Kendall Francois

The Disappeared
During the late 1980s, when Argentina experienced a great deal of political unrest, opponents of the government suddenly began to vanish off city streets. Frantic relatives appealed to the authorities, who would do little or nothing to help them. A strong suspicion developed that the government was deeply involved in the abductions. In truth, these people were kidnapped by the police themselves who frequently tortured or murdered the unfortunate victims. Many were never seen again. They were called “los desaparecidos,” the disappeared.

Something similar happened in Dutchess County in upstate New York during the years 1997 and 1998. But “los desaparecidos” in this case were not being abducted for political reasons. There were much darker motives. And when the truth emerged, it would leave in its wake at least eight women dead and a frightened, angry community that was dumbfounded that a serial killer could live and work undetected within their midst.

The Women
In October 1996, Wendy Meyers, age 30, was reported missing to the Town of Lloyd Police, in Ulster County, New York. She was described as a white female, with a slim build, hazel eyes and short brown hair. She was last seen at the Valley Rest Motel in Highland, a small town situated near the banks of the Hudson River just south of Kingston.

Two months later, in early December, 1996, Gina Barone was reported missing by her mother, Patricia Barone. Gina was 29 years old and had a small build, brown hair and an eagle tattooed on her back. On her right arm she had another tattoo that read simply “POP.” She was last seen November 29, 1996 in Poughkeepsie on a street corner, apparently having a dispute with a man.

Poughkeepsie is a small city of 28,000 located 90 miles north of New York City. Dutchess County has a long and dramatic history that can easily be traced back to the Revolutionary War. Like any other modern municipality though, Poughkeepsie has its problems. There is a small but persistent drug trade centered in the downtown area that periodically erupts into violence. Prostitutes can often be seen working the same area and shootings are not at all uncommon. Some say Gina was arguing over drugs on that November 29. But in any event, it was the last time anyone could remember seeing her alive.

The missing persons report was filed with the city of Poughkeepsie Police Department and assigned to the Detective Division. On January 1, 1997, the Divison came under the command of Det. Lt. Bill Siegrist, a 29-year veteran of the department. Although Wendy Meyers' disappearance was filed with the Town of Lloyd Police Department, she was well known to Poughkeepsie police and frequented the downtown area of the city. Lt. Siegrist became interested in the two cases. It seemed implausible that two girls who traveled in the same circles in the same city should suddenly disappear. “It seemed like more than a coincidence,” he said recently.

Then in January 1997, Kathleen Hurley, 47, disappeared. She was last seen walking along Main Street in the downtown area of Poughkeepsie. Kathleen, like the others, was white, had brown hair and a small build. The letters “CJ” were tattooed on her left bicep. Although it is not unusual for police to receive missing person reports, the three cases, Hurley, Meyers and Barone, seemed related. But people are reported missing for many reasons. Family disputes, simple runaways, drugs and a nomadic lifestyle are just a few of those reasons. Sometimes people are arrested in other jurisdictions and they neglect to notify their families. In other cases, people will simply move on to new areas only to return a short time later. In most cases, the missing person turns up within a few days and the report is subsequently cancelled.

Nevertheless, the Poughkeepsie Police were already interested in the cases. Lt. Siegrist made an inquiry to the Neighborhood Recovery Unit (N.R.U.), which is the department’s narcotic unit. N.R.U., like most police narc units, spends a lot of time on the streets and deals extensively with confidential informants, drug dealers, convicted criminals, prostitutes and other street dwellers almost on a daily basis. Usually, these units are a wealth of current information. N.R.U. reported back to Lt. Siegrist that some of the Main Street prostitutes were complaining of a local man who was rough with the girls and had been known to be violent during sex. He was Kendall Francois, who lived over on Fulton Avenue in the Town of Poughkeepsie, just minutes from the city’s downtown area. Lt. Siegrist, upon hearing this information, then contacted the Town of Poughkeepsie Police and made an inquiry about Francois. They reported that Francois had recently been the subject of an assault complaint by a prostitute.

Armed with this information, detectives decided to maintain surveillance of Francois’ home at 99 Fulton Avenue. But after several weeks of watching the residence in January 1997, no new information was developed. One prostitute cooperated with the police and allowed herself to be wired up and meet with Francois. The girl worked her usual spots in the city’s downtown area until Francois arrived in his white Toyota Camry. Although she had clear instructions not to get into his vehicle, the girl was able to engage Francois in conversation on a number of occasions. Police monitored these meetings but again, no useful information was obtained.

