Transcription
[Music] So, I'm here now and everything's okay.
So, I don't know what else. Well, we obviously we just we want to make sure that he's safe and know where he is. Who's the friend that you left it with? Um, I love him with another lady. I don't have her information.
Oh, well that's that's not going to cut it. We got to figure out where he's at.
Ariel Hosu Garcia was born on January 4th, 2020 in Lynwood, California. A little boy with a whole life ahead of him. But tragically, Ariel's story was cut short, ending in a way no child should ever face. By age four, Ariel was living in Snomish County, Washington. And in March 2024, his name would make headlines across the Pacific Northwest.
On the morning of March 27th, Ariel was last seen at an Everett apartment in the 4800 block of Vesper Drive. That afternoon, investigators say Janet Steelblue Nissan Sentra was caught on surveillance near Joint Base Lewis McCord. Prosecutors allege she pulled something wrapped in a white blanket from her trunk, walked into the trees, and returned emptyhanded. Hours later, around 6:15 p.m., she was spotted trespassing at a group home in Ridgefield, her clothes stained with blood. By then, a regional manhunt was underway.
The following day, March 28th, the search ended in heartbreak. Ariel's body was found along I5 near Joint Base Lewis McCord. He'd been stabbed at least 16 times in his chest, abdomen, and back and left in the brush like discarded trash. The Pierce County Medical Examiner later turned the case over to Snomish County where Janet Garcia would face the most serious charge a parent could, firstderee murder.
But the truth is there had been warnings. 5 days earlier, Ariel's grandmother, Maria Garcia, had called Washington's Child Protection Agency, pleading for help. She said her daughter was using drugs and acting crazy, that Janet had been hitting Ariel, that she dragged her 7-year-old son out of bed and took him barefoot to a bar. Maria begged them to act. She even had court paperwork in hand for emergency custody of both boys. But DCYF decided her concerns didn't meet the threshold for opening a case. The case worker later admitted to juggling an overwhelming case load. 15 cases the month before, 12 that month. Washington's policy leans toward keeping families together, offering services instead of removing children.
On March 27th, the very day Ariel vanished. His grandmother had just been granted emergency guardianship. But it was already too late. That morning, Ariel disappeared from the Everett apartment. Inside, investigators found a large blood stain and a small bloody handprint. When police finally reached Janet by phone, she gave conflicting stories. First she claimed Ariel fell out of bed and was hurt. Then she said Portland, then Seattle, and then she hung up. That night, deputies arrested her. She had blood on her shoes and shirt.
Can I open the zipper? Just check in there. Thank you.
I just want to make sure before
What's going on today with you? And like sounds like the cops have been talking to you already.
Yeah. So my um So I
You got some blood drops on your shoes?
Yeah.
On April 22nd, Janet Garcia stood before Snomish County Superior Court Judge Cindy Larson for her arraignment. She was 27 years old dressed in civilian clothes without restraints and she pleaded not guilty to the charge of firstdegree murder in the stabbing death of her son Ariel. Her plea meant she was denying any role in her son's death. Even after prosecutors described a prolonged violent attack and even after her own mother had warned authorities that Ariel was in danger, her mother's warnings now feel tragically prophetic.
Just 2 days before Ariel disappeared, Maria had filed for emergency guardianship. In her affidavit, she wrote, "I love my grandson, and I want to protect him from whatever his mom is capable of while she is on drugs." She described Ariel as frightened of his mother. She said Janet's violence and drug use made her unpredictable and dangerous. And yet, in court, Janet stood there and denied responsibility. Her defense attorney, Katherine Frasier, argued there wasn't enough evidence to prove the killing was premeditated. But deputy prosecutor Martina Wong countered, pointing to the brutality of the crime. She told the court Ariel's wounds showed the violence went on for a prolonged period of time. An autopsy revealed 16 sharp force wounds to the front of his body, a cluster of others across his back, and defensive injuries on his arm. Proof he tried to fight back. In the end, Judge Larson said it was enough. She found probable cause for the murder charge to move forward.
