Murder: True Crime Stories - UNSOLVED: Joan Risch 1

Episode Date: March 3, 2026

Joan Risch seemed to embody suburban perfection. A devoted mother of two building a quiet life in Massachusetts in the early 1960s. In Part 1, Murder: True Crime Stories traces Joan’s journey from her childhood and adoption to her marriage and move to the small town of Lincoln. As neighbors describe her as intelligent and reserved, subtle details emerge in the days leading up to October 1961. When Joan vanishes from her kitchen, leaving behind bloodstains and two young children alone in the house, the community is left stunned. This episode sets the stage for one of New England’s most haunting and puzzling disappearances. If you’re new here, don’t forget to follow Murder True Crime Stories to never miss a case! For Ad-free listening and early access to episodes, subscribe to Crime House+ on Apple Podcasts. Murder True Crime Stories is a Crime House Original Podcast, powered by PAVE Studios 🎧 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 Social Instagram: @Crimehouse TikTok: @Crimehouse Facebook: @crimehousestudios YouTube: @crimehousestudios To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hey, it's Carter. If you're enjoying murder, true crime stories, there's a new crime house show for you to check out. It's called The Final Hours hosted by Sarah Turney and Courtney Nicole. Sarah is an advocate for missing and murdered victims whose own sister disappeared in 2001. And Courtney is a true crime storyteller who has seen firsthand how crime can change a family forever. Together, they bring lived experience to every case, examining the moment. moments just before a person disappears, the routines, the timelines, the small details that often get overlooked, because every disappearance has a moment where everything still feels normal until it doesn't. Listen to and follow the final hours on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon music, or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes drop every Monday. This is Crime House.

We think we know the people in our lives, but even those closest to us have private worlds that we never fully see, thoughts they keep to themselves, doubts they don't voice, hopes and dreams they don't share. That was certainly the case for Joan Rish. From the outside, looking in, it seemed like Joan had everything. Family, friends, financial stability. But one day in the fall of 1961, the Un-Sixieuxington, the Un-Whorred. unthinkable happened. And Jones' loved ones questioned everything they thought they knew. Suddenly they were picking through the past, trying to understand what happened.

Friends replayed conversations, neighbors revisited ordinary moments. Joan's husband wondered what he'd missed. Detectives were left searching for clues in what Joan had said, and in everything she hadn't. because once she was gone, the question wasn't just where Joan was, but whether anyone had ever really known her. 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 crime house 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. Thank you for being part of the crime house community. Please rate, review, and follow the show. And for early, add free access to every episode, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. This is the first of two episodes on the disappearance of 31-year-old Joan Rish. In October 1961, she vanished from her home in the Boston suburbs, seemingly without a trace. Today, I'll tell you how Joan overcame

childhood trauma, started working in the New York publishing scene, and ended up as a housewife in a town surrounded by strangers. She seemed happy there, but after she went missing, people questioned how she really felt. Next time, I'll dig into the investigation that followed and the theories that surfaced. I'll explore what may have happened to Joan, the many questions that remain, and why the truth has proven so difficult to pin down. All that more coming up. Once the world learned about Joan Rish, every detail of her life would be pulled apart and dissected. and yet very little is known about her childhood. We do know her story began in Brooklyn, New York.

She was born there on May 12, 1930, as Joan barred to parents, Harold, and Josephine. They were comfortably upper-middle class and had been married for six years when Joan arrived. Joan was their first and only child, and by all account she was a pretty quiet kid. She was thoughtful and studious, always with her nose in a book. She preferred to sit on the sidelines and watch the action unfold rather than be the center of attention. Still, she had a happy childhood for the first eight years, at least. But at some point, her family moved to Chicago because of her dad's job. The move wasn't permanent, though.

When Harold's company went belly up, the family returned to the east coast, settling in Mountain Lakes, New Jersey. It was a quiet suburban town with a commuter rail line that made New York City easily accessible. That was helpful for the bards who often traveled to Brooklyn to visit relatives. That was the case in February 1939, when 8-year-old Joan went into the city for a long weekend to visit her grandmother. This time, her parents stayed behind in New Jersey. Joan had no way of knowing that it would be the last time she ever saw them. At some point that weekend, tragedy struck in Mountain Lakes.

