When Homicides Remain Unsolved, Dedicated Volunteers Step In to Assist

PRESCOTT, Ariz.—Before she took on the challenge of investigating cold homicide cases, Theresa Higdon often recalled the saying: “There but for the grace of God, go I.”

These days, while examining images of unsolved murder victims from long ago, her thoughts have shifted.

The 74-year-old Higdon reflects, “But for the grace of God, I could have been there,” imagining how she might have intervened to save a life.

She acknowledges the natural human emotions that accompany such work—anger towards suspected killers and empathy for victims. The emotional investment in these cases transcends mere statistics of death.

Yet Higdon emphasizes, “You have a job to do”—her mission is clear: to aid in the pursuit of justice for victims by working to uncover their killers.

Higdon is among a dedicated group of four volunteer cold case investigators serving at the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office Criminal Investigations Bureau in Prescott, Arizona.

A cold case is typically defined as an unresolved crime that is no longer actively investigated by law enforcement.

After retiring as a business analyst from a leading insurance company, Higdon joined this volunteer unit, thinking her professional background could prove advantageous.

Neither she nor her fellow investigators receive compensation for their efforts.

“The only compensation I get is a pat on the back, which is preferable to a kick in the behind,” Higdon quipped while seated at her workstation, where dual computer screens awaited her attention.

However, the gravity of resolving a murder case is never lost on her.

The shared office, a compact 6-by-20-foot space within the sheriff’s office, is lined with tall filing cabinets and stacked cardboard boxes filled with evidence from unresolved cases.

The cold cases they tackle range from murders dating back to the 1950s to more recent, high-profile fraud cases involving victims who lost millions in online scams.

Higdon dedicates two days each week to her investigations, meticulously focusing on murder cases from 7:30 a.m. to 3 p.m.

She stresses that the age of a case does not concern her since there is no statute of limitations on homicide in the U.S.

“It comes down to available evidence, witness accounts, and leads to pursue. A case can be 60 years old or just six years old,” she explained.

The Murder Accountability Project reported that the FBI estimates approximately 57.8 percent of homicides in 2023 “were cleared through arrests or circumstances such as the offenders’ deaths during arrest.”

A heightened clearance rate in 2023 coincided with a notable decrease in the overall number of murders, allowing overwhelmed homicide units to make strides in resolving the significant backlog of unsolved cases, as highlighted on the project’s website.

The Murder Accountability Project discovered that nearly 340,000 homicide and non-negligent manslaughter cases went unresolved from 1965 to 2022.

During that 57-year span, the nation witnessed over a million murders, with more than 673,000 (approximately 67 percent) resolved.

Texas reported the highest homicide total, exceeding 92,500, and successfully cleared upwards of 67,000 cases, achieving a clearance rate of nearly 73 percent.

Arizona experienced 17,671 homicides, with 63 percent being solved, leaving nearly 6,500 cases unresolved.

A Fresh Perspective

Lt. Michael Dannison from the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Office CIB shared with The Epoch Times that volunteers contribute unique skills and a “fresh perspective” to each cold case.

Out of approximately 300 police volunteers countywide, a small subset focuses on cold cases. While some bring backgrounds in engineering, finance, or other sectors, two have prior law enforcement experience.

“Not everyone can handle it—or even wants to confront it, given the disturbing nature of the materials they’re exposed to—old crime scene and autopsy photos,” Dannison explained. “It takes a unique individual to willingly engage in such work.

“Sometimes, detectives become entrenched in their methods, so having a layperson present can offer a fresh take on cases,” he added.

To become a volunteer, individuals must pass a background check, demonstrate a strong interest in crime-solving, and undergo specialized training.

According to Dannison, the cold case unit was established in 2006 because the CIB, like many law enforcement agencies nationwide, lacked the manpower, funding, and time necessary to address cold cases effectively.

Out of over 200 unsolved cases in Yavapai County, volunteers helped distinguish those that were not actually cold cases, mislabeled, or pertinent to crimes in other jurisdictions.

Dannison noted that the volunteers have successfully resolved at least 30 cases over the past two decades and have reduced the backlog by approximately 85 cases.

“There’s never true closure, and detectives already have their hands full with current cold cases. They can’t delve into older unsolved cases,” he stated.

“Some cases are so outdated that they are no longer viable for investigation,” he added.

One particularly challenging cold case dates back to 1960, involving the discovery of a charred body of a 5-year-old girl in a shallow grave.

For many years, she was known as “Little Miss Nobody” until volunteers, leveraging forensic genealogical DNA analysis, managed to identify her remains in 2022.

Her actual name was Sharon Lee Gallegos, and she hailed from New Mexico.

Investigators believe she met her death due to strangulation, with suspicions that someone close to her disposed of her body in Yavapai County.

“We believe she was killed and brought here before being dumped. It’s likely that the perpetrator was a relative,” he explained.

While the case remains active, Dannison notes that the likelihood of solving it—“besides restoring Little Miss Nobody her identity”—is quite low.

“We encounter numerous cases like this,” he remarked, where substantial DNA connections exist between victims and suspects, but the latter might have passed away in prison, succumbed to natural causes, or taken their own lives.

“Unfortunately, there’s little recourse for such cases. It can be quite frustrating,” Dannison admitted.

Cold Case Resolved

He recounted how detectives could finally close the 1987 murder case of Catherine Sposito through the diligence of cold case volunteers.

