Original subtitles

NARRATOR: This program is about unsolved mysteries.

Whenever possible, the actual family members

and police officials have participated

in recreating the events.

What you are about to see is not a news broadcast.

ROBERT STACK: The Ouija board--

to some an entertaining parlor game; to others,

a strange and wondrous instrument,

able to bridge the gap between the living and the dead.

It may sound unbelievable, but tonight we'll

bring you the remarkable case of Pearl Curran, who claimed

that through the Ouija board, she

became the earthly conduit for a literary spirit named

Patience Worth.

September, 1993-- a motel manager

reports an abandoned car in his parking lot.

The vehicle belongs to Justin Burgwinkel,

an Army enlisted man who had apparently

gone AWOL three months earlier.

To Justin's parents, the discovery

was the latest twist in a dark scenario that may

have led to their son's death.

At first, it seemed like a routine drug case--

a few grams of cocaine smuggled across state lines

in a box of clothes.

But then a fistful of suspicious $100 bills

put investigators on the trail of a king's ransom

in bogus C-notes.

Now authorities need your help to capture

one of the most prolific counterfeiters in history.

Join me.

Perhaps you hold the key.

Perhaps you may be able to help solve a mystery.

[music playing]

ROBERT STACK: The Ouija board--

modern face of a timeless instrument,

revered for nearly 3,000 years as a method

to predict the future and contact

the spirits of the dead.

For all its alleged powers, the Ouija is disarmingly simple--

nothing more than a flat piece of wood

adorned with letters and numbers.

Hands resting lightly on a pointer,

one of the participants asks a question.

Supposedly, the indicator will move of its own accord

and spell out an answer.

The Ouija board first became popular in the United States

during the 1890s, when it was marketed

as a provocative parlor game.

A century later, the board is still a best seller

and still handing out answers that push the limits

of scientific explanation.

Consider the case of Gaynell Rawley of Dunkirk, New York.

Some years ago, Gaynell was musing about a trip to Scotland

when she playfully asked the Ouija board for more details.

Gaynell's husband looked on from the kitchen.

I wonder who I'm going to go to Scotland with, who I'm

going to cross the border with?

I didn't really ask the Ouija board that.

I just said it, kind of sarcastic--

who's going to be with me when I go across the border?

That's what I'd like to know.

Whoa, whoa!

ROBERT STACK: Gaynell says that without hesitation,

the pointer began to move.

O N--

ROBERT STACK: Soon the baffling answer was complete--

J. D. MacDonald.

The Rawleys did not know a single person

with that last name.

Well, J.D. MacDonald.

Fun now, huh?

ROBERT STACK: Six months later, the Rawleys

were steaming across England, headed for the Scottish border.

They got the shock of a lifetime when

they were approached by a fellow passenger, a stranger.

Hi, I'm J.D. MacDonald.

I'm from Sydney, Australia.

GAYNELL RAWLEY: The minute she said it,

I remembered the Ouija board saying it.

Yeah, I'm Gay Rawley.

It stunned me so that I started to kind of laugh,

and I must have acted a little strange, because the woman

kind of pulled back, startled.

Oh, New York.

Oh, of course.

ROBERT STACK: J. D. MacDonald.

The Rawleys continue to wonder if their startling encounter

was simply a coincidence or proof positive that the Ouija

board has supernatural powers.

The Rawley's experience, though hardly earthshaking,

is nonetheless a fitting introduction

to the most remarkable Ouija episode of all time.

Beginning in 1913 and continuing for several years,

the lively spirit of a 17th century English woman

named Patience Worth reportedly spoke through the board

from beyond the grave.

And by all accounts, Patience wasn't

content with a simple hello.

She composed plays, novels, and countless poems, an astounding

body of work filling some 30 volumes that

has yet to be fully explained.

The unlikely recipient of these unworldly contacts

was Pearl Curran, wife of a prosperous St. Louis,

Missouri, businessman.

Until Patience came calling, Pearl apparently

had no interest in the occult--

no creative activities beyond a love of music.

