“It’s like saying Bigfoot took her or that she spontaneously combusted—both of which are actual theories with apologists online. The point is you can say anything but we’re not going to give any credence to the outlandish and fanciful if they have no evidence undergirding them.”
“Now,” Merrick adds, “we’re going to look at every possibility—even the farfetched—but if there’s nothing to suggest that they could possibly be true, we won’t be covering them on our show. We’re not going to waste your or our time. If there’s evidence that Deputy McCann had anything to do with Randa’s disappearance then we’ll look at it, but we’re not going to accuse him or speculate about him just because he was the first officer on the scene.”
“So back to the initial investigation,” Daniel says. “Deputy McCann thought it was just a parked car. He did a search around the area. Saw no sign of the driver or anyone else. No sign of foul play.”
“So he has the car towed . . . and that’s really about it. Until two days later when her family reports her missing and everybody begins to question why she was three-hundred miles from where she was supposed to be.”
“What we’re saying is the investigation started two days late,” Daniel says. “Once it started, it seems like it was thorough and sound, but . . . losing two entire days . . .”
“Hard to overcome that kind of deficit,” Merrick says. “The cops went back to the area. Turned it into a crime scene. There was a massive search for Randa—in the woods, along the highway, in Panther Swamp, in the bay, on Cape San Blas. Dogs were brought in. At first search dogs. Then later cadaver dogs. And not only was there a massive search then, Randa’s family—and we’ll be getting into Randa’s fascinating family in a later show—has continued to search for her.”
“And there’s never been a single piece of evidence,” Daniel says. “Not a trace, not a sign—nothing, not then and not since—that shows she was ever there.”
“She literally vanished off the face of the earth,” Merrick says. “If she wound up in the bay, her body would’ve washed up at some point. If she died in the swamp, there’s a good chance the searchers would have found her. So . . . given that, you might say, well, someone took her, but how in less than seven minutes and maybe as few as five did a killer happen to be passing by just at the right moment? Can you imagine the odds, the timing, of that happening? It’s astronomical. And don’t forget she had just refused help from Roger Lamott. Can’t see her getting in the car with someone else. At least not willingly.”
“But,” Daniel says, “there is some evidence that may indicate that’s exactly what happened. Well, not the willingly part.”
“You’re talking about the search dogs, right?” Merrick says.
“Uh huh. Search dogs picked up her scent near where her car was and followed it down the side of the highway about fifty yards or so and then . . .”
“Lost the scent.”
“Right. It didn’t go into the woods on either side. Didn’t double back or keep going. It just stopped.”
“Like she got into a car.”
“Like she got into a car,” Daniel repeats.
“And maybe she did,” Merrick says, “but . . . after two days . . . with a good hard rain and all those people stomping around the crime scene . . . it’s possible the dog just lost the scent—or that it was gone.”
I stop the podcast and turn off the car.
Anna shakes her head and says, “What do you think happened to her?”
I shrug. “Don’t have nearly enough yet to even hazard a guess.”
“Well, you’re the only one. You should read the shit online.”
“No I shouldn’t and neither should you.”
She smiles. “Can’t help myself. Speaking of . . . Can we listen to some more while we fall asleep?”
114
After paying the babysitter, I called Johanna while Anna put Taylor to bed. Now, after making love, we are in our bed about to listen to more of the podcast.
“Be honest,” I say. “Did it cross your mind to ask if we could listen to it while we were making love?”
She smiles her plead-the-fifth smile and changes the subject. “How was Johanna?”
“Good. Sleepy. Excited to be coming this weekend.”
“Can’t wait ’til she’s here. Wish we had her all the time.”
“I know you do, and I appreciate that more than you know. Thank you for how good you are with her.”
“She’s our girl. Just like Taylor. Thank you for how good you are with her.”
“I love our family.”
“I do too,” she says. “Can you imagine being Randa Raffield’s parents?”
I shake my head and actually shudder a little bit, shaking the bed. “I feel so . . . I don’t have a word for what I feel for them.”
“Wonder if they appreciate all the attention Randa and her case are getting or if they feel exploited?”
“They’ve not said anything publicly, but I plan to ask them when I talk to them.”
“That’s right,” she says. “You’re official. Unlike all the amateur sleuths working this thing, you can talk to them. Guess I’m not quite used to you being official yet. Wonder how Merrick and Daniel will really feel if you solve it? I know they say they just want it solved, but I wonder if they really want to be the ones who solve it.”
“Bet it’s both. I’m sure they’ll be very happy for the case to be cleared no matter who does it—especially Merrick if it’s Reggie’s department that does it—but I’m sure they’d love to be the ones to solve it. Any sleuth, armchair or otherwise, would want to.”
“Who do you think wants to be the one who solves it more, them or you?”
“It’s not even close. Me.”
“Well, let’s listen so you can,” she says.
I turn on the podcast.
“Before we start today’s show, we need to say a few things,” Merrick says.