On June 13, 1987, while hiking at Prescott’s Thumb Butte, Sposito was attacked from behind by her murderer, who initially struck her with a ratchet wrench, then inflicted multiple stab wounds, and ultimately shot her with a .22-caliber firearm.

At just 23 years old, Sposito courageously fought back, leaving a 125-foot trail of blood as she called out for help that came tragically too late.

Despite the abundance of physical evidence, investigators struggled to identify a prime suspect. Years passed before Higdon and other volunteers partnered with detectives to revisit the case.

Modern forensic DNA techniques eventually provided a breakthrough. However, the wrench bore multiple DNA profiles, with Sposito and her assailant being the most prominent.

“Budget limitations can become a hindrance in investigations,” Dannison remarked. “Testing any piece of evidence for DNA can cost nearly $8,000 for a single profile.”

At the time of Sposito’s murder, Bennett was a 16-year-old sophomore at Prescott High School, originally from Kentucky.

Further forensic evidence linked Bennett’s DNA to another female assault victim in the exact vicinity of Sposito’s murder three years later.

Law enforcement later connected Bennett to a third sexual assault victim in Chino Valley, eventually identifying a fourth victim as well.

On June 2, 1993, Bennett allegedly kidnapped 22-year-old Renee Sandoval in Yavapai County at knifepoint, according to investigators.

His failure to extinguish his headlights while driving led to a traffic stop by a police officer, enabling Sandoval to escape unharmed.

The officer placed Bennett under arrest, but prosecutors faced challenges in securing a conviction due to inconsistencies in witness statements across cases.

Bennett later returned to Calhoun County, Kentucky, where on June 27, 1994, he used a .22 caliber firearm to take his own life.

With the new DNA evidence, Dannison and other investigators were able to obtain a warrant to exhume Bennett’s remains and retrieve DNA for analysis.

“We were able to connect him to three sexual assaults and one murder,” Dannison revealed. “It was the only method to establish unequivocally his culpability in these crimes.”

During the press conference, Rhodes emphasized the indispensable role of cold case volunteers in the resolution of Sposito’s case.

“There has never been a time when full-time detectives have had the capacity to devote this level of effort to cases that are so long-standing. Resources simply aren’t available,” he noted.

Volunteers Play a Vital Role

Ron Norfleet, another cold case volunteer in Yavapai County, has made a specialty of addressing fraud cases.

The retired chemical engineer has committed the last six years to the cold case unit, motivated by a desire to give back to his community. Currently, he’s investigating two cases, one concerning a nurse in her 60s who was defrauded out of nearly $900,000 by an online scam artist.

Such fraudulent schemes, involving victims who unknowingly become entangled in the perpetrator’s deceitful romantic overtures, are colloquially referred to as “sweetheart scams.”

“It’s heartbreaking to see individuals fall victim to these scams, driven by emotions and loneliness,” Norfleet expressed. “I detest witnessing people lose their hard-earned money in these cons.”

“The work of volunteer investigators is crucial in addressing this country’s pervasive cold case dilemma,” asserted Karra Porter, the coalition’s volunteer CEO.

“With over 300,000 homicides and disappearances unresolved, law enforcement lacks the time and resources to fully address this massive caseload.

“There is a strong desire among volunteers— our nonprofit receives hundreds of applications for volunteer positions each year,” Porter informed The Epoch Times.

“The benefits of involving volunteers extend beyond mere budgetary or resource constraints. Each individual brings unique life experiences to the challenges faced in these cases.”

Porter added that many volunteers are retirees looking to stay active through meaningful work or seek out new adventures. When necessary, volunteers can dedicate weeks or even months to a single investigation.

“They meticulously assess evidence and propose potential resolutions. Volunteers will significantly contribute to bringing answers to families and communities regarding cold cases,” Porter concluded.

She emphasized that the coalition’s efforts have led to the resolution of over three dozen cold cases, locating missing persons, and identifying human remains.

Solving Puzzles

According to Dannison, the Yavapai County cold case volunteers frequently utilize genealogical DNA tools, such as Ancestry.com, to locate missing individuals and accurately identify remains where previous investigations have faltered.

“It’s all about details, solving puzzles, piecing together various elements,” Higdon expressed. “We are closer to finding resolution on several cases than we have ever been. Some have lingered unsolved for years.”

She continues to work on her initial case from 2017, the year she officially joined the team. “It involves a homicide. A female victim,” Higdon noted.

For Dannison, the sense of fulfillment that accompanies cracking a complex case, such as Sposito’s, is beyond words.

“I was astonished by the number of detectives who have been involved in that case over the years,” he shared. “There is immense satisfaction in proclaiming—‘Yes! Others couldn’t figure it out. But we did it!’”

In memory of Catherine, her family recently dedicated a bench in a serene section of Heritage Park in Prescott, celebrating her “spirit, smile, and love for nature.”

One peaceful December afternoon, this bench stood empty, facing the spot where Catherine lost her life. At its base, dried red roses lay wilting gently under the warm glow of the setting sun.

While Sposito’s memory continues to resonate, Higdon believes that overcoming the pain of losing a loved one to murder is an illusory dream.

“Many families who have lost someone do not favor the term ‘closure’ because it is misleading—there is no true closure,” she asserted. “Only the ability to move forward.”