Pearl Curran had a very close friend

named Emily Grant Hutchings, who was

a very active freelance writer.

Mrs. Hutchings became interested in spiritualism

and the Ouija board.

She persuaded Pearl Curran to take part in some experiments

with the Ouija board around 1912.

As far as we know, Mrs. Curran was very reluctant.

Emily, I think you've gotten carried

away with this Ouija board.

I really do.

I haven't.

It's like ether, the gasses--

ROBERT STACK: Once a week for nearly a year,

Pearl gamely played along to humor her friend.

However, the Ouija produced little more than gibberish.

Emily, what book have you been reading?

ROBERT STACK: On many evenings, Pearl's mother

joined the session, notebook in hand, just in case.

M A N--

ROBERT STACK: On July 8, 1913, the women

had barely taken their places when the pointer suddenly

began whipping across the board, selecting

letters in a dizzying rush.

I L I--

ROBERT STACK: To the amazement of all present,

the letters formed words; the words, a sentence.

Many moons ago, I lived.

Again, I come.

Patience Worth, my name.

Oh!

It's a message.

Patience?

That's a Quaker name.

ROBERT STACK: It was a modest beginning.

But soon the women truly began to believe

that the spirit of Patience Worth, a young Englishwoman

dead some 250 years, was reaching

out through the Ouija board.

S C R--

ROBERT STACK: Over the next few months,

Patience began to dictate literary works

in an archaic style, sprinkled with words

like "thee" and "thou."

O N S--

IRVING LITVAG: Well, the language of Patience Worth

was one of the many, many baffling things in this case.

It apparently was an amalgam or a melange

of words from many different times in English history.

And Patience was often asked, why do you speak

in such difficult language?

And her answer, in effect, was, I do this

because if I spoke in a simpler way

you would assume it was Mrs. Curran speaking.

And it's not Mrs. Curran speaking.

It's Patience Worth speaking.

ROBERT STACK: And Patience was speaking volumes.

I L--

ROBERT STACK: By 1915, when Pearl's husband John assumed

the job of transcribing the sessions,

Patience was dictating for hours on end, producing from 500

to 3,000 words at a sitting.

John!

Oh, Mr. Reedy, I'm just so glad you came.

ROBERT STACK: Friends and curiosity seekers

flocked to St. Louis to witness the astounding creation

of poems, plays, and novels.

Mr. Reedy, this is my wife, Pearl.

How do you do?

ROBERT STACK: One of those who came to see the spectacle

for himself was William M. Reedy, publisher

of a respected literary journal.

Oh, I don't believe in this sort of thing.

It is rather amazing.

This is the Ouija board.

Um-hmm.

Patience, would you like to greet Mr. Reedy?

A--

ROBERT STACK: Patience replied with

characteristic irreverence, roughly translated--

Hello, Mr. Fat and Wide.

E.

Fat and wide?

She doesn't mean anything.

She just does nonsense sometimes.

She certainly does.

Mr. Reedy, how would you like to join in and ask

Patience a question yourself?

Do you suppose Patience would continue her work on the novel

if I have my hands on it?

Why don't we see?

Well--

ROBERT STACK: By the end of the session,

William Reedy was enchanted.

Yes.

Yes!

ROBERT STACK: His enthusiastic articles helped propel the case

to international prominence.

Reedy never was willing to admit that Patience

Worth was indeed a spirit.

He never would go that far.

But what he did proclaim, and he proclaimed it again and again

in his journal, was the literary merit of the writings

of Patience Worth.

In fact, he said that these were extremely, extremely

remarkable writings, almost unparalleled

in literary history.

ROBERT STACK: The praise continued

when Patience completed a full-length novel, "The Sorry

Tale."

Despite its mysterious origins, the book

was snapped up by publishing giant Henry Holt & Company.

IRVING LITVAG: "The Sorry Tale" was a novel about Palestine

at the time of Jesus.

A leading historian in St. Louis reviewed "The Sorry Tale"

and he said, unquestionably, this

is the greatest book about Jesus written since the gospels.