“Yes we do,” Daniel says. “We are united on this and we have a very strong resolve.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Merrick says. “We won’t be intimidated or threatened or bullied off this case.”
“No we won’t,” Daniel adds.
“And we’re not talking to our critics or even the trolls out there in the anonymity of the internet.”
“We can handle criticism. We can handle you disagreeing with us—what we’re doing, how we’re doing it. Even when you do it disagreeably.”
“Right. We’re not talking to our critics and detractors. We’re talking to those actually threatening us, those of you who wish harm upon us and our families.”
“We’ve received threatening phone calls, emails, letters, messages, and now even videos that show our loved ones—as if they’re being stalked, telling us to back off or we’ll know what it’s like to lose a loved one too.”
I stop the podcast and call Merrick.
“You okay?” I say.
“Yeah, why?”
“I was just listening to the podcast and heard about the threats.”
“Oh, yeah. We’re fine. That was a while back. Reggie looked into it. Think you were away helping your dad with the Bundy case or something.”
“What’d she find out?”
“Nothing. We’re being extra careful. Think it’s just an internet troll who took it too far. Looks like the pictures and footage in the video is all from Facebook and other online places, but the way he edited it, it looks like he shot it and was stalking us. It’s crazy how many crazies there are around this case, man. And I have no doubt some of them are truly dangerous—hell, it could even be Randa’s killer for all we know. It’s Daniel I feel bad for. Just him and Sam in that big, secluded house in Tallahassee.”
“We’ll figure something out for them,” I say. “And we’ll try to get to the bottom of who’s behind it. Be extra careful until then.”
“Dan and I both got concealed carry permits.”
“Then be even extra, extra careful,�
�� I say.
He laughs. “We will. Reggie says her money’s on one of us shooting ourselves before this is all over.”
When we disconnect, I tell Anna what he said.
“Who would have the motive to do something like that besides the killer?”
“Could truly just be a crazy. We need to find out. Want to listen to more or did you get sleepy?”
“Please, sir, I want some more,” she says in her best British accent, which isn’t very good.
“It’s interesting how bad that was and how turned-on I am,” I say, and start the podcast again.
“So what do we actually know about Randa Raffield’s family?” Merrick says.
“Before we get into that,” Daniel says, “we should clear something up that seems to be causing a lot of confusion. There’s a Raffield Fisheries located in Port St. Joe just a few miles from where Randa went missing. And some people believe she was headed there—or to see some of the Raffields in the area. They’re a big family in Port St. Joe. But Randa Raffield isn’t related to any of the Raffields that live in Port St. Joe.”
“Again, one of the biggest theories floating around online is that she was related to them and on her way to see them,” Merrick says, “but it’s just incorrect. She is no relation to the Raffields of Port St. Joe.”
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s talk about her family,” Daniel says. “Randa’s mom and dad, Lynn and Jerry Raffield, divorced when she was fifteen—something that by all accounts was very difficult for her.”
“Yes,” Merrick says. “Until that happened she was a straight-A student, a star swimmer for her high school, a very happy, carefree young woman.”
“And it wasn’t like she completely changed after her parents split up.”
“Not at all. She just lost her way a little. Wasn’t as happy. Didn’t make as good of grades. Got into a little trouble here and there. Again, nothing major, but enough to contrast how she had been before.”
“Randa grew up in Fort Walton Beach,” Daniel says. “After the divorce, she and her mom, who by the way didn’t change her name and didn’t plan to until Randa was grown, stayed in Fort Walton, while Jerry, her dad, moved out to Seaside.”
“Seaside of The Truman Show fame,” Merrick says.
“Yes, the planned community along 30A where Jim Carrey’s movie The Truman Show was shot. A place Merrick and I couldn’t afford to live.”
“No doubt,” Merrick says. “Now think about this, on the night she disappeared, Randa, who was supposed to be in Atlanta, had to pass by both her mom’s place and her dad’s place on her way to wherever she was heading.”
“That’s right,” Daniel says. “I never thought of it quite that way. But you’re—but how do we know she didn’t stop?”
“Just going by the official statements. Neither parent saw her that night—according to them. And we know her mom was on the phone with her at the time of the accident, but she thought it was in Atlanta or on the way back.”
“So . . . Randa’s mom is a minister at a small New Thought church called Unity of Fort Walton,” Daniel says. “She’s been there a long time—most of Randa’s childhood and adolescence. She took a short break after Randa disappeared but is still the minister there.”
“New Thought? What is that?”
“A relatively recent philosophical and spiritual movement that says stuff like Infinite Intelligence is supreme, universal, and everlasting, that divinity dwells in everyone, that the highest spiritual principle is love, and that most of our problems and issues are a result of the shit we think.”
“Gotcha. Okay. Now . . . Jerry Raffield is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice and he writes pop psychology books of the self-help variety. We should note that his mom left him the house in Seaside and some money when she passed away, which is how he’s able to afford to live there.”
