A story from Retired Officer Don Heyfron

Don Heyfron recounted the following to me a few years back—a fractional glimpse into the experiences of  a 30-year veteran. Recently I  took out the case file, read through it, and found Heyfron’s recollection to be amazingly accurate.

It was 1981.

Tracy Boles was eager to move into her new place. It was only a room in a house, but the move seemed filled with promise: change, new roommates, and a fresh start to a new year. She pulled up in front of her new home and nearly ran to the door in anticipation.

Nancy Briggs heard the knock at the door. She stood frozen over the body of her dead boyfriend. Gun smoke still lingered in the room. A large pool of blood spread outward on the hardwood floor from David Leslie’s body.

She had forgotten about the new roommate he'd announced earlier—that she’d be arriving in the morning to move into the spare bedroom in back. She froze and waited quietly, hoping the visitor would leave. Just when she assumed the unwanted guest would have left, the two came face to face at a side window, where Tracy had walked to see if anyone might be home. Nancy pointed at the front door, indicating that Tracy should come back around to the front. Tracy’s smile slipped quickly into an expression of fear as the woman who opened the door shoved a chrome .357 magnum into her face. "Don’t say a word."

As the door slammed behind her, all Tracy could see was the barrel of a revolver pointing at her eyes. Her mouth began to move and she heard herself ask, "Is David here?"

The grin on the other woman’s face was not reassuring. She pointed the gun down the hall and said, "Yeah. Oh yeah, he’s here … Let’s go see him."

Tracy Boles had never seen a dead person before. The figure on the floor appeared to be the same person who had taken her application and accepted her check the day before, but now he looked oddly different. He had had a pleasant voice and seemed genuinely happy to have her as a roommate. He had mentioned his girlfriend and said he thought they'd like each other.

Tracy looked over at the woman with the gun and found the courage to ask what had happened.

"He accused me of doing too many drugs … that’s a laugh! He was just as stretched out on the powder as me. I ain’t no coke whore either. I’m Nancy Briggs and I’m as good as anyone else. He told me when you showed up all the drugs had to stop or he’d ‘fix’ me …  I got his gun and fixed him instead.” Nancy’s smile was chilling.

Tracy looked down at the still figure and knew she had to think fast and be smart in order to outwit the drugged murderer holding the gun on her. "We should call the police," Tracy said.

"I know, I know," Nancy responded, "but just now I can’t think, I can’t slow down. I think we’ll wait till dark and then move him into the trunk of my car and then we’ll go bury him. Yeah, that’s it, we’ll bury him. And you’re gonna help me or I’ll kill you too."

The two women waited for hours until dark. The talk was mostly about David. Nancy rambled through their life together, recounting all the evil things he had done. When she found herself turning to talking about the good times, she broke down and aimed the gun at herself, saying she should just end it all here. Tracy instinctively listened and pretended that she understood every one of the wide-ranging emotions Nancy expressed. She kept a wary eye on the gun in Nancy’s hand.

The roller coaster ride ended when suddenly they both heard a noise outside that sounded like footsteps. Tracy whispered to Nancy, "There’s someone out there. It’s a prowler."

Tracy knew this was her chance. She knew the other woman was paranoid and high on drugs. She also knew that if she accompanied Nancy to bury the body, she probably wouldn’t ever return.

"There! There is someone out there!" Tracy pretended that she saw someone. She began whispering and pointing; she decided it was time to go for broke. She dashed to the phone, dialed 911, and told the dispatcher that there was a prowler and to send the police—quickly! Nancy watched her on the phone and didn’t say a word. She kept looking and listening for the "prowler" outside the window.

*   *   *

Heyfron, responding to the call, was taken by surprise by the two women who exited the house. Ordinarily the last thing people want to do when there's a prowler about is to leave the safety of their home. Ed Follows, Heyfron’s backup, arrived at nearly the same time.

Tracy recognized Follows right away. They both rode horses and had on occasion chatted with each other. Follows' big smile vanished when he saw the look on Tracy’s face. While they were not close friends, he’d talked with her enough and spent enough time with her to know something was very wrong. Tracy was always upbeat and never without a smile. Follows couldn’t help but notice the difference in her.

He gave Heyfron a nod and Heyfron knew right away to heighten his officer safety senses. The other woman was trying her best to calm the officers' suspicions, saying that everything was all right now, no need for the police. She began pulling on Tracy’s arm. But Tracy had no intention of letting Follows go. When Nancy began ordering Tracy to let go and started pulling more vigorously on her arm, Heyfron stepped between them and separated the two. Suddenly Nancy Briggs broke for the door.

Tracy immediately screamed, "She killed her boyfriend! She has a gun in the house!"

Heyfron barely caught Nancy before she reached the door. She struggled violently. The drugs had boosted her strength. Heyfron finally was able to cuff her. Tracy, in the meantime, was telling Follows the whole story.

Heyfron called a warning into the house: "Police!" He entered with his gun drawn. One by one, he turned on the lights in each room. When he turned on the light in David Leslie’s room, he was doubly surprised. He knew the face. Indeed, he knew the victim. They had gone through high school together, but had lost touch after graduation. He reached down and checked for signs of life. Feeling no pulse, his impulse was to cover David's body, to clean him up.  But it was a crime scene—he would have to leave everything exactly as it was.

Case closed.

Note:  A records check on Nancy Briggs revealed an assortmant of past crimes, not the least of which were burglary, theft and a variety of drug-related arrests.  Oh, and she had already served time for homicide!