Now, for a distinguished historian

to write something of this kind was almost unheard of,

because he was putting his career on the line

by taking this position about the writings of someone

purporting to be a spirit.

Patience Worth was a spirit from the 16th century

as far as Pearl Curran is concerned.

ROBERT STACK: Stoker Hunt, author of "Ouija,

the Most Dangerous Game."

--probably the best documented case of Ouija

work in the Western world.

She did-- she produced masterpiece after masterpiece--

hailed at the time as masterpieces.

Her poetry was published in very sophisticated

books, magazines of poetry.

ROBERT STACK: Indeed, the "New York Times"

gave "The Sorry Tale" a rousing review, saying it was written

with, quote, "the precision and the accuracy of a master hand."

However, the acclaim was not universal.

Some skeptics accused Pearl Curran of fraud.

They charged that she would memorize stories all day, then

at the sessions pass off the information

as coming from Patience Worth.

IRVING LITVAG: The investigators,

and there were a number of them who really looked into the case

very carefully, found that there was

just no truth in these stories.

Everybody agreed that Pearl Curran

lived the average, typical life of a housewife during the day.

She would clean her house.

She would go grocery shopping.

She was not poring over books all day.

ROBERT STACK: A different theory was advanced

by the scientific community.

Perhaps Patience Worth and her writings

were creations of Pearl Curran's subconscious mind.

IRVING LITVAG: Pearl Curran came from working-class parents.

Her father was a railroad man.

She quit school at the age of 13 and, apparently,

neither before nor after that ever evinced

any particular interest in reading or literature

or anything of that kind.

All of a sudden this provincial St. Louis housewife

had a separate personality that was capable of writing works

that the "New York Times" labeled the works of a genius?

I just don't see how science can so readily

explain this phenomenon away.

ROBERT STACK: The books and poems, incredible

as they seemed, were overshadowed

by yet another facet of this astonishing case.

The Currans, childless after nine years of marriage,

finally decided to adopt at the persistent urging of none

other than Patience Worth.

In August of 1960, Pearl and John made arrangements

with a widow who was unable to care

for the baby she was expecting, a baby Patience

predicted would be a girl.

For many, the episode would provide

convincing evidence that supernatural powers

were at work.

N O--

IRVING LITVAG: One evening, Patience

was busily dictating when precisely at 8:00 PM,

she suddenly stopped.

And she said in her own words, "This is enough.

How can I go on weaving"-- which is

what she called her writing--

"when something of this importance is happening?"

And she refused to continue.

John, I'm suddenly feeling very faint.

Come, darling, let me take you upstairs.

ROBERT STACK: Later that evening, the Currans

received electrifying news.

The child they planned to adopt was born at 8 PM--

born at precisely the moment Patience had interrupted

her Ouija dictation.

Just as Patience had foretold, the infant

turned out to be a girl.

It was the first of several uncanny coincidences

noted by the Currans.

IRVING LITVAG: They further found,

after visiting the child, that the baby

had red hair and brown eyes--

the exact coloration that Patience Worth

often had claimed for herself.

They also found out that the mother of the child

had ancestry that was English-Scotch,

and this was the very same ancestry that Patience

Worth had claimed for herself.

We're going to call her Patience--

Patience Worth Curran.

ROBERT STACK: For most spirits this would have

been accomplishment enough.

However, Patience Worth continued to dictate

through the Ouija board.

And a second novel, entitled "Hope Trueblood,"

hit the stores in 1918.

The communication between Pearl and Patience

continued unabated for another 19 years.

Pearl's husband, John, transcribed the sessions

until his death in 1922.

In 1930, at the urging of a close friend,

Pearl moved from St. Louis to Los Angeles.

In November of 1937 the legacy of Patience Worth

drew to a close with a disquieting prediction.

Patience has shown me the end of the road.

So it's time for you to carry on as best you can.

I'm a bit tired.

And I think I'm going to go in.

ROBERT STACK: Pearl Curran was apparently healthy

when she uttered those words.

Inexplicably, she fell ill within two weeks.

Within another week she was dead.

The voice of Patience Worth had been stilled.