Around 1 a.m., a fire broke out in the Bard's apartment. Strong winds whipped through the area, feeding the flames and spreading them rapidly. The fire moved faster than anyone could react. By the time, Harold and Joseph, Feene realized what was happening, they were trapped. The blaze cut off their escape routes, filling the apartment with thick smoke and unbearable heat. A local man named Jim McFarland was returning home late that night when he noticed the fire. He immediately ran to alert the neighborhood, pounding on doors and shouting for help. He tried to enter the apartment itself,

desperate to reach the couple inside. but the smoke was too suffocating and the heat too intense. He couldn't get through. At that point, all he could do was ring the fire alarm. Firefighters arrived quickly and worked to bring the blaze under control, but the fire burned until nearly four in the morning before they could fully extinguish it. By then it was too late.

Harold and Josephine had suffocated from the smoke before the flames even reached them. In the immediate aftermath, there was some suspicions about how the fire started. There were even whispers about arson, but ultimately the fire chief concluded it had been an accident. The Bard's deaths were an unfortunate tragedy. For Joan, the loss was devastating. She was only eight years old, staying with her grandmother in Brooklyn,

when she learned that both of her parents had died in a single night. In an instant, her entire world flipped on its access. The life she knew was gone. Forever. Joan was sent to live with her aunt and uncle, Alice, and Frank Natris, in New Rochelle, New York. Not long after, they formally adopted her. Joan's last name changed from Bard to Natris, marking a clean break from the life she'd had been. before. Alice and Frank already had three sons, all younger than Joan, so she became the oldest in the

household. Six years later, Alice would have another daughter. From the outside, it seemed like Joan had a strong support system to help her through this awful time, but it wasn't that simple. Years later, Joan would reveal that she was sexually abused by her uncle Frank during her adolescence. She never provided specific details, and Frank denied the allegations outright, but within the family opinions were divided. Some relatives believe Joan, they described Frank as controlling and domineering, a man who needed absolute authority. Others dismissed the claims, saying Joan was misremembering or exaggerating. What's clear is that Joan carried this experience with her for the rest of her life.

And yet, despite all the trauma of her childhood, Joan seemed remarkably well adjusted. She might have kept to herself, but she read constantly and excelled in school. In 1948, after finishing high school, she earned a scholarship to Wilson College, a small women's liberal art school in Pennsylvania. She chose to study English. Joan had always had a deep love for literature, and the subject suited her perfectly. For her, reading wasn't just an interest, it was an escape from her life.

Joan thrived in college. Her days were filled with classes, long hours in the library, and shifts working as a waitress to earn extra money. She formed close friendships, ones that would last well beyond graduation. She also ran for student government and was elected vice president. She wrote poetry that was published in the student literary review, and maybe most important of all, she became the assistant literary editor of her class yearbook. It was the first step toward finding her passion for publishing. In 1952, 22-year-old Joan graduated with honors and started pursuing her dreams. Almost immediately, she landed a job in New York City as a secretary at the publishing company,

Harcourt Brayson World. Joan proved herself capable and reliable, steadily working her way into a secretarial management position. By her early 20s, Joan's life seemed settled. She had survived profound loss and found her footing. She had a career, independence, and a clear sense of who she was and what she wanted. Things were going according to plan. And then Joan Metagai. In the fall of 1953, 23-year-old Joan Rish went to a Harvard football game with her friend Anne Ellsworth. Anne was dating a law student there and invited Joan along. was supposed to be a casual day out, a chance to get away from New York for a bit, maybe meet a few people, but Anne also had something else in mind. She wanted to set Joan up on a blind date.

Anne's boyfriend knew someone who might be a good match for Joan, 24-year-old Martin Rish, a student at Harvard Business School. The four of them met up and went to the game together. Before they even found their seats, Joan was already smitten. Soon after meeting Martin, Joan wrote her aunt a letter saying she wanted to go back to Harvard and see him again. She said she'd met the man she wanted to marry. Luckily, the feeling was mutual. Just a few weeks later, Martin asked her to visit him at school. This second trip sealed the deal. Afterwards, neither them wanted to see anyone else. They were focused. on each other and making their new relationship work.