Two months later, on March 7, 1997, a woman named Catherine Marsh was reported missing by her mother. Catherine was last observed November 11, 1996 also in the city of Poughkeepsie. Four months had passed since she was last seen alive which made her case very difficult to investigate. Like the other girls, she was white, small build, blue eyes and brown hair. Her clothes and personal items were still at her apartment. Teletypes from across the nation were checked for recently discovered D.O.A.s who had not been identified. It is a routine practice for police to attempt to match up unidentified bodies with reports of the missing. Rap sheets were requested on all the missing girls to ascertain if they were in custody somewhere. Canvasses were made of the neighborhoods where the women frequented and arrest records were checked and re-checked. Specially-trained cadaver dogs from the Ramapo Rescue Squad were utilized to search areas in and around the city. The case came to a frustrating standstill with no workable leads and no viable suspects. But as Lt. Siegrist pointed out: “We had no evidence of criminality.” So on the surface, the cases were simply a series of missing persons reports. But on another level, the Detective Division was convinced something had happened to these women.

In April 1997, Poughkeepsie Police made a decision to contact the F.B.I. for help. Although the F.B.I. investigators were interested, they were limited by the circumstances of the case. In order to establish a profile of a suspect, they needed a crime scene. In this instance, there was no crime scene and worse, it had not been established that a crime had even occurred. Simply put, there was not much the F.B.I. could do.

On October 9, 1997, Michelle Eason, 27 years old, was reported missing in the city of Poughkeepsie. She too was last seen in the downtown area but unlike all the others, who were white, Michelle was an African American. She was also slight of build, barely 5’2 and 115 lbs.

Then, just one month later, on November 13, Mary Healy Giaccone, 29 years old, was reported missing. But this report was actually initiated by the police. Mary’s mother died in October 1997. Mary’s father, a retired New York State corrections officer, came to the police to ask for help in locating her so he could give Mary the bad news. But police soon discovered that Mary was actually last seen alive in February, 1997 on the same Poughkeepsie streets as some of the others. And like all the others, Mary was small, 5’4” and weighed 110 lbs. Police increased their efforts on the case. The similarities between the girls were striking. All the girls lived in or near Poughkeepsie, all had the same physical build, several of the girls had been arrested for prostitution and most did not have regular contact with their families. But all shared one common bond: they had simply vanished.

The Investigation
For the next few months, the police tried many different tactics to locate the missing women. Helicopter searches were made of the Dutchess County area by air. State Police searched the Hudson River and municipalities along the shore on a regular basis. Police informants were pressed for any information on the case. Hundreds of people were interviewed. With no hard evidence and no bodies, police were stumped. Although they realized the suspicious nature of the disappearances, the investigation was at a standstill.

But there was an ominous feeling among the detectives. Former F.B.I profiler Gregg McCrary told the Associated Press that the disappearances “were well beyond suspicious.” And because some of the women were prostitutes made the situation worse because prostitutes get into cars with just about anyone.

To complicate the situation further, different suspects continuously drifted in and out of the case. One man from the South, who had arrived in the Poughkeepsie area in the summer of 1997, became a suspect when it was revealed he was a convicted rapist and also a suspect in an unrelated missing persons. Almost to the very end of the case, this individual was considered a major suspect in the disappearances. Another city resident came to the attention of the police when prostitutes said that he was very rough with the girls during sex. In June of 1997, another local man was arrested for the rape and assault of a Poughkeepsie woman. Later he was found to be in custody during the disappearances of the first three women. A boyfriend of one of the missing women was also considered suspect because he had an extensive criminal record and had assaulted women in the past. But as various suspects were developed and abandoned, Kendall Francois remained on the list.

The public grew more concerned and criticism of the police was growing. There was a feeling in the community that the police were not taking the reports seriously since the missing women may have been prostitutes. Early on, street people were well aware of the situation since they were accustomed to seeing these women on a daily basis. The disappearances were very obvious to them. But the police rejected the criticism. Lt. Siegrist said “These girls don’t have set schedules. It took time for the families to realize something was wrong, and then they even thought for a while they might turn up.”

By the time the stories began to appear in the newspapers, the City of Poughkeepsie Police had already working the case for more than eight months. Of course, the public could not be told of the details of that investigation, so the police had to take the criticism mostly in silence.