Over the course of 24 years, Patience Worth

dictated some 4 million words.

Her poetry appeared in respected journals.

Her novels basked in critical acclaim.

But was Patience Worth really a ghost who communicated

through Pearl Curran?

Perhaps the best answer came from Patience herself.

After relentless questioning by a skeptic,

Patience shot back a challenge-- essentially,

if you're so sure this is a trick, let's see you do it.

Next, join the hunt for a master counterfeiter

who printed up millions in bogus bills.

Day in and day out, it is a never-ending battle

along thousands of miles of border

at dozens of checkpoints.

Customs agents face long odds trying

to choke off the stream of drugs flooding

the United States from Mexico.

But every now and then, officials

get an unexpected break.

In January of 1995, an alert shipping clerk

in the border town of Brownsville, Texas,

tipped off authorities to suspected narcotics activity.

Investigators jumped on the lead.

They never dreamed that their routine drug case would

take a surprising twist, and blow

the cover of a master counterfeiter

who was literally making millions.

It all started when a man named John

Vogel sent a package to his business address in Minnesota.

What are you shipping today?

What do you mean?

What's inside the box?

Well, what did I put down on the form?

You wrote down "clothes."

Yeah, that's right--

clothes.

And it's going to Minnesota?

Yeah.

CHRISTOPHER KAWATERS: The clerk was suspicious with Vogel's

answers to the questions.

Being that it's on a border town and being cognizant drugs do

originate out of Mexico into the United States,

she contacted US customs officials.

One, two, three, four-- there you go.

Customs officials arranged for a drug-sniffing dog to come in.

The dog alerted or hit on the package

for the presence of narcotics.

Customs officials then arranged for the package

to be forwarded on to Minnesota.

Let's see what we got here.

ROBERT STACK: Local police and customs

agents were waiting for the parcel

when it arrived in Minnesota.

A search warrant allowed them to inspect the contents.

If I was a betting man--

CHRISTOPHER KAWATERS: Inside the package

they found various pieces of men's

clothing, and also two aerosol containers with fake bottoms.

Bingo.

CHRISTOPHER KAWATERS: Inside the containers

were about four grams of cocaine and 38 $100 bills

and several strips of test print that's

used in counterfeit that reflects a Treasury

seal and serial numbers.

ROBERT STACK: A four-gram cocaine

bust is not even a pistol shot in the war on drugs.

This is bogus.

ROBERT STACK: But authorities had stumbled upon what

would prove to be one of the biggest counterfeit

operations on record.

Investigators quickly traced the identity of the man

who had sent the package.

His name was John Bryson Vogel, and he

was no stranger to the law.

Vogel had served time for armed bank

robbery, captured only after a violent high-speed chase.

Since his parole in 1991, he had operated

a small printing business just outside Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Federal investigators put Vogel's cocaine and counterfeit

bills back inside his package.

Then the parcel was taken to Vogel's business,

special delivery, courtesy of an undercover Secret

Service agent.

Moments after the delivery, Vogel had unexpected visitors.

Are you John Vogel?

Yes.

Federal agents.

We have a search warrant to search your premises.

Got the package.

Mr. Vogel, you're under arrest.

CHRISTOPHER KAWATERS: Officials found approximately $50,000

in counterfeit money.

Some of the counterfeit looked like it

had just recently been printed.

It was drying, open, on various workbenches in the shop.

Vogel's counterfeit was described

as very good or excellent.

He used various colors of ink on the bills,

as well as some of the colored threads

that are put into the bills for authenticity.

Officials also searched a storage

locker Vogel had rented.

In that locker, they found 196,114 counterfeit $100 bills.

Holy Moses.

ROBERT STACK: John Vogel was indeed a self-made millionaire.

The bogus C-notes added up to an eye-popping $19,611,000,

the fourth-largest haul in United States history.

Vogel had been printing the bills since shortly

after his release from prison.

CHRISTOPHER KAWATERS: Vogel had served time

for a 1986 armed bank robbery.

While he was incarcerated, he was assigned

to the printing industry.

There it's believed he learned the counterfeiting

trade from another inmate.