But that didn't mean things were easy. Martin still had to finish school in Boston and Joan was working full-time in New York. For nearly two years, they did long distance. When Joan had a free weekend, she went back to Harvard, and if Martin was able to get away from his studies, he came to the city to see Joan. They wrote each other letters in between, keeping the spark alive. Sometimes Martin would surprise Joan at her office, showing up at the end of the day to take her to dinner.

They spent long evenings talking about politics and religion. Other nights they sat together quietly, reading side by side in comfortable silence. They truly seemed like a perfect match. Joan was thoughtful and reserved, while Martin was ambitious and steady. Together, they just made sense. Their friends and family couldn't have been more supportive, and they couldn't wait to see what the couple did next. In 1955, 25-year-old Martin graduated from Harvard and accepted a position as a sales executive in New York. Meanwhile, 25-year-old Joan continued to climb the corporate ladder at Harcourt Brayson World.

She'd proven herself over the last few years, and her boss spoke very highly of her. He said Joan was industrious and very bright, and that she had a knack for managing people. Now that she and Martin were living in the same city and their careers were on the right track, they decided it was time to take the next step. At the end of 1955, they found an apartment in Brooklyn Heights and signed a lease. A few weeks later, the day after Christmas, the couple got married on Long Island. In January of 1956, they moved into their new apartment and settled into married life. By then, Martin had taken a new sales job at another New York company,

and Joan's career was moving forward to. Later that summer, her boss left Harcourt for a different publishing company called Thomas Y. Crowell Company. He asked Joan to come with him, and she accepted a role as the editorial assistant to the director of the college book division. Joan was exactly where she wanted to be, working in publishing, surrounded by books, well-respected, and only gaining more responsibility. But less than a year later, everything changed. In 1957, 27-year-old Joan gave birth to a daughter named Lillian. After her arrival, Joan decided to leave her job, and become a stay-at-home mom. Joan was thrilled to have a child, but it was also a major shift.

Suddenly she was changing diapers instead of making book deals, and it wasn't the only big change she experienced that year. Around the same time, Joan and Martin decided to move out of the city. They settled in Ridgefield, Connecticut, where they'd have more space for their growing family. Martin's commute to work was manageable, less than an hour each way, and it just felt like being in Ridgefield was the logical next step, especially because a year later in 1959, they welcomed their second child, a son named David. It seemed like Joan was adapting well to motherhood. She was attentive, organized, and deeply involved in her children's lives, all while keeping up her own hobbies and interests. She still read constantly, mostly a mix of romantic early English history and mystery novels,

and even did some writing herself. She also liked going to museums when she could and developed an interest in bird watching. Most of the people who knew her thought Joan had fully embraced her role as a homemaker. She made friends with neighbors. She was warm, thoughtful, and well-liked. but some of her older friends were skeptical. They had a feeling that Joan missed her career more than she let on and thought she might have been restless or even possibly resentful that she'd given it up. Joan herself seemed to think the situation didn't have to be permanent.

She talked about returning to work someday once her children were older. Maybe she would become an English teacher, sharing her love of reading with the next generation. But for now, she was focused on raising Lillian and David. Then, just as she was starting to feel settled, Martin got a promotion. With that came a transfer to the Massachusetts office, 50 miles outside of Boston. Joan had only just begun to feel anchored in Connecticut. it. Now she was being asked to leave a place she loved and a network of friends and family

she relied on. In April 1961, Joan and Martin packed up their lives and moved to Lincoln, Massachusetts, an affluent suburb of Boston. They found a two-story home on Old Bedford Road, a narrow winding street that branched off from a nearby two-lane highway. They bought the house for $27,500 and the equivalent of just under $300,000 today. It was a really nice home, perfect for a young family. Joan Martin began the slow process of settling in. They unpacked boxes, learned the rhythms of the new place, and introduced themselves to some of their neighbors. William and Barbara Barker lived across the street and also had young children. Three kids under the age of of six. Almost immediately, Lillian formed a bond with the Barker's son, Douglas, who was also

four years old. The two became fast friends, playing together in backyards and living rooms. As a result, the families were friendly. Joan and Barbara started helping each other out with the kids, watching them while the other ran errands or took some much needed alone time. But they weren't close, per se. But luckily, Joan did have someone who had someone who, she felt she could truly confide in. One of Joan's old college friends, Sabra Morton, had also recently moved to the Boston area and the two reconnected. The reunion was a comfort Joan hadn't realized she needed.