For Maria Garcia, the grandmother who fought so hard to save him, none of this will ever feel like justice. Ariel's life ended far too soon. He should have been learning to ride a bike, playing with friends, running to his grandmother's arms. Instead, his story shows us just how fragile a child's safety can be. If you ever suspect a child is in danger, don't wait. Speak up. Report it. Because your voice could be the one that saves tomorrow.
Ashley Marie Dittle was born on May 20th, 1998 to Jeff and Anmarie Dittle. She grew up in Lafayette, Colorado before moving to Bertha, where her name quickly became known in the rodeo world. Horses weren't just her passion, they were her life. Ashley started riding at just 5 years old. By her teens, she was dominating 4 horse competitions and eventually earned the title of champion individual overall at the Western National 4 Horse Roundup. She didn't stop there. As vice president of the Thompson FFA and a driving force behind starting the chapter, Ashley discovered her love for agriculture and plan to take that passion to the state level. That spring, she graduated from Berth High School. She'd been named the 2016 Boulder County Fair and Rodeo Lady in Waiting and was set to attend Colorado State University in the fall to study agricultural business. She had her whole life ahead of her. And then in an instant, it was gone.
On June 9th, 2016, just three weeks after her 18th birthday, Ashley met her ex-boyfriend, 19-year-old Tanner Flores at Lon Haggler Reservoir to talk about their relationship. It would be the last conversation she ever had. Later that evening, Anarie reported her daughter missing. Ashley's car was found abandoned at the reservoir. Hours later, police discovered her body in the back of a truck Flores had been driving. The next day, deputies found him more than 200 miles away on his late grandfather's property on Colorado's western slope. Branson family later said they'd been concerned when they noticed his father's gun was missing, the same gun that had been kept locked up at home.
In court, Flores admitted to shooting Ashley inside his pickup truck. At first, he claimed she'd grabbed the gun and it went off during a struggle. But when pressed, he changed his story, saying that when she looked away, he shot her twice in the back of the head. And when she didn't die instantly, he shot her again. Prosecutors argued Flores was a jealous, controlling ex who planned the murder, taking his father's gun, arranging the meeting, and forcing Ashley into his truck before killing her. The defense claimed it was an impulsive act fueled by heartbreak. After more than a week of emotional testimony from friends, family, and investigators, the jury convicted him of firstdegree murder after deliberation, felony murder, and kidnapping. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole, plus 32 additional years.
Ashley's death wasn't random. It was teen dating violence, specifically breakup violence. One in three US teens between the ages of 14 and 20 experience dating violence. And young women Ashley's age face triple the risk. And Marie said she'd worried about her daughter falling from a horse or getting into a car accident, never imagining the danger would come from someone she once trusted. In her statement to the court, she offered sympathy to the Flores family, but made it clear compassion doesn't erase accountability. There is no winner in this, she said. We're happy to have justice for Ashley, but in reality, two families were destroyed through this process. My heart goes to the Flores family as well. She explained she never wanted the death penalty for Flores. The Dittles didn't want to take from him what he had taken from Ashley. When given the chance to speak, he declined, staring into the distance as Anmarie said she even felt bad for him, knowing his own actions had taken away his chance at a free life.
In 2017, Ashley's family launched the Ashley Dittle Foundation. Working to raise awareness, educate teens and parents, and prevent other families from living this nightmare. Ashley can't come back, but her story can save lives if we're willing to listen, learn the warning signs, and speak up. Because this can happen to anyone, and it's happening far more often than you think.
It started with something as simple as a bottle of iced tea. But what happened next unraveled into a story of unimaginable violence, loss, and chilling revelations. On the afternoon of December 8th, 2022, 31-year-old Tory Damian Moore walked into the Dashin convenience store inside a Shell gas station on New Hampshire Avenue in Silver Spring, Maryland, just across from his apartment. He set a bottle of iced tea on the counter and began arguing with the clerk. That clerk was 61-year-old Ayalu Wandu, a hardworking immigrant known in the community for his kindness. The argument turned deadly. Moore pulled out a gun and shot WMU. When he collapsed behind the counter, Moore leaned over and shot him several more times. Cold, deliberate, final. He then calmly picked up the bottle of iced tea and walked back across the street to his apartment.