“From what we can gather,” Daniel says, “it looks like Lynn wanted the divorce and Jerry didn’t, but still, he felt bad for how it affected Randa and tried to make it up to her in a variety of ways.”
“He indulged and pampered her,” Merrick adds.
“Looks like it, yes. And we’ll get into that more when we look at Randa’s background and its possible impact on what happened to her.”
“We’ll try to suss out any clues that might help us solve the case,” Merrick says. “Not only in her background, but specifically in the weeks and days leading up to her disappearance.”
“Yes, she had a lot going on,” Daniel adds. “Which may be suggestive.”
Anna taps my arm and I stop the podcast. “You falling asleep?” I ask.
“No, not yet. Just wanted to say, don’t you think Merrick and Daniel are doing a great job? It’s so smooth and conversational, so easy to listen to.”
“Really is,” I say. “Merrick was saying to me given the state of journalism and the crisis in print media, he thought that this part of his life was over and he didn’t know what he was going to do. I think this is a perfect fit for him.”
“And it’s got to be good for poor Daniel,” she says.
“Speaking of . . . Given the threats they’re receiving and how much is on him in taking care of Sam, I’m gonna see if he’d move over here, closer to us, closer to Merrick and Reggie, Merrill and Zaire, even Dad and Verna—figure we could all keep an eye on them and help him with her.”
“That’s a great idea. Think he will?”
“If we find the right situation for them. I’m looking.”
“Let me know what I can do,” she says.
Though my first inclination is to say she has enough on her with taking care of a baby and sometimes a young child, I recall what she said earlier about feeling restless and instead say, “I will. I’ll need your help.”
“Just name it.”
“I will. Thanks. Want to listen to some more or are you—”
“Think I’m too sleepy now,” she says, trying to stifle a yawn. “You go ahead. I know you need to get through it as quickly as you can. I’ll catch up tomorrow while Taylor naps.”
I lean over and kiss her goodnight, then retrieve my headphones from the table, and in the darkness of our bedroom with my future wife sleeping next to me, dive back into the rabbit hole that is the Randa Raffield case.
115
“Jerry and Lynn Raffield have not only contradicted each other, they’ve contradicted themselves,” Merrick says.
“They’ve both made similar statements, believed similar things—but never at the same time—and they’ve both changed what they initially said they thought it was.”
“Jerry’s first statements indicated he thought Randa intended herself harm, that whatever she was doing on that barren stretch of 98, wherever she was headed, it was to end her life.”
“And there were items in her car that suggest he might be right,” Daniel adds. “We’ll get into that in our ‘Randa’s Car’ episode, but I just wanted to mention that there is some other evidence—both in Randa’s behavior and things in her car—that indicate Jerry might be right.”
“Yes, and we’ll get to those very soon,” Merrick says. “As for Lynn, she first said that Randa had confided in her that she thought she might be being stalked and she, Lynn, was convinced that someone took her daughter. Said Randa had no intentions of doing herself harm. And here again . . . there is indeed evidence that indicates maybe Randa was being stalked. She was definitely having guy problems.”
“So,” Daniel says, “the question is, who knew more about their daughter at the time of her disappearance?”
“You would think a distinguished psychologist would know if someone was suicidal,” Merrick says, “but your own family members are often the most difficult to diagnose.”
“And in general,” Daniel says, “I’d expect a daughter that age to be closer to her mother. Maybe she had confided things to her that she hadn’t yet shared with her dad.”
“But there is some question about whether she w
as close to either one of them at the time she vanished.”
“Some of her friends said she had withdrawn from everyone but her boyfriend—including her parents—which . . . I mean . . . she passed by both of their places that night without stopping to see either one, so . . .”
“As far as we know,” Merrick adds.
“Yes, as far as we know. But then both her parents seemed to change their story.”
“Yes,” Merrick says. “So, at first Jerry indicated Randa intended to harm herself, but then the very next day, he made statements to the media that his daughter was missing, someone had her, and he criticized the Gulf County Sheriff’s Department for not doing more to find her and get her back.”
“Some have theorized that Jerry changed his story because someone had convinced him that law enforcement would do more to find an abducted girl than one who went off to do herself in.”
“And that’s probably right,” Merrick says. “But that’s just a guess on our part. We don’t really know. Maybe Jerry learned something else about this daughter that made him change his mind. Maybe Lynn convinced him. Maybe he . . . who knows.”
“Then later,” Daniel says, “both parents seemed to suggest that they thought both scenarios were possible. Lynn made statements that seem to indicate she was at least open to the idea that her daughter wanted to harm herself—though she said if she did it was because of her stalker and not because of the other reasons and theories people believe about Randa and her compromised mental state.”
“Eventually, Jerry too indicated that it could be either—though it really did seem that whatever one parent said, the other would contradict, that they would go back and forth like that.”
“But,” Daniel adds, “eventually they both stopped communicating with the press or police. They each were on one of those true crime TV shows at about the five- and ten-year marks, though different shows, but nothing since and nothing in between. And they both have attorneys that do all their speaking for them.”
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