Although their lives had changed a lot since college, they still had plenty in common. Both Sabra and Joan were now married with kids. Their conversations range from pregnancy and parenting. to books, religion, and their shared love of birdwatching. For Joan, Sabra was a godsend. Joan was friendly and kind, but she wasn't someone who made new friends easily. She was still that introverted girl inside, cautious and reserved. People loved her once they got to know her, but she didn't open up quickly.

With Sabra, that wasn't an issue. Joan told Sabra about the things that were bothering her. She struggled with sleep. She worried constantly about whether she was doing enough as a mother. She held herself to incredibly high standards and felt anxious when she fell short. None of this was necessarily alarming. It sounded like the concerns of a young woman navigating motherhood in a new place. By the fall of 1961, Joan had been living in Lincoln for just over six months.

She was still adjusting and learning the ins and outs of the town, still trying to balance who she had been with who she was becoming. And then, one ordinary October morning, everything changed. Suddenly, Joan's own life became a mystery that, rivaled the ones she read in her books. Hey, it's Carter. If you are enjoying murder, true crime stories, there's a new crime house show for you to check out.

It's called The Final Hours, and it's hosted by Sarah Turney and Courtney Nicole. Sarah is an advocate for missing and murdered victims whose sister disappeared in 2001, and Courtney is a true crime storyteller and investigator who witnessed firsthand how crime can change a fan family forever. Together, they bring lived experience to every case looking not only at what happened, but what led up to it. Each episode examines the moments just before a person disappears,

the routines, the timelines, and the small details that often get overlooked, because every disappearance has a moment where everything still feels normal. A text that doesn't raise concern, a routine that goes unchanged, a door that closes just like it always has, until it doesn't. The final hours puts those moments under a microscope, because when it comes to justice, there's no such thing as over-analysis. Listen to and follow the final hours on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen. New episodes every Monday. by October 1961.

31-year-old Joan Rish and her husband, 32-year-old Martin, had been living in Lincoln, Massachusetts for about seven months. Joan had her hands full with her two kids, four-year-old Lillian and two-year-old David, and Martin was busy with work. On the morning of October 24th, he woke up before dawn, he moved quietly through the dark, careful not to wake the rest of the house. He had an early flight to catch, an 8 a.m. departure for a one-night business trip in New York City. Beside him, Joan stirred. She was used to these early mornings.

Martin traveled for work often enough that the routine was familiar. Joan didn't mind staying behind with the kids, although secretly she long for the days when she was the one working in New York. But Joan didn't complain. And there's nothing in the record to suggest that her goodbye with her husband was unusual that morning. Martin dressed, gathered his things, and left the house while it was still quiet. Then Joan got up and started her day. She woke Lillian first, then went to David's room to get him from his crib.

The house came alive in the slow, ordinary way it always did. Joan prepared breakfast for the children before getting them dressed. That day, Joan and Lillian were both seeing the dentist, so Joan had asked her neighbor, Barbara Barker, to watch David until they got back. Joan brought him across the street to the Barkers. Then she and Lillian got into Jones Blue 1951 Chevy and drove into town. The appointment went smoothly. There were no delays or complications. Afterward, Joan even had time to briefly stop at a department store with Lillian.

they returned home to Old Bedford Road at around 11 a.m. or so. While they were gone, the milk delivery had arrived, so at the mail, and soon after they got back, the local dry cleaners stopped by to pick up Martin's suits. Joan welcomed him inside and went upstairs to grab the clothes. With the errands out of the way, Joan went back across the street to collect David from the Barkers. She brought him home, and once the children were all settled again, she kicked off her heels and put on some sneakers and lounge wear. Around 1 p.m. Barbara brought her son, Douglas, over to the Rishes, to play with Lillian. At some point, Joan made all three kids lunch. Then she put David down for his nap upstairs.

