could make right. And although the authorities had named Adam Skiller, there were still a lot of questions hanging over the case. The Associated Press examined the documents released with the announcement and found nothing that pointed directly to Tool. Journalists who'd covered the case for decades challenged the decision, and they said the confessions were unreliable, the physical evidence was gone, and no one had ever been formally charged.

But John Walsh chose to accept it. After 27 years, he was ready to let it go. The investigation never delivered true justice for Adam. But what John Walsh built in his son's name has no parallel in American criminal justice. Before Adam Walsh disappeared, there was no national database for missing children. No hotline, no Amber Alert, no code Adam, no America's. most wanted. A missing child was a local problem, handled by a local police department with no federal coordination and no public infrastructure. Today, NECMEC has helped recover more than 426,000

missing children. The 1-800-the-Lost hotline has taken more than 5 million calls. In 1998, Nickmec created the cyber tip line. Congress designated it as the official reporting mechanism for suspected online child exploitation. It's processed hundreds of millions of reports. Amber alerts operate in all 50 states and have helped bring home more than 1,300 children. The recovery rate for missing children

has gone from 62% in 1990 to more than 90% today. Think about what that means in practice. In 1981, a detective in Georgia had no way of knowing that a child had been reported missing in Florida. Today, that information is in a national database that any law enforcement officer in the country can access in seconds. The system John Walsh built also reaches backward in time. Nick Mac developed age progression technology that updates a massive. missing child's photograph to show what they might look like years or even decades later.

According to NIC, hundreds of children have been found because someone recognized a face from an age-progressed image. In 2025, a woman named Andrea Reyes was identified in Puebla, Mexico, 25 years after she'd been abducted from New Haven, Connecticut at just 23 months old. Nick Mech had produced and distributed age progression posters of Andrea for years. Her stepmother thanked the center at the press conference. And from the beginning, John Walsh made sure America's Most Wanted was a tool for finding missing children, not just catching fugitives.

The show regularly featured missing children's cases alongside its criminal. criminal profiles. In 2003, AMW broadcast the photograph of a man named Brian David Mitchell, who was wanted in connection with the kidnapping of 14-year-old Elizabeth Smart from her Salt Lake City bedroom nine months earlier. Bystanders in suburban Utah recognized Mitchell from the broadcast and called 911. Elizabeth was found alive, still in Mitchell's custody. It was one of the most traumatic rescues in the show's history, and it happened because a viewer saw a face on television and picked up the phone. Over the course of its run, America's Most Wanted led to the capture of more than 1,200 fugitives, including 17 from the FBI's 10 Most Wanted list. When Fox briefly

canceled the show in 1996. The response was overwhelming. Two hundred thousand viewers wrote letters, 55 members of Congress called, and the network brought it back in less than two months. The show ran for another 15 years until 2011. A decade later in 2021, the show returned to Fox with John and his son Callahan as co-hosts. John Walsh is 80 years old. He's been at the this for more than four decades, and he is still going. Every episode in this series followed the same pattern. A crime exposed a failure. The failure cost someone their life, and the people who lost the most refused to let it happen again. Ernesto Miranda was a violent man who confessed to a crime he had committed, but he confessed without knowing he had the right not to.

The Supreme Court's ruling gave every American the right to remain silent and the right to an attorney. The murders of the Osage people prove that when local law enforcement was part of the problem, there was nobody to turn to. The investigation that followed helped build the FBI into a national agency. A seven-year-old girl who was taken from a Montana campsite led two agents at Quantico to build the science of criminal. profiling from scratch. And a six-year-old boy who vanished from a Sears in Hollywood, Florida, gave this country the system it uses to search for every missing child. None of it was inevitable. None of it was easy. All of it was built by people who refused to accept the status quo.

Thanks so much for listening. I'm Carter Roy and this is Murder. True Crime Stories. That wraps up our four-part series, The Crimes That Built America. Thank you for joining us for all four episodes, and you'll still get all our normal episodes every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. Murder True Crime Stories is a Crimehouse original powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crimehouse, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media at Crimehouse on TikTok and Instagram. Don't forget to rate. and follow Murder True Crime Stories wherever you get your podcasts.

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Plus.com or if you listen on Apple Podcasts, tap, try free at the top of the Murder True Crime Stories page. Murder True Crime Stories is hosted by me, Carter Roy, and is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the Murder True Crime Stories team, Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benadon, Natalie Pritzofsky, Lori Marinelli, Alyssa Fox, Cassidy Dillon, and Russell Nash. Thank you for listening.