In early January, 1998, Poughkeepsie Police made a decision to interview Francois about the missing women. They staked out the Francois home at 99 Fulton Avenue and soon discovered that Francois had a routine that he often followed. In the morning he would take the family car, drive his mother to work at a nearby psychiatric center where she was a nurse, drop her off and then return to downtown Poughkeepsie where he would cruise the streets.

On one cold morning, Lt. Siegrist and his detectives pulled over Francois and asked him to come into the police department for an interview. Francois, who had a calm and respectful demeanor, readily agreed and drove his own car over to the police station. Francois was interviewed over a period of several hours and answered all questions police asked of him. Of course, police still had no concrete ideas exactly what had happened to the missing girls and no clue where they could be found. But Francois was easy to talk to and cooperative. The police, however, were not convinced.

Poughkeepsie police accompanied him to his home where Francois even let a detective inside his room for a brief time. The detective reported back that the inside of the house was in horrendous condition. There was garbage virtually everywhere he could see. It smelled awful. But Francois made no admissions and said nothing incriminating. By law, he was free to go about his business.

Then in late January, 1998 Kendall Francois was arrested for assaulting a prostitute. The crime took place on the second floor of 99 Fulton Avenue. At that time , the girl said she was picked up by Kendall Francois on Cannon Street, Poughkeepsie, near South Hamilton. Kendall drove her to his house where he took the girl up to his room on the second floor. They had a dispute over money and Kendall punched her in the face, knocking her down onto the bed. He then got on top of her and began to choke her with his bare hands. She agreed to have sex with him and when he finished, he brought the girl back to Cannon Street.

The victim reluctantly reported the incident to the police and pressed charges against him. Francois was arrested and received the assistance of an attorney. Later, on May 5, he pled guilty to third-degree assault, a misdemeanor, in City Court. He spent a total of 15 days in jail.

More Vanish
On June 12, 1998, Sandra Jean French, 51, disappeared. She was white, 5’, just 120 lbs., hazel eyes and a very slight build. She was reported missing from the small town of Dover, which is about 20 miles east of Poughkeepsie. Her car was found abandoned in the town of Poughkeepsie barely three blocks from the Francois home.

In July, 1998, the Missing Women’s Task Force was formed, consisting of full-time police investigators from the City of Poughkeepsie, Town of Poughkeepsie and New York State Police. The task force was under the command of City of Poughkeepsie's Sgt. Michael Horkan. The task force took up residence in the city’s downtown area at Market and Main Street, not far from the police station. But the existence of the team was not announced nor was it publicized. The formation of this team was an unusual event because task forces such as these are usually assembled after bodies are found and foul play is apparent.

The work load was enormous. Each tip or scrap of information had to be evaluated and acted upon if it was deemed important. Every day detectives studied the teletypes from National Crime Information Center (NCIC). These teletypes originate from every police municipality in the nation and report on every single unidentified body in America 365 days a year. Attempts to match up any of the girls to the reports were fruitless. Many on the investigative team were convinced that the girls were already dead, the victim of some unknown serial killer. Others were not so sure. But the task force was ordered not to talk about any details of the case, an essential point to any successful police investigation. The need for confidentiality is paramount in murder investigations, more so in a multiple homicide. The revelation of some significant detail or the publication of some other aspect of the investigation could alert the killer and wreck the case or, worse, induce the killer to flee. “It’s a possibility that they are linked” State Police Investigator Monte Martin told the press on July 26, 1998, “but we can’t say anything at this point”.

Just one month later on August 26, 1998, Catina Newmaster, 25 years old, vanished. Like almost all the others, she was slight of build, brown hair and was last seen in the same downtown streets of Poughkeepsie. At the police department, pressures to solve the case were enormous. A sudden feeling of urgency descended upon the community. There was real fear on the streets. People were afraid to come outside, especially street dwellers.

“We’re low lifes, that’s what it comes down to. People don’t care that we’re missing because they think we don’t belong on the streets in the first place. It’s not just the police, it’s the community,” a prostitute had told the Journal on July 26, 1998.