When SWAT officers responded to the shooting, they forced their way into his unit. And what they found was horrifying. Under a blanket, in an advanced state of decomposition, lay the body of 26-year-old Denise Middleton, Moore's girlfriend. Denise was 8 and 1/2 months pregnant. She had already chosen a name for their son, Ezekiel. Surveillance footage later showed Moore shoving Denise into the elevator weeks earlier on October 9th, 2022. That was the last time she was seen alive. Investigators determined he shot her seven times in their apartment at least four bullets piercing her back and then he stayed there with her remains for nearly a month. During that time, Moore traveled to North Carolina and California, leaving her lifeless in the apartment.
On his phone, investigators found chilling searches. How long does it take for a dead body to smell and how to move a dead body without being seen? He also looked up how to plead insanity. Moore was ordered to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. In December 2022, a judge found him incompetent to stand trial and sent him for treatment. But later, his competency was restored, clearing the way for trial. It was clear he knew exactly what he was doing when he shot Denise seven times. And perhaps the most haunting part, no one had even reported Denise missing. For weeks, the community had no idea a young woman and her unborn child had been killed until police uncovered the truth inside that apartment.
The trials that followed would make history in Montgomery County. In May 2023, Moore was convicted of first-degree murder for killing Ayaloo Wandmoo and illegal possession of a firearm. On November 22nd, 2024, another jury convicted him of two more counts of first-degree murder. one for Denise and one for her unborn son Ezekiel. It was the first conviction in Montgomery Countyy's history for the murder of a viable fetus. Judge Rachel McGugian sentenced Moore to three consecutive life terms plus 80 years, though the additional years will run concurrently. Realistically, he won't be eligible for parole until his 90s.
At sentencing, Judge McGuckian reflected on the horror of the crimes. at sentencing were left to wonder why he did what he did and really no one knows but him. Moore never spoke in his defense. His attorneys argued schizophrenia and lifelong mental illness fueled his actions, pointing to the fact that he lived and slept in the same apartment with Denise's body as evidence of a man detached from reality. But prosecutors saw it differently. the searches, the planning, the deliberate execution. It painted the picture of someone who understood exactly what he was doing. Someone who chose to destroy three lives, Denise, Ezekiel, and IOU.
It all started with something small, something most of us would never think twice about. a single tampon tossed in the trash. But for Julie Bush, 31 years old, it was proof of betrayal. And within hours, that discovery would spiral into violence that left a man dead and a family shattered. Julie lived in Las Vegas with her boyfriend, 51-year-old Richard Rick Pinardo Jr. Their relationship was already rocky and on that day in May 2024, while both were under the influence of meth and fentinel, it exploded.
Julie later told police she confronted Rick about the tampon. The argument quickly escalated outside a home near Oki Boulevard and Eastern Avenue. Rick grabbed a steel chain, swinging it at Julie's car. He shattered her windows again and again, and then Julie hit the gas. The car slammed into Rick, throwing him into a brick wall. He wouldn't survive his injuries. Prosecutors said it didn't happen just once. Julie left, came back, and within minutes rammed him again, and the entire violent confrontation caught on a doorbell camera, which hasn't been released publicly.
Months later, Julie faced a judge. She admitted guilt through a plea deal, voluntary manslaughter, and DUI resulting in death. At sentencing, she broke down. I love him very much. I'm sorry that he passed away, and I wish I could change it, but I can't. And I know there's not a sentence in the world that's going to make anybody satisfied. Her lawyer reminded the court she's a mother to a 5-year-old daughter. The judge handed down her fate. 12 to 35 years in prison. With time served, she won't be eligible for parole until 2036.
Rick's family was left to process the loss. His mother, Grace Fiser, told the court, "Rick wasn't perfect. He made plenty of mistakes and poor choices during his life. His biggest mistake was ever getting involved with Julie Bush. She made his life a living hell. And Rick's past was troubled. His record stretched back decades. Forgery, insurance fraud, conspiracy charges. In his most recent case, he served 3 to 10 years for unemployment insurance fraud. But the darkest chapter was in 2008, the death of Maria Marino. Rick took an Alfred plea in that case, meaning he didn't formally admit guilt, but acknowledged prosecutors had enough evidence to convict him. Records show he helped dispose of Maria's body on Mount Charleston alongside Maria's own sister and his niece. Both women admitted direct roles in Maria's death. Accounts differed on Rick's involvement. Some said he confessed to strangling her and beating her with a fire extinguisher. Others claimed he only helped conceal the crime. In the end, he served 2 to 5 years in prison for his role.
And here's the tragic twist. Prosecutors later said the tampon that sparked this deadly fight probably wasn't proof of infidelity at all. It most likely belonged to Rick's roommate. A misunderstanding, jealousy, drugs, and rage captured on a neighbor's Ring doorbell camera. Now Rick is gone. Julie will be in prison until at least 2036, and her little girl will grow up without her mother. One moment of drugfueled rage destroying several lives forever.
Terrence Keith AR was born on November 12th, 1966. By 18, he was a star athlete at Bernie High School. Fast on the track, tough on the football field, and just starting college at Shasta in Reading. His future was wide open. But on December 14th, 1984, Terry's life was stolen.
That night, he and a female friend parked on Mountain View Road just outside the high school gym. Inside the annual basketball tournament was buzzing with cheers, laughter, the sound of small town life. But just down the road, in the shadows, tragedy struck. A strange car pulled up. A man stepped out and without a word he opened fire. Terry did what came natural. He shielded his friend, but he was hit. The gunman dragged the young woman from the car, assaulted her, and vanished into the dark. And here's the part that still stuns me. Even after all she endured, she found the strength to drive into town for help. She survived. Terry didn't.
The crime shook Bernie to its core. Detectives chased every lead. They collected evidence. They built a sketch. Thousands of hours were poured into the case. At one point, they even arrested a man. But DNA cleared him. And for decades, the suspect's profile sat in Cotus waiting. Families waited. The town waited. But the answer never came until science finally caught up.
In 2025, investigators turned to Aram, a lab using forensic genealogy. They built a new DNA profile, and it led to one name, Roger Neil Schmidt, Jr. Schmidt had been 23 years old back then, living in Bernie, and he looked exactly like the original sketch. Detectives tracked him to Tucson, Arizona. In July 2025, they collected his DNA, and when the results came back, it was a perfect match. On July 19th, 2025, police arrested Schmidt at his apartment complex. Now 64, Freel in a wheelchair with an oxygen tank. But age doesn't erase accountability. He's being held without bail, facing charges of murder and sexual assault, and will be extradited to California.
For Sheriff Michael Johnson, this wasn't just another case closed. It was closure. Before the press conference, Terry's family and the woman who survived that night were quietly told the man responsible had finally been caught. This marks the 66th case in California solved through Aram's technology. Justice for Terry came late, nearly four decades late, but it came. And his story proves something important. Evidence never forgets.
But this story, it's more complicated than it looks on the surface because years after Terry's murder, another man was actually prosecuted for the crime. He sat behind bars for nearly 2 years awaiting trial. But when that trial finally began, new scientific testing limited by the technology of that time proved he wasn't the killer. The charges were dropped. He walked free. Already grieving Terry, the community now had to face the fact that an innocent man had nearly been sent away for life. He later filed a civil suit, one that ended with settlements from both Shasta County and the state of California. It's a reminder of how dangerous the gap between limited science and hard justice can be. But today, DNA doesn't lie. And the cost of using it, the cost of hunting violent predators should never ever be a factor. Because in the end, what matters are the victims. Terry mattered, his friend mattered, and every victim waiting in a cold case file still matters.
[Music] [Applause] [Music]