ROBERT STACK: Authorities nabbed Vogel just in time.

Though he had pressed millions in phony bills,

he had circulated less than $50,000 worth.

Authorities learned that Vogel had logged thousands of miles

crisscrossing America and spending his phony $100 bills

one by one.

By the time he was arrested, Vogel's handiwork

had surfaced in nearly half the states in the country.

On January 17, 1995, Vogel was released on

a personal recognisance bond.

He promptly disappeared and has not been seen since.

[music playing]

ROBERT STACK: Next, the strange case of Justin Burgwinkel.

Did he run away from the Army, or did a secret operation

lead to his death?

[music playing]

ROBERT STACK: Justin Burgwinkel, Specialist, United States Army.

He reported for duty in the summer of 1990.

In the summer of 1993 he went AWOL, absent without leave,

and inexplicably disappeared.

Three months later Justin's car was

found gathering dust in the parking

lot of a remote northern California motel.

The discovery proved to be one more indecipherable clue, one

more dead end that left Justin's family anxiously

waiting and wondering.

Now I don't know if he ran away from the Army.

I don't know if he was kidnapped.

I don't know if he was murdered.

I do not have one clue what happened to him.

Specialist Justin Burgwinkel was respected by his superiors,

well-liked by his fellow soldiers,

and by all accounts, simply not the type to suddenly go AWOL.

However, on several occasions, Justin himself

hinted at a secret life of undercover operations.

At the time it seemed as if he was

staging cloak-and-dagger theatrics

to impress his friends.

But today, those closest to Justin

believe the key to his disappearance

may lie somewhere in a shadowy world

of intrigue and deception.

When he enlisted, Justin Burgwinkel

set his sights on an elite combat

unit known as the Rangers.

He scored high on Army tests and began

language training in Korean.

However, within six months Justin

was yanked from the prestigious program

after he was implicated in a shoplifting incident.

--go down there when I was back in language school, man.

ROBERT STACK: Ultimately, Justin was transferred to Fort

Ord near Monterey, California.

There, the would-be language specialist

found himself assigned to kitchen duty,

serving up meals to some 1,000 soldiers.

That's the next hot spot.

They're going to have nuclear weapons.

He had wanted to go in and be a Ranger, and of course part

of being a Ranger is going through the language school.

When they took him out of there and put him

in the cooks section, he really had a hard time

dealing with that at first.

But then he kind of refocused himself and said,

well, you know, if I want to be a Ranger,

I'm going to have to get back in there

and really soldier to get back there.

ROBERT STACK: Like many of his fellow soldiers,

Justin frequented area nightclubs on the weekend.

In August of 1992, he met Iolanda

Antunes, a computer science student

at Santa Clara University.

Where do you want to go?

I know a good 24-hour place down the street.

OK.

IOLANDA ANTUNES: There was a rapport there.

And he asked me for my phone number, and I gave it to him.

And then one weekend, he showed up at my door, picked me up.

We went to San Francisco, and that's when it started.

We spent a whole day in San Francisco, and we knew.

I knew that he was a great guy.

ROBERT STACK: Iolanda lived here, in Santa Clara,

south of San Francisco.

Fort Ord was 85 miles down the coast, near Monterey.

Before long, Justin was visiting Iolanda at every opportunity.

During the subsequent months, she

began to see the first signs of Justin's secretive life.

Citing urgent business, he would interrupt his stay

to shuttle back and forth between Iolanda's

apartment and Monterey.

All of a sudden, he would just stop what he was

doing with me in the afternoon.

And he would just say, I'm sorry,

but I have to go up to Monterey and see some people.

But I'll be right back.

And I'll be just saying, just like that, out of the blue?

And he said, just don't ask me what it's about.

I'll just return. - Bye.

See you at 4.

IOLANDA ANTUNES: And that started kind of bothering me,

because we would have a good day and all of sudden, he'll leave.

And then he started getting more vague--

I can't tell you.

I really can't discuss this with you right now.

It's not right for you to know.

And later on it became more like,

it just won't be a good thing for you to know.

