True Crime Campfire - Crash: The Murder of Brittney Brashers

Episode Date: November 4, 2022

Y’know, between Hollywood, books and TV, humans have got some pretty weird ideas about romantic love. If she turns you down, keep at her—make a grand romantic gesture to let her know you’re not goin’ away! If he’s jealous, it just means he really loves you. If he doesn’t want you dressing sexy, it’s just because he’s protective. Okay, we might fight all the time, but that’s just because we’re passionate. REAL love is like that, you know. Sure it's a little suffocating sometimes when she wants me to spend every spare minute with her—sure I’m losing touch with some of my friends, but I mean…I’m the only good thing in her life! I can’t leave her like everybody else in her life always has. Any of this sound familiar? Yeah, I figured. This stuff can play out in a lot of different ways, of course. Not every story like this is gonna end in murder. But this one does. Join us for the story of Brittney Brashers, a beautiful young Iraq War veteran and athlete who had her whole life ahead of her--until she met Robbie Walters, whose charming and funny exterior hid a heart full of poison. Sources:CBS "48 Hours," Episode "Collision Course" https://www.westword.com/news/a-veteran-charged-with-killing-his-girlfriend-robert-walters-also-put-a-hit-on-his-wife-say-police-5113439?showFullText=truehttps://www.cbsnews.com/pictures/investigating-the-death-of-brittney-brashers/17/https://www.cbsnews.com/news/was-young-airmans-death-a-tragic-accident-or-murder/Follow us, campers!Patreon (join to get all episodes ad-free, at least a day early, an extra episode a month, and a free sticker!): https://patreon.com/TrueCrimeCampfireFacebook: True Crime CampfireInstagram: https://gramha.net/profile/truecrimecampfire/19093397079Twitter: @TCCampfire https://twitter.com/TCCampfireEmail: [e-mail]! https://true-crime-campfire.myspreadshop.com/Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-crime-campfire--4251960/support.

Hello, campers, grab your marshmallows and gather around the true crime campfire. We're your camp counselors. I'm Katie. And I'm Whitney. And we're here to tell you a true story that is way stranger than fiction. We're roasting murderers and marshmallows around the true crime campfire. You know, between Hollywood books and TV, humans, Women have got some pretty weird ideas about romantic love. If she turns you down, keep at her. Make a grand romantic gesture to let her know you're not going away.

If he's jealous, it just means he really loves you. If he doesn't want you dressing sexy, it's just because he's protective. Okay, we might fight all the time, but that's just because we're passionate. Real love is like that, you know? Sure, it's a little suffocating sometimes when she wants me to spend every spare minute with her. Sure, I'm losing touch with some of my friends, but I mean, I'm the only good thing in her life. if I can't leave her like everybody else in her life always has. Any of this sound familiar?

Yeah, I figured. This stuff can play out in a lot of different ways, of course. Not every story like this is going to end in murder. But this one does. This is Crash, the murder of Brittany Breshears. So, campers, for this one, we're in Denver, Colorado, November 17th, 2009, around midnight or 1 a.m. A guy named Steve Sanchez was getting ready for bed when he heard a huge bang from outside. He ran out to see what was going on and immediately saw what had caused the sound.

A car had slammed headfirst into a parked vehicle. Steve ran over to see if he could help and found two people in the wrecked car. in the passenger seat a young man and in the driver's seat a woman. The man was shaking the woman, almost desperately, trying to get her to wake up and talk to him. But to Steve, it seemed clear, the poor girl was already dead. Which is what he told the 911 dispatcher a moment later as he called for help. It was a strange place for this young couple to be, Steve thought. His street was a dead end, and he didn't think he recognized either of these people or their car.

What were they even doing down here? As first responders arrived, Steve waved them over to the scene, glancing over at the couple in the car. The man was still shaking the woman. Steve heard him say, Brittany, Brittany! As investigators would soon discover, her name was Brittany Bershears, and she was just 22 years old. Not long after the first responders pulled up on her car that night, thousands of miles away in Illinois, Brittany's dad Barry startled awake at the sound of the phone. You hardly ever get a good phone call at 2 o'clock in the morning. and as groggy as he was, Barry immediately felt dread creeping in as he picked up his phone.

It was an investigator from the Denver PD, and he told Barry he needed to get to the hospital as quick as he could. His daughter, Brittany, had been in a bad car crash. I can't get there for a while, Barry said. I'm in Illinois. The idea of getting on a plane without knowing anything about Britney's condition was totally unthinkable. So the Denver cop put him in touch with a doctor at the hospital, where Brittany had been taken, and the doctor didn't mince words. There's no good way to tell a father that his daughter was dead on arrival. It was a long, surreal night for Brittany's dad and siblings after that. Her younger brother John later told 48 hours, I couldn't even cry that first night. It just

didn't even seem real. He'd looked up to Brittany his whole life. She was his best friend. It was impossible to believe she was gone, just like that. Brittany had always been so vibrantly a She went at life hard, with big joy and no visible fear. She was an Iraq war vet in the Air Force. She played full-on tackle football in an all-women's league. She loved competition, never met a sport she couldn't kick ass at. As Brittany's family and friends got together to try and help each other process this unbelievable loss, details started to trickle in about the crash.