But they were wrong; the police were taking it very seriously and had been for nearly 22 months. Thousands of hours of investigative work had already been expended on the case. The City of Poughkeepsie Police, Town of Poughkeepsie, Town of Lloyd, the New York State Police and the F.B.I had all worked together on the investigation, which had grown to epic proportions.
The families of the missing girls were numb from worry. In a prophetic statement to the Albany Times, Patricia Barone, whose daughter had been missing nearly two years, said: “If they find one of them, they’ll find all of them, I’m sure of that.” She didn’t know how right she was.

Of course, she had no way of knowing that not far from the Market Street office, where the members of the task force diligently processed their paperwork every day, a house of horrors awaited them. The home was set on a quiet residential block, in the shadow of famous Vassar College -- a dark, gloomy two-story house virtually across the street from a funeral home. A house that neighbors and children knew well. They saw it every day as they walked to work, parked their cars, rode their bicycles, played on the street. The local mailman and some neighborhood kids, the usual delivery people, they knew it too. Everyone in the neighborhood knew the house well -- because it stunk to high heaven.

The Beginning of the End
On Tuesday, September 1, 1998, at about 8:30 in the morning in the second floor bedroom of this same house, a young woman was quietly being strangled. She was a slightly built woman who had gone there to get paid for sex. The person who was trying to kill her was a very large man, whom she had seen before on the city streets late at night, cruising for girls. He had his huge hands wrapped around her throat, his thumbs pressed deep into her flesh while she fought against him with all the strength God could give her. Somehow, she wriggled free and convinced the man to let her go. He agreed to drive her back to Main Street where he had picked her up only a short time ago. They got into his white car and drove to a local gas station. But just before he pulled into the station, the girl jumped from the car and ran away. The man continued to drive down the street.

At the same moment and less than one block away, Detectives Skip Mannain and . Bob McCready were in their unmarked car preparing to hand out flyers asking the public for help in the Catina Newmaster disappearance.Within seconds, they saw the very large man in his familiar white Camry and waved to him. The man quickly waved back because he recognized Det. Mannain from previous contacts. It was Kendall Francois.

As the officers pulled into the same gas station that Francois just left, a man came up to the car and told the police that a girl, who was now walking away, said that she was just assaulted. Quickly, the cops located the girl, who confirmed the attack. She was brought into the police station where she filed a complaint against Francois.

That same afternoon, the police returned to 99 Fulton Street to talk with Kendall Francois about this most recent attack. They asked him to come into the police department to discuss the report. He agreed and was taken to headquarters. Over the next few hours, Francois eventually made many admissions regarding the disappearance of the women. He was arrested and charged with a single count of murder in the death of Catina Newmaster on August 26, 1998. The police were elated. A search warrant was drawn up and signed. Then, on September 2, 1998, shortly after midnight, a team of detectives, the district attorney, EMS crews, crime scene processors and an army of cops drove over to 99 Fulton Street and entered into the house of horrors.

The House of Horrors
Police knocked on the door and it was soon answered by Kendall’s mother. The officers informed Kendall's parents and sister of the purpose of the visit. They were taken to the Town of Poughkeepsie Police Department while the police began their search. Within the hour, they located the first body. The house was immediately surrounded by police and secured. “We were resolved to preserve the scene at any cost,” said Lt. Siegrist. Rather than work the house throughout the night, the New York State Police decided to process the crime scene beginning at daylight.

99 Fulton was a two-story green colonial home situated in the middle of the block, sandwiched in between two other similar houses. It looked like any other home on the block, although it had a slightly run-down appearance. According to the Town of Poughkeepsie assessor’s office, the house, which was built on less than a quarter acre, sold in 1975 to a McKinley H. and Paulette Francois for $11,500. The neighborhood is average when compared to others in that section of town and many homes in that same area rent to college students.

In the morning, the police, dressed in sterile white suits and wearing anti-putrefaction masks, entered the home. The house was filled with garbage that was strewn everywhere, on the floors, furniture, in the sinks and closets. Clothes were piled on every inch of floor space and sheets were pulled over the windows. One detective remarked in all his years on the job, he had never seen such wretched living conditions. The stench was overpowering, it permeated every room, every corner and seeped out into the street like some toxic cloud.

Within one hour, hundreds of people gathered outside the building. The word had spread that Kendall Francois had been arrested for murder. Dozens of people from the media descended upon the neighborhood. Spotlights and cameras soon lined the street as the police went about their morbid business. Relatives of some of the victims arrived to watch the gruesome story unfold. A woman's body was found in the attic. Then another. And still another. Some spectators ran from the scene, gagging on the oppressive smell of death and garbage.