Once he was asleep at 1.55 p.m., she walked Lilian and Douglas across the street back to the barkers. She left them on the swing set in the yard and said she would be back soon. Joan didn't see or speak to Barbara, but it seemed like she was home. Sometime around 2.15 or 2.30 that afternoon. Barbara happened to glance out her window toward the Rish's house across the street. She saw Joan in the driveway wearing a trench coat. Her arms were extended outward as if she were reaching for something. Barbara noticed something red near her. She thought maybe Joan was carrying something from the car to the garage.

Barbara thought it was kind of strange, but not alarming. She figured she'd just ask about it when Joan came to pick Lillian up. About an hour and a half later, Barbara brought Lillian back home. She needed to run to town for a few errands herself. She saw Joan's car in the driveway and assumed she just lost track of time. So Barbara sent Lillian inside without stopping to talk to Joan. She needed to get going. She hurried back across the street, packed up her own kids in her car, and left for town.

Inside the Rish home. Lillian called out for her mom. There was no answer. Lillian wandered into the kitchen, then stopped. What she saw didn't make any sense. The room was a mess. The kitchen table had been overturned. The telephone had been ripped from the wall and red liquid was splattered everywhere on the floor and the walls. Lillian didn't know any better. She thought it was paint. She called. out for her mom again. Instead of her reply, all she heard was her little brother starting to cry. His nap had ended, but no one had come to get him. Lillian didn't know what to do. She was four

years old, alone in the house, surrounded by something she couldn't understand. She ran back to the front door to get help from the barkers, but their driveway was empty. Barbara and the kids were already gone. So, Lillian waited. She stood at the front window watching people pass by. It was another half an hour or so until she finally saw the Barker's car return around 4.15 p.m. She raced out the door and crossed the street all on her own, even though she wasn't supposed to. Barbara saw her running and immediately knew something was wrong. When Lillian reached her, she said her mom was missing and that the kitchen was covered in red paint. When Barbara heard that her heart dropped, she told Lillian to go inside and hang out with David while she went over to the Rish's.

The moment Barbara stepped into the Rish home, she understood what Lillian couldn't. It wasn't paint all over the kitchen. It was blood. The scene looked chaotic. and violent. Barbara's stomach sank. Whatever had happened here, it wasn't good. She was ripped from the moment by the sound of David's cries upstairs. She followed the trail of blood all the way up to David's crib, where the two-year-old was still wailing, his diaper soiled. He'd been left all alone for who knew how along. Barbara picked him up and tried to comfort him. She called out for Joan as she moved through the house, hoping her friend might answer. But she didn't. Joan was nowhere to be found. Barbara had no idea what had happened since she'd last seen Joan a few hours ago, but she knew she needed help.

At 4.33 p.m., she called the Lincoln police and reported Joan missing. She was sure they'd find her in no time. But the mystery of Joan Rish's disappearance had only just begun. And the questions that emerged that afternoon would remain unanswered for decades. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Carter Roy, and this is murder. True Crime Stories. Come back next time for part two on the murder of Joan Rish and all the people it affected.

Murder, True Crime Stories is a Crime House 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 Crime House on TikTok and Instagram. Don't forget to rate, review, and follow. Murder, true crime stories, wherever you get your podcast. Your feedback truly makes a difference. And to enhance your Murder True Crime Stories listening experience, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts.

You'll get every episode early and ad-free. We'll be back on Thursday. 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 Protovsky, Sarah Camp, Alex Burns, Sheila Patterson, and Russell Nash. Thank you for listening.

Hi, it's Carter. If you love murder, true crime stories, check out the new Crime House original about disappearances. The Final Hours, hosted by Sarah Turney and Courtney Nicole. Listen and follow The Final Hours on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes drop every Monday.