And there were a couple that immediately gave him a sinking feeling. For one thing, Brittany's blood alcohol was slightly over the legal limit, and she hadn't been wearing her seat belt, totally, bizarrely out of character for her. The passenger had been wearing his seatbelt, though, and when Brittany's best friend Tiffany asked who the passenger was, the answer froze her blood. It was Robert Walters, Brittany's on-again, off-again boyfriend. I knew something wasn't right, she later told 48 hours. And over at the medical examiner's office, as he carefully went through the steps of Britney's autopsy,

the ME was slowly coming to the same conclusion. But let's put a pin in that for a minute and talk about how we got here. Brittany and her siblings grew up in a tight, happy family. It was a normal childhood until their mom died of cancer. Brittany was 17, and she took it hard. Her mom was her best friend, the one she could talk to about anything. And like a lot of people do when they're grieving, especially with their teenagers and haven't developed any adult coping strategies yet,

Brittany started acting out. She started hanging out with the hard partying craft. drinking a lot to self-medicate against the pain. According to Dad Barry, she partied way too much. But a few years later, at 20, Brittany started to turn it around. Barry could see her getting her feet under her again, getting interested in life. And one afternoon, she came home and told him, Hey, Dad, I just signed up for the Air Force.

It was just what she needed, the discipline, the routine, and as she did with everything she tried, Brittany crushed it. She started working at the dental lab of the air base as a technician, and she endeared herself to everybody. Master Sergeant Art Figueroa considered her one of his all-time best airmen, which is what all Air Force folks are called regardless of gender. In February of 2009, Brittany was deployed to Iraq as part of a non-combat security force. For her, it was an adventure, her first big deployment. She threw herself into it, and it was there, halfway around the world, that she met, Ron. Robbie Walters.

Robbie was an airman, too, from California, and when he met Brittany, it was instant chemistry. She was all smiles when she saw me, he said later. There are some cute pictures of them from their time together in Iraq, both in their fatigues, playing around with ice cream spoons. But the problem with the chemistry Brittany felt for Robbie was that somebody else had gotten to the lab ahead of her. Robbie was already married to a woman named Elena, who he'd known almost his whole life. But he swore up and down that Brittany needn't worry about any of that. It wasn't a real marriage, he told her. It was just a sham to get his hands on some of that sweet, sweet separation pay.

Elena, interestingly enough, didn't quite see it that way. She loved Robbie desperately. When he brought up the idea of marriage, she was thrilled until he told her why he wanted to do it. She got upset, told him she wanted to marry him for love, not to put one over on a Uncle Sam, for God's sake. Oh, yeah. But Robbie's sweet talk to her. Of course, I love you, babe.

The money's just a bonus. Now, come on. Let's do this thing before I go to Iraq. Oh, God. So Elena married him in the super romantic locale of a parking garage in January 2009. Oh, my God. Little did she know how much she'd come to regret it. In no time at all, Scuzbag was in Iraq.

cheating on her with Brittany, who believed the marriage was on paper only and had no idea that Elena would be hurt by it. So he was playing both of them. What a shit basket. Yeah. Now, as I'm sure some of you all already know, adultery is actually illegal in the military. It's like a big deal. You can get dishonorably discharged and everything. You can even go to jail for up to a year. They do not take it lightly when they found out a troop is cheating on their spouse. Brittany and Robbie both knew this, obviously, but it didn't stop them, and they weren't nearly as discreet as they should have been. Brittany's Air Force friends were worried about her. They all liked her a lot, and they didn't want to see her military career derailed by an affair

with some dude, especially a dude like Robbie. Unlike Brittany, Robbie didn't have the best reputation as an airman. He had a history of insubordination and disciplinary issues, and we don't know for sure if his relationship with Brittany factored into this, but in July of 2009, our boy got discharged from the Air Force, quote, less than honorably. Now, there are some exceptions, but this generally means you

can't get VA benefits, and I can't imagine it does your rep any favors either. I think most people would be pretty embarrassed. Yeah, I think that's just the military's way of saying, like, yo, this dude has a terrible vibe, but he's not like evil, we guess.

Yeah. Now, a few Two months after that, Brittany's unit got sent back to the States to Colorado Springs, and Robbie, fresh out of the Air Force and still very much married to Elena, followed. And before long, Brittany, who had always been an exemplary employee, started acting up. Showing up late to work or not showing up at all, and just generally coping an attitude. And if anybody tried to reach out and figure out what was up, she pushed them away. Best friend Tiffany thought she knew exactly what was going on. Robbie was going on.

Tiffany had been kind of wary of Robbie pretty much from day one. She told 48 hours, my impression of him was, you know, he's a funny guy, he always has to be, you know, the clown. But he was also a bad boy, and that spelled trouble to Tiffany. I'm guessing she didn't like the idea of Brittany hooking up with a married man, for one thing, whether the marriage was real or not. But also, as Britney's bestie, she had a front row seat for all the dysfunctional shit that soon started going down in this toxic waist dump of a relationship.

and soon Tiffany came to realize that this dude was bad news bears. Robbie was possessive and his moods went up and down like a hyperactive kid on a pogo stick. He'd do stuff like stop Britney's car in the middle of a four-lane highway, like in traffic, take the keys and run off, leaving Britney sitting in a stopped car with other cars zooming all around her, laying on their horns, screaming at her. Robbie denies doing that, by the way, but you know, screw him. I'm going to go ahead and take Tiffany's word on that.

Another time, they were arguing in the car and he threatened to grab the steering wheel and veer them into oncoming traffic, freaking lunatic. Yeah, something I've noticed is that abusers really love fucking around with cars and in cars. Like, I think it's an intersection of power and control. You're controlling a giant machine and your passenger is powerless to stop you without putting themselves and you in danger. Like, it's like catnip to these fucking losers. Yeah, actually, my ex used to drive terrifyingly fast because he knew it really. scared me, like if we were arguing. So yeah, you're right about that. Absolutely. And according

to more than one of Brittany's friends, Robbie could get violent when he was drunk, and he was drunk a lot. The relationship was on again, off again for a while. At one point, Brittany's boss found out Robbie was married and gave her a direct order to stay away from him. You can pursue a relationship if and when Robbie gets a divorce, he said, but until then, this is illegal. You got to stop. This apparently scared Brittany enough to break things off with Robbie for a while. But as so many people in abusive, toxic relationships do, she kept finding herself getting drawn back in. One day, she'd tell Tiffany, I know I have to get away from him. I know this isn't good for me. But a few days later, she'd be back in his arms. Sometimes Tiffany would get exasperated, and I get that because it is hard

to watch somebody you love be treated like shit. And she'd ask Brittany why she kept doing this, going back to this chode again and again, and Brittany would just say, I love him. Oh, girl, listen, I've been there. I hate it. And then on October 24th, 2009, things got real, real ugly. Brittany and Robbie had been to a bar, and somehow they started arguing about whether Britney was too good for him. Yes, yes you are, a thousand times over. Yep. Anyway, so they left the bar, much of the relief of the people around them, I'm sure, and as Robbie was driving them back to her place, Brittany called one of her friends, and as they were talking, the friend heard Robbie in the background say,

I'm going to fucking wreck this car. Yikes. It got worse once they got back to Brittany's place. Before they even got inside, Robbie grabbed Brittany by the arms and threw her against the car. So hard it broke the side view mirror. When Brittany tried to call 911, Robbie grabbed her phone and shattered it on the street.

So she had to go to a neighbor's house to call. Robbie was arrested, charged with misdemeanor assault, and tossed in jail for two days. In the meantime, a judge issued Brittany an order of protection. Robbie was to have zero contact with her. When he found out about all this, Brittany's CEO felt sick to his stomach, and he did what he could. He issued his own formal no-contact order, putting it in writing that if Britney saw Robbie Walters again, the Air Force could kick her out. This, for the moment anyway, was the kick in the pants she needed. She called Tiffany, I'm done with him, she said, for good this time.

Robbie was Gonzo. He was going to come get all his stuff from her apartment. He was going to move his dumb ass back to California, and that was going to be it. And it really did seem like it was for a while. A couple weeks later, Brittany signed up to play football in the Foxy League. She was making new friends there, having a blast. One of her teammates later said they were all blown away by this little powerhouse of a woman. She was teeny tiny.

She looked so dainty, her friend said. But she was an athlete and a half. She caught every pass they threw at her. And she wasn't scared of getting body slammed full force into the turf. I love this Foxy Football League, by the way. I just love it. They seem to be having so much fun. I mean, I would definitely break every bone in my body on day one.

wouldn't do it for a million dollars, but I'm just saying, you know, Godspeed, you badass queens. I am with you in spirit. Yeah, yeah. I love this quote from one of Brittany's teammates. She said, it was a sport that we didn't get paid to do it. We just did it because we loved it. It was something for us to do was women. We had helmets, mouthguards, shoulder pads, elbow pads, knee pads, cleats.

It was full on tackle. It was awesome. Hell yes. Mm-hmm. It seemed like Brittany was getting herself back on track. again, but toxic relationships are so insidious in a way you really can't understand if you've never lived through it. There's something almost addictive about them. And Robbie wasn't willing to let Britney go. A couple weeks into her time with Foxy Football, the team was scheduled to do a photo shoot

for a promo. The night before the shoot, Brittany got an overwrought sounding text from Robbie. Let me stay with you for one night. Just one night. And if anything goes wrong, I can just get a hotel. Where can I meet up with you? We have no way of knowing for sure, but I suspect Brittany was feeling pulled in two directions that night. On one hand, she'd been moving on, and the people who loved her were so happy to see her away from this guy. Yeah, I've been in this exact position. I think I know pretty much exactly how she was feeling. It's like you're at a crossroad.

One of the paths is leading to all this fun new stuff, new people and new possibilities, and most of you wants that so bad. then down that other path is the seductive, seductive feeling that maybe they've changed. You know, maybe things could be the way they were in the beginning again. Or even just guilt trip. Like, I can't abandon him. I mean, the only friend he's got. It's like you want to go down that bright, sunny path with all the good stuff in the distance,

but that little part of you that's still addicted to the poison is just a little bit stronger. It sucks. And I know some of y'all have been there and know exactly what I'm talking about. Maybe some of y'all are there right now. And if you are, my heart is with you. Seriously, I know how hard it is. I have a question. Yeah. In this analogy, is it, do you think, when you're thinking maybe he's changed or maybe they've changed,

do you see also a bright and sunny future where you can have your cake and eat it too almost? I guess so. Yeah. Yeah. It's just, you know, it's kind of pie in the sky, but you really want it to be true. Yeah, of course, of course, because you love the person. That's the insidious thing about abusive relationships. Yeah, yeah, absolutely. So the thing was, like all manipulators, Robbie knew just what to say to get Brittany to do what he wanted. She told him, okay, he could stay with her one night. I'm getting ready to head to Denver in a few, she texted him. I'll call you when we're done with the shoot.

This didn't suit Robbie. He didn't like the idea of Brittany at a sexy photo shoot, posing for some male photographer without him there to keep an eye on things. Take me with you, he texted back. It wasn't a question. The photo shoot was supposed to be a clothed set, no guests allowed. Brittany said, okay, you can't get into the shoot, though, you'll have to take my car and hang out till I'm done. Robbie, of course, agreed to this. He showed up drunk, and he and Brittany set off for the photo shoot.

But when they actually got there, Drunken Hines was not pleased at what he saw. The shoot was happening at a nightclub called the Palladium, which just happened to share an entrance with a strip club. Brittany called her best friend Tiffany not long after they pulled into the parking lot. Robbie's not supposed to come in, she told her, but he's so upset. I'm afraid he'll kill himself if I don't let him watch the shoot. Now, we've said it before, campers, and we will say it again. This is one of the standard moves out of an abuser's playbook. You try to set a boundary with them, they threaten to take their own lives. It's emotional blackmail. Plain and simple, and it can be incredibly evilly effective. Oh, absolutely. And I'll keep saying this as many times as I have to.

everyone is responsible for their own mental illnesses. Do not let somebody else make you accountable for their brain. Absolutely. So despite how embarrassing it must have been for her to do it, Brittany finally gave in and asked the photographer if it would be okay for her boyfriend to come in. Just imagine how much you would hate having to do that. You know, like your drunk, angry boyfriend standing there glowering and you have to go to this professional photographer, it just, ugh,

and that he would put her through that, ain't this guy. She's like, please, you know, he won't interfere. He'll just sit in the corner till we're done. And the photographer, who could probably smell the booze coming off him from all the way across the room, very reluctantly agreed. This story makes me equal parts sad and so pissed off I'd like to set him on fire, because according to one of Brittany's teammates, the shoot was a blast.

For everybody except Brittany, that is. As our teammates all had a great time, you know, getting hair and makeup, posing together. cracking each other up and enjoying just feeling like celebrities for a day, Brittany couldn't focus because Robbie was hunched over in his chair, his phone inches away from his face, sobbing and panting so hard that he was shaking all over. The girls were posing in sexy little crop tops that showed off their bellies

and there was a dude posing with them for some of the shots. There was nothing porny about it or anything. It was just sexy, you know? And the women were loving it. But apparently it was the end of the world for Robbie. And it got worse when they got to the last shot where the ladies all took their tops off and strategically covered each other's boobs

with like footballs and other props and stuff so it was sexy but like in a way where everything was kind of left to the imagination. I mean, BFD, right? It was a cute idea. But to Robbie Walters, it was emotional Armageddon. Oh, and by the way, guess what he was doing with his phone? Calling Britney's boss. Oh, boy.

Ratting her out for seeing him again, trying to get her kicked out of the flippin' air force. Ah, you gutless little tapeworm. And when he told 48 hours about it years later, you can tell he thinks it's funny. Like, he's proud of how clever he was trying to ruin her life. Revenge for her putting him in jail, as he put it. You put yourself in jail. You barely sentient pair of clown shoes.