It won't be-- you know, just, I'm

doing something kind of secret and I can't reveal it to you.

ROBERT STACK: In February of 1983,

Justin was transferred from Fort Ord

to Fort Lewis near Tacoma, Washington.

It wasn't until May, some 10 weeks later,

that Justin made the trip south to spend a two-week furlough

with Iolanda.

She recalls the visit as a jumble of baffling

incidents and odd behavior.

Justin always had a briefcase with him.

But I didn't think much of it, because a briefcase

is a briefcase.

Can't make much about a briefcase--

except he would be very secretive about it.

He would never open it in front of me.

Can you stay turned around?

Don't you want me to leave the room?

No, no, just please stay turned around.

IOLANDA ANTUNES: There was this one time.

And I kind of angled myself just to turn

and look over my shoulder to see what he was doing.

All he's doing with that briefcase

is taking pieces of paper--

taking pieces of paper out and shredding them with his hands,

just tearing them into little tiny, tiny pieces.

I mean, into little squares this small.

ROBERT STACK: Whatever Justin was involved in

seemed to be veering out of control.

Iolanda says that one day she found Justin alone

in the living room, sobbing.

Justin?

Justin, what's wrong?

Nothing.

You OK?

No-- yeah, I'm fine.

ROBERT STACK: Justin never clarified the incident.

And it was soon eclipsed by a more mysterious episode.

[phone rings]

ROBERT STACK: It happened on a night

when Justin was out with friends.

Hello?

(ON PHONE): Is Burgwinkel there?

Justin?

No, he's not. Who's this?

(ON PHONE): Don't worry about it.

Can you give him a message?

OK.

- (ON PHONE): The mission's off. - What?

(ON PHONE): Just tell him-- the mission's off.

The mission's off.

(ON PHONE): That's right.

Justin came back.

I woke up, because I heard him.

And he looked completely pale, completely frightened.

Hi.

Hi, Justin.

Justin, you had a phone call tonight.

Here?

Yeah.

Some guy called and said that the mission's off?

What mission?

Damn it!

Damn it!

Justin!

What time did they call?

- I think it was around 9:30. - Who was it?

What did they say their name was?

They didn't give a name.

They just said, tell him that the mission's off.

And they just hung up.

Damn it!

Damn it!

Justin, who are "they"?

Who are these people?

ROBERT STACK: Justin refused to discuss the call

or explain the message.

Iolanda was still in the dark a few days later

when Justin packed his bags and headed back to Fort Lewis.

I'm going to go down and see her.

Next weekend, I'm going to drive down.

ROBERT STACK: During his first week back at the base,

Justin called his parents and sounded

perfectly normal and upbeat.

I'm doing good.

How about you guys?

ROBERT STACK: However, at around the same time, for reasons that

remain obscure, Justin purchased two handguns and more

than 100 rounds of ammunition.

Friday, July 4, 1993, 04:30 hours.

Private Justin Burgwinkel failed to report for kitchen duty

at Fort Lewis.

The dining facility should have

reported him as being absent Friday when he didn't show up.

Because he was a good soldier--

he'd never been in trouble before that--

they kind of tried to protect him

and say, well, we'll find out where he is and deal with it

ourselves instead of turning him in.

Anybody seen Burgwinkel?

CHRISTOPHER KAWATERS: Monday morning they

realized that they couldn't protect

him any longer, because it had been a long time.

And they suspected that, you know,

something out of the ordinary was going on.

Yeah, Captain Heinzelman?

Yeah, this is the duty sergeant in the mess hall.

Got an AWOL, sir. It looks like--

ROBERT STACK: For a man who had apparently gone AWOL,

Justin was not making much of an effort to hide.

In fact, he had been at Iolanda's

since late Friday night.

Justin, what are you doing here?

Well, I came to see you.

- What time is it? - It's about 3:00.

Aren't you glad to see me?

It's 3:00 o'clock in the morning?

I don't know how he could get more time off.

But I thought, well, if he was able to, that's really great.

And I did want to see him.