District Attorney William Grady told the newspapers: “Based on what the suspect told us, the eight bodies are inside that house.” Slowly, in a grim pageant of death, the bodies were removed from the house. The corpses were in various states of decomposition, some far advanced beyond the putrefaction stage. Insect activity was widespread and there were indications of rodent presence. The bodies were located in several different areas of the structure, often covered with clothes or blankets.

The New York Daily News said, “When cops went to the green, aluminum-sided house at 99 Fulton St., they were nearly bowled over by the stench of rotting flesh.” Detectives knew that it would be days before identifications could be made. Estimates of time of death in such cases are difficult, if not impossible, to determine. There is only one rigid rule: the longer period of time between death and the estimate, the more inaccurate the estimate will be.

Also present in the growing crowd on Fulton Avenue was Patricia Barone, mother of Gina Barone, who was reported missing back in December, 1996. Mrs. Barone stood bravely with her family but she was prepared for the worst. “In my head, I’d come to terms with it. I had a feeling she was gone all this time. I always felt that when the good Lord thought I was ready to hear it, I’d hear it,” she told reporters from the N.Y. Times.

Over the next five days, the police investigators continued their search for bodies and evidence. The crowds got bigger, the media was everywhere. Relatives of victims gathered outside and held vigils in remembrance of their loved ones. On September 5, the eighth and last body was removed from the Francois home. By then, the first body found was identified as Catina Newmaster, the last girl to be reported missing. Identifications of Gina Barone, Sandra French and Catherine Marsh quickly followed. A few days later, Wendy Meyers, Kathleen Hurley and Mary Giaccone were also identified.

Police made another gruesome discovery: one body, later identified as Audrey Pugliese, 34, was from New Rochelle, NY; she had not been reported missing. How she came to be inside the house, no one knew. Only the enigmatic Kendall Francois could provide a clue, but he wasn’t talking. Kendall was charged with second-degree murder on the morning of September 2. Represented by an attorney, he would not make any further statements. But he was well known in the city of Poughkeepsie. One prostitute told the Journal, “Most of us knew him. We did crack together.”

"Stinky"
Kendall Francois was born in the city of Poughkeepsie and grew up on Fulton Street. He attended Arlington High School, where the 6’4” teenager played football on the school team until he graduated in 1989. He joined the Army in 1990 and went to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, for basic training. In 1993, Kendall attended class at Dutchess County Community College as a liberal arts major. He continued as a student on and off until 1998.

Although he was not working at the time of his arrest, he did have several jobs in the past. Kendall was employed at the Arlington Middle School from 1996-97, which is a few miles from Fulton Avenue, as a school monitor. Some teachers at the school complained about Kendall’s behavior, especially toward the female students. He often played with the girls in an inappropriate manner, touching their hair and telling sexual jokes. Although he had a clean record at the Middle School, children had a strange name for Kendall. They called him “Stinky.”

During the time span surrounding the disappearances, Kendall Francois lived at home with his mother, father and younger sister, who continue to deny any knowledge of the killings. Many people wondered how the parents could not have known what was going on? Especially Kendall’s mother who was employed as a nurse for many years at the Hudson River Psychiatric Center in Poughkeepsie. Surely at least she should have suspected. But it was reported that Kendall had told his parents a family of raccoons had died in the attic and he was having trouble removing the carcasses. This explanation seemed to suffice. In a statement issued through their attorney, the family had this to say: “We find ourselves plagued by unimaginable circumstances. Our youngest son is suspected of committing grave offenses from which his life hangs in the balance. We have virtually lost everything, been dispossessed of our home and cast into the street with only the clothes on our backs….The family requests that under these extraordinary circumstances, the public and media respect the only two items we have now, our privacy and personal respect”.

Guilty But Alive
On September 4, 1998 , Kendall Francois was indicted in Dutchess County Court for murder in the death of Catina Newmaster. The indictment came as the relentless search for bodies continued at 99 Fulton Avenue. Forensic experts had already been summoned to assist county investigators in the post mortem examinations. Special x-ray devices were utilized at the home to locate bones and other body pieces that may have been hidden inside walls or buried on the property.