By the way, our boy Robert did an interview with Susan Spencer right after his trial, and he's madly in love with the sound of his own voice. He's such a bad liar that it's kind of fascinating because you can, like, see that he's 100% confident that you're buying everything he's selling, despite how cartoonishly evil he is. Like, that's narcissism for you, Camper's. It's a beautiful demonstration. Yeah, and in that interview on 48 hours, you can tell Susan Spencer is, like, struggling with herself the whole time trying to figure out if she thinks he's funny or she wants to punch him in the throat. And just a little professional tip from TCC, Susan, you can absolutely do both.

Just do both. Yeah. And that is why we're not allowed to interview any of the dipshits we've cover on the show, Whitney. Yeah, we would just bully them. It wouldn't even be an interview. It would just be like us taking pot shots at them. Then probably they're trying to kill us or crying, one of the two. Both. It's both. Both. Yeah. So anyway, here are some of the So anyway, here are some of the charming texts, Robbie sent while Brittany was trying to have fun at her photo shoot. To Brittany, he texted,

Take me back to Colorado Springs, please. I'm not strong enough. Pity me. Oh, we pity you all right. Pathetic little man. A few minutes later, he called Sergeant Figueroa, Britney's boss, and left this message on his voicemail. Hey, Sarge, it's your best bud.

This is Robbie Walters. and Brittany has broken her no-contact order. I'm at a strip club in Denver right now with Brittany. Yes, Brittany is that stupid where she would come to a strip club with me. Come on, Sarge. Let's destroy her. She is fucked up again. This is the second, third, or fourth time she's fucked up. I'm at a strip club now, and she's flashing her naked body to anonymous strangers.

Yes, I'm a dick. I know you don't like me, but I don't care. But I've got the proof and you need to kick her out. Peace. Wow. And then, and then he called back again later and added this. She is the most evil woman I've ever known. That bitch needs to be kicked out.

Wow. Yeah, I'm really feeling the love. It's truly the perfect example of what kind of genius this guy thinks he is. Like, he's calling up Brits boss and tattling. Like, he thinks that would make him do anything but worry about her. Like, Sergeant Figueroa loved her. Like, in interviews, you can very clearly see that he had like some kind of paternal feeling toward her. For sure.

He thought she was the bee's knees. And so, like, this did not do what Robbie thought it would. He put that protection order in place to protect Brittany, not to, like, threaten her to kick her out, not truly. Right. Brittany's teammates were a little worried about her as they all got ready to leave the photo shoot. A few of them took her aside, like, Brit, is everything okay? What's your boyfriend so upset about? Brittany seemed embarrassed.

He's extremely jealous, she told them. He's obsessed because another guy saw me with my top off. Robert. Buddy, pal, my brother in Christ, you have an entire wife. I know. He's so married at this time. The hypocrisy just runs so deep. I know.

But she reassured her friends that she was okay to leave with him, and she did. It was the last time they ever saw. her alive. Robbie was still drunk off his ass and Brittany was a little bit tipsy herself. I'm not sure why. My guess is that they might have had some alcohol at the photo shoot. Maybe to loosen everybody up a little. Yeah, I did a photo shoot one time and they actually gave me champagne. So I think that's the thing. Robbie later told the police that as Brittany drove, he put his head down, just listening to music and zoning out. He wasn't paying attention to the drive at all for

about an hour. The next thing he knew, the car was slamming full force into a parked vehicle, and Brittany wouldn't wake up. Initially, Robbie's story made sense to the officers at the scene, but when they looked a little closer, the spidey senses started twitching. Something looked wrong. The car really hadn't hit the other car that hard, and Britney hadn't hit the windshield that hard either. These cops had seen plenty of fatal accidents, and this just didn't look like one. And when the medical examiner did the autopsy on Brittany's body, more alarm bells went off. First of all, her blood alcohol was just barely over the legal limit. It wasn't like she was falling down drunk, far from it. So why would she crash into a parked car? Plus, there were no

injuries to her internal organs and her bones were intact. Spinal cord and skull, totally fine. She did have some bruising on her temple and her cheek, though, and this was the kicker. Paticule hemorrhaging around her cheeks and eyes. Now, I know some of you all. already know what I'm going to say next. Patechial hemorrhages happen when the body's deprived of oxygen and little blood vessels and capillaries burst under the pressure. And they're a telltale sign of strangulation. Normally, an ME would confirm that by checking the bones and cartilage in the neck, but Brittany had a particular quirk that prevented that. She was missing the cartilage that most of us have in our throat, cartilage that's usually crushed during strangulation. So to the

medical examiner, it looked like Brittany had been strangled, but he couldn't prove it. So he didn't have a choice. He felt in his gut that this was a murder, but he classified the death as undetermined. Translation, no arrest. Not yet, at least. But Detective Troy Bisgard, the lead investigator on the scene that night, wasn't done with the case. He did some digging and found the report of the October domestic violence incident that it sent Robbie to jail. When he talked to Britney's best friend, Tiffany, he found out about Robbie's creepy threat to crash the car into oncoming traffic one time during an argument. That got his attention, for obvious reasons. This had happened just one month before Brittany's death. And then, on Brittany's phone, Bisgard found something that sent a chill down his

back. Saved under the name of a ringtone to conceal it from anyone who might go snooping was a voice message from Robbie, left not long after the violent incident in October. In a voice dripping with poison, he said, I hate your fucking guts. I'm tired of defending you. You fuck me over. I fucking hate you. I hope you fucking die. I fucking hate you. I hope you fucking die. Well, he'd gotten his wish now, hadn't he? For his part, by the way, Robbie seemed to think the voicemail was perfectly reasonable. He told Susan Spencer, that message was left after Brittany called the cops on me and I went to jail and I was angry. Again, just super casual. Like, who wouldn't leave an expletive-laden message to their ex who called the cops on us after we beat him up. I mean, come on, am I

wrong? If you can think of any other course of action to take in that situation, I'd love to hear it. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes an escalating pattern of domestic violence or restraining order and a baby in a baby carriage or something. Detective Bisgard also found it odd that Robbie's memory was real hazy about the entire night of the 17th except for one specific thing, the fact that Brittany took her top off during the photo shoot. That, he remembered with crystal clarity. Biscard's detective instincts were screaming at him to put the habeas grab us on this guy, but for the moment anyway, there was nothing he could do.

The Emmy's report still said undetermined, and he was going to need a lot more evidence than he had so far. Okay, so you might be wondering what Robbie's wife Elena had been up to all this time, while her hubs was neck deep in a toxic relationship with another woman. Well, she did know about the affair, but Robbie Sweet talked her into forgiving him, and after Brittany's death, he went back to her in California, and she was still clearly behind her man. Detective Bisgaard tried to get her to talk to him, but she made it clear she had nothing to say.

That all changed about four months later, though. Bisgard had been keeping his ear to the ground for any relevant gossip about Robbie and Elena, and he heard through the grapevine that they'd just had a big blowout fight. Thinking this might be his chance, he called Elena up. And holy shit was he glad. he did. Elena was ready to spill. Biscard said he didn't need to pry at all. Over the course of a two-hour phone call, Elena let her story tumble out. Robbie had confessed to killing Brittany, and in great

detail. They'd been on the highway, she said, the night after that photo shoot with Britney's football team, they were arguing. But Elena could do better than an explanation of what Robbie had said. she had actually managed to secretly record his confession on a cell phone hidden in her shoe. Damn, girl, that's some Nancy Drew shit right there. Good for her. Yeah. The recording is infuriating. Like, I cannot overstate the tone of his voice while he's telling the story. Homeboy is fully bragging. Oh, yeah.

He sounds proud of himself for killing a girl half his size. and forgive me for the following tone I'm imitating Robbie I'll also try not to puke on on Mike I look over and I just took a shot in the dark where her head would be

Robbie said boom I punched the girl with all my might she felt it she felt it like a fucking bomb dropped on her I'm surprised she didn't go unconscious right there

that one punch I hit her hard I couldn't stop and then she let out a small squeal like Robbie and then she goes like she's trying to scream. God, can you imagine how scared Elena must have been listening to all this? Like, what

if he had found that cell phone in her shoe? It's just terrifying. Oh, my God. Yeah, but it was a gold mind for Detective Bisgard. At first, he thought she was dead, Robbie told Elena, just from the punches to her head, or at least brain dead. But then she moaned a little, and he realized she was still alive. So he choked her with his forearm until the last breath went out of her body. And then he said something that made Detective Biscard sit straight up in his chair, something that showed clear, cold-blooded premeditation. He said, I never once thought about killing her in detail, ever, until she took her top off that night, and then I was like, I'm killing her tonight. Oh, Lord. That whole time at the photo shoot, as Brittany posed for pictures and laughed with her teammates,

Robbie Walters was sitting in the dark, beyond the stage, thinking about murder. So, why hadn't Elena immediately gone to the cops with this? A few reasons, I think. I mean, like most of us would be, she was reluctant to believe that the love of her life was a killer. And Robbie had always been prone to talking shit. He's always had an imagination, she told Detective Bisgard, he's always been different in the head. Elena had talked it over with a few of her friends, and they were like, look, if he actually did this, wouldn't he be in jail already? I mean, wouldn't there be proof, evidence, right?

She managed to convince herself that Robbie was just messed up from the trauma of the car accident and Britney's death, right in front of him, for God's sake, and he just needed time to get his head straight. He was probably having survivors guilt. Maybe part of him felt like he was responsible for Britney dying, just because he was the one still alive. So I think it could have been all of that, or maybe she was just scared. I'm pretty sure I would be. And once the cat was out of the bag, Robbie must have realized he probably shouldn't have did that and decided to hedge his bets by threatening to kill Elena.

He told me he'll punch me in the face, she told Detective Bisgard he'll snap my neck. Robbie couldn't seem to decide whether to butter Elena up or tear her down. On Christmas morning, he brought a little holiday cheer into her life by repeatedly telling her he was going to kill her. Merry Christmas, right? Later, a visiting friend overheard him tell her quote, your life is going to end in five minutes.

Another time, he told her, you need to die because you know too much. Whose fault is that, dipshit parade? That would be yours. God, Robbie almost seemed to revel in telling Elena the awful details, though. He'd thought about taking Brittany to the hospital after he beat her, he said, but he didn't want to go to jail, so she had to die. He thought about setting the car on fire instead of crashing it. When the first responders got to the scene, he'd started screaming, Brittany, Brittany, to put on a good show for the cops. Detail after awful detail.

According to an article in the Denver publication Westward, he told Elena he'd always, quote, been like this, by which I assume he meant he's always had the potential for murder in him. When Elena told him he should have gotten help years ago and then maybe Brittany would still be around, he said there was no point. There was no fixing him.

He seemed pretty pleased with himself for the most part, though. He'd made the plan and gone through with it step by step, he said, and gotten away with it. but sometimes he'd freak out at the idea of going to prison. One night Elena came home to find him in the bathtub with a razor blade and a note that said he'd rather die than go to jail. Yikes, right? So Elena had pretty much been living in hell for the past few months,

and when she finally spilled her guts to Detective Bisgard, she sounded relieved. Bisgard was relieved, too. When he played the recording from Medical Examiner Dr. John Carver, the one who'd initially ruled Britney's manner of death undetermined, everything suddenly made perfect sense. The bruising on the right side of her head, just where it would be if Robbie had punched her from the passenger seat. The fact that they'd found blood spatter in the car

that had to have come from before the crash. The forearm across her neck would explain why they weren't any fingernail marks or finger bruising on Brittany's neck, and it would explain the paticule hemorrhaging, too. And of course, the recording explained why Brittany had been fatally injured while Robbie came out of the wreck without a scratch. It was enough to convince Dr. Carver to change the manner of to homicide. Robbie Walters had hit Brittany hard in the head while she was driving, and then

again and again once she pulled the car over to the side of the road. Witness statements support this, by the way, multiple people had seen Brittany's car idling on the side of the highway that night, and a couple had even called 911 about it. And then, realizing he'd gone too far this time, and if Britney told on him he could go to jail for a serious assault, he choked her to death, drove to that dead-in street, and tried to stage the murder as a car crash. It had almost worked. Almost. But just three days after his phone call with Elena,

Detective Bisgard flew to California and put the Royal habeas gravis on Robbie Walters. And Royal it was. Robbie insisted he was innocent. He was barely awake when the accident happened. The last thing he and Britt had said to each other was, I love you. Ugh, barf.

Barf indeed. Bisgard wasn't moved, and when he told Robbie about the record, our boy went white as a sheet and clammed up. I bet he did. Oh, God, to be a fly on the wall. I know. Oh, my God.

Later, though, when Susan Spencer interviewed him, he had plenty to say about Elena and her recordings. It wasn't a confession. It was manipulation. Elena was just accusing him of things, and he was sarcastically going along with her. Like, oh, sure, Elena, that's right. I killed her.

That's what happened, though, right? which if you've heard even like two minutes, like two seconds of the recording, is just laughably ridiculous. Yeah. But in Robbie's mind, Elena set him up because he fell in love with another woman and broke her heart. So evil, he told Susan Spencer, so evil. Yeah, Robbie, tell us again about how you're the victim in all this. It's Britney's fault. You got put in jail.

and it's Elena's fault you're arrested for murder. What a martyr for our times. Biches, man. Always holding you accountable for your actions. For all his protestations of innocence, once Robbie was sitting in jail waiting for trial, he realized just exactly what a mountain of shit he was in. And the creepy little gear started turning in his mind.

First, he tried manipulating Elena, who for some reason was taking his phone calls from jail. Calls, which were, of course, recorded. Before long, it started to sound to the prosecutors like Robbie had convinced Elena he was innocent, that his murder confession had just been a bizarre lie, born of trauma and grief over Britney's death. I know, face palm, right? Dude was playing his poor wife like a cheap violin. On one recording, Elena tells him she still loves him, and he says,

well, you'll soon have a chance to prove that in court. But it didn't last. Guys like Robbie aren't the most trusting, you know. And apparently, he wasn't super confident that he'd convinced Elena to get up on the stand and shill for him at trial, especially after one phone call where he'd lost his shit for a minute and said this to her. I don't like your fucking emotion. I don't like the way you are with me.

I don't like that you're still trying to be with me after every fucking thing I've done to you. I don't fucking like you. I don't respect you as a human being. I'd shit on you. I chose another girl over you. I went to Colorado to live with somebody else other than you. Over my family. I gave up on all of you.

I don't like you people. I love you in the sense that I would die for you, but I don't like you. I don't like my fucking life. Yikes. That's all we could say about that. Yikes. So in true super dingus fashion, our boy joined the illustrious lineup of Brainiacs who tried this before him and asked one of his prison buddies to help him find a hitman.

Oh, bless his heart. Oh, I'm sorry. Did you think this case wasn't going to include an attempted hitman hiring? Because you're about to be disappointed. The plan, TM, was that a friend of the inmates would go pick up Elena in California and bring her to Colorado. And of course, they'd kill her on the way. Robbie paid $2,000 up front with a promise of 4,000 when the dirty deed was done. Now, of course, as is so often the case, this inmate knew exactly which side his bread was buttered on and immediately told the cops, who slapped a shiny new solicitation of murder charge

on top of Robbie's murder charge. And I love this. The inmate told investigators that he never intended to hurt Elena. He just saw Robbie as a great target because he thought he was an arrogant prick. Yeah, I concur. And he's got the most punchable face. Like, oh, he's the most punchable face

since dies and Hosenkov. Like, just get a load of this guy. He is perunchable. So, of course, the prosecutors let Elena in on the fact that she'd come scarily close to being murdered, and finally, finally, she seemed to get it. It being what a flippin monster she was married to. The next time they talked on the phone, Robbie tried his manipulative bullshit on her, and she just cut him off cold and said,

I don't believe a word coming out of your mouth. And that was it. And when the trial began, Elena made a terrific witness for the, the prosecution. But boy, it was hard on old Robbie. He told 48 hours, the second most painful thing I've ever had to go through is watching Elena get on the stand and just cold-blooded, no emotion, totally heartless, didn't even look at me, not one time, even when they told her to point out Mr. Robert Walters. She can't be trusted, Susan Spencer asked him. Nah, she's like a puppet, he said. Yeah, you're just pissed she's not your puppet anymore.

Robbie's tired old song and dance was that Elena was doing all this for revenge. You know, that tried and true frame your cheating husband for murder routine that women have been up to since the dawn of time. Forget about all this mountain of evidence, this whole case just comes down to the jealous rage of some filthy woman.

Right, my dude, right. The one smart thing Robbie did do during his trial was declined to take the stand, but it didn't do him any good. Well, yeah, the sheer smug coming off the witness stand would have destroyed the atmosphere if he did. Definitely. But after two days of deliberation,

the jury found him guilty of murder. He was sentenced to life without parole. To Brittany's younger brother John, though, it didn't really feel like justice, because it wouldn't bring his sister home. One small little ray of light in this case is that after the trial, Robbie's ex-wife Elena and Brittany's dad, Barry,

became good friends. She's a good girl, Barry said later. He was grateful to her for putting herself on the line to get justice for his daughter. She and Brittany might have actually been friends if they'd known each other, but because of one man's pathetic insecurity and arrogance, they'd never have the chance. So listen, if you are with a guy like Robbie or a girl or whoever, I want you to think about this, okay? Jealousy might feel real good in the moment. It's like, oh, he cares about me so much. It just drives him crazy to see me talking to another guy. It can feel good, you know? It really can

in the moment, but, y'all, that is not love. Okay? Possessiveness is not love. Control is not love. Telling you what you can and can't wear. Not love. Telling you who you can and can't talk to. Not love. Passion is not the same thing as constant drama. It shouldn't be 24-7 intensity up, up-down, up-down, that is not healthy. Love means respect. It means you genuinely like each other. Your friends first. If you're getting a bad feeling in your gut about your relationship, then please, I'm begging you. Make a plan. get a support system around you and get the hell out as soon as you can. So that was a wild one, right campers? You know, we'll have another one for you next week. But for now, lock your doors, light your lights, and stay safe until we get together again around the true crime campfire. We also want to send a grateful shout out to a few of our lovely patrons. Thank you so much to Marie, Tessa, Katie, Claire, Abby, Courtney, and Mary.

We appreciate y'all to the moon and back. And if you're not yet a patron, you are missing out. Patrons of our show get every episode, add free, at least a day early, sometimes even two, plus an extra episode a month. And once you hit the $5 and up categories, you get even more cool stuff. A free sticker at $5, a rat enamel pin while supplies last at 10, virtual events with Katie and me, and we're always looking for new stuff to do for you. So if you can, come join us at patreon.com slash true crime campfire. And for great TCC merch, visit the True Crime Campfire store at Spreadshirt.com.

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