ROBERT STACK: Iolanda soon learned that Justin

was not exactly on vacation.

She insisted that he call his parents.

Don't worry, all right?

I'll figure it out.

No, I'm not AWOL.

I wouldn't do anything like that.

Right, no-- I'm going to call Heinzelman.

That's a mistake.

I'm going to figure that out.

I'm working.

Yes, I'm working.

And I said, well, what do you mean, you're working?

And he just said, I can't tell you any more.

He said, but I will straighten it out.

I'll have to explain it all later, and I will, OK?

I just can't.

I'm doing something very important right now, all right?

You've got to believe me.

And I'll explain it to you later.

I said to him, at least call Captain Heinzelman.

You know, at least call him.

And he said that he would.

Justin did call into the unit.

He did indicate that he was going to come back,

and that he had a couple of more things to do.

Once he got them taken care of, that he was going to come back

to the unit and report back in.

Don't go.

ROBERT STACK: But Justin did not report in.

Instead, he remained at Iolanda's and continued his

mysterious trips to Monterey.

What's going on?

Let me help you.

There's nothing you can do to help me, OK?

Then let me go with you.

Don't make me do this right now.

Justin, please.

No.

Look, I have to go, OK?

Justin?

What are you--

All right, all right, all right.

What are you getting yourself into?

You know the movie "White Sands?"

Watch that movie, OK?

ROBERT STACK: In a conversation with his parents,

Justin had made the same cryptic reference

to the film "White Sands."

Released in 1992, the movie plunges its viewers

and its briefcase-toting hero into the duplicitous world of

international arms smuggling.

It's about gun-running, the FBI, and the CIA.

And this one's against this one.

And you don't know who the good guy is,

and you don't know who the bad guy is.

You know, then I thought, are you working for the CIA?

You know-- it was all too confusing.

But that's the only clue, if anything, that he's

ever given me about it.

See you later.

ROBERT STACK: Saturday, June 12.

Justin left Iolanda's apartment at around 10:00 AM,

once again headed for Monterey.

But this time Justin Burgwinkel would not come back.

The next couple of months, I was on the phone with the Army,

my senators--

you know, anyone I could think of to call to try to get

the Army to do something.

Well, I couldn't get anybody to help me.

The police wouldn't go to the girlfriend's house.

I mean, nobody would do anything.

Nobody ever looked for him, ever.

ROBERT STACK: The windswept outskirts of Monterey

yielded one final clue in this puzzling case.

Three months after Justin vanished,

his car was found in the parking lot

of an isolated beachfront motel.

The Burgwinkels flew in from Massachusetts to investigate.

They learned that their son's name did not

appear in the motel register, although the car

had been in the parking lot for nearly three months.

The manager assumed it had been left

by a guest for later pickup.

Something in it.

ROBERT STACK: Justin's handguns were nowhere to be found.

Wallet.

ROBERT STACK: But his briefcase had been stashed in the trunk.

There's the keys.

ROBERT STACK: Curiously, his car keys

were locked inside, along with his wallet,

credit cards, and military ID.

His military ID is here.

You knew something was drastically wrong.

And you knew, like, more or less,

that he had placed everything just the way

he wanted it found.

That's the way I look at it.

[inaudible]

ROBERT STACK: Tucked in Justin's wallet

was a standard-issue military dog tag.

Dog tag.

ROBERT STACK: When Iolanda learned of that discovery,

she recalled a chilling conversation.

We were driving down one time in his car,

and Justin had his dog tags.

And he said, do you know what they're for?

I kind of had an idea, but I just said, no, no.

What are they for?

And he says, well, when a soldier dies,

they put it in his teeth so you can identify him.

I said, OK.

He says, well, if you ever see these, you know, lying around,

you know, that means I'm dead.

ROBERT STACK: Is Justin Burgwinkel dead,

swallowed up by a murky secret life?

Or did he simply run away and cover his disappearance

with an elaborate fantasy plucked from a Hollywood movie?

I really don't think it's possible that he ran away.

The three things he loved-- he loved his mother,

he loved his girlfriend deeply, and he loved his car.