In the pouring rain, the search continued. Onlookers in the street huddled underneath umbrellas as the media took up a watch across the street from the Francois home. Some small trees and bushes that were growing in front of the property were cut down by the police and were laying in a pile on the sidewalk. Flower bouquets and other memorabilia from victim’s families and friends sat under a tree near the Francois home. An eerie quiet permeated the scene and even the drenching rain could not wash away the sadness of the crowd at 99 Fulton Avenue. A few blocks away, at the Holy Trinity Church, a memorial service was held for the victims on Tuesday night. The Rev. Richard LaMorte offered comfort to victims' loved ones and police alike, who had been searching the house for a week with no break. He said to the press: “in tragedies like this, you need a religious experience. I realize some of those police are my parishioners.”

The following day, on Wednesday, September 9, 1998, the public got its first look at Kendall Francois as he appeared in Dutchess County Court to enter a plea. Wearing black pants and a white shirt, the big man stood silently before Judge Thomas J. Dolan as a plea of “not guilty” was entered. Kendall showed no emotion and seemed distant from the proceedings.
Some of the spectators became enraged. “He killed my daughter!” the mother of one of the victim’s cried. Others almost had to be removed from the courtroom by officers who struggled to control their emotional outbursts. But when court officers asked some spectators to leave, Judge Dolan permitted all the families to remain.

In his next appearance on October 13, 1998, he was formally charged with eight counts of first-degree murder, eight counts of second-degree murder and one count of attempted assault. In the state of New York, first-degree murder includes serial murder. Upon conviction of this charge, Francois could receive the death penalty. His attorneys were well aware of this and, as a result, on December 23, they attempted to enter a plea of guilty to the murders.

In the state of New York, prosecutors have 120 days from indictment of first-degree murder to decide whether to pursue the death penalty and must then notify the court of that intent. A death penalty in New York can only be imposed by a jury, therefore a defendant who avoids a trial removes the threat of capital punishment. As a result, Francois’ plea of guilty to a Murder 1 indictment, prior to prosecution’s notification to court that they intend to seek the death penalty, spared his life. The very next day, District Attorney Grady announced that his office would seek the death penalty in Francois’ case. However, the status of Francois’ guilty plea was unclear.

On February 11, 1999 the matter was decided in Dutchess County Court when Judge Dolan ruled that the death penalty law, in the way it currently applies, does not permit a plea of guilty prior to prosecution’s filing of a death penalty case. The defense team appealed the decision and the matter headed over to the State Court of Appeals, one of the most liberal minded courts in the nation. The case was heard on March 31, 2000. At issue was the crucial question of whether Kendall Francois, and other future murder suspects who face execution, will be able to avoid the death penalty, ironically, by admitting to their crimes. The Appeals Court ruled that a defendant may not plea prior to the D.A.'s filing notice of a death penalty case.

On the morning of August 7, 2000, the Dutchess County courthouse was packed with spectators, friends and family members of the murder victims. They sat for hours, their grief and anger steadily building for what was to come. Then, at 1:10 p.m., a sudden hush fell over the room. A side door opened and Kendall Francois, his huge six-foot-four frame towering over the deputies, was led into the court. He had on a dark blue button-down shirt, black pants and wore thin, wire frame glasses. A few people cursed at him as he sat in his seat and stared straight ahead.

As arranged through the District Attorney's Office and the defense team, Kendall Francois was sentenced to life in prison without parole for the killing of eight women. He could be confined to his cell for as much as 23 hours a day. The families of the victims were allowed to make statements to the court as Francois sat in his chair. At times, their rage and tears overwhelmed the court. "You took the child I had waited so many years for," said Marguerite Marsh, mother of victim Catherine Marsh. "You are a cold-blooded killer, Francois!" said an aunt of another victim.

Francois declined to make any statement but said through his attorney: "He is deeply sorry for his actions." He was led slowly out of the court in chains as some spectators continued to curse him. On August 10, 2000, Francois was processed into New York's toughest prison, Attica, where he remains today, inmate #A4160.

The ending to the story of Kendall Francois and “los desaparecidos” has been written. However, for one family, the saga continues. Michelle Eason, the only African American among the missing, has not been found. As of May, 2000, she was still missing. “Although I believed that she was a part of this in the beginning, I don’t believe it anymore” Lt. Siegrist recently said, “All the girls involved in the Francois case were white and were found inside Francois’ home.” There are no new leads in her case. As in all missing persons incidents, however, there are many possibilities. But up to now, her disappearance remains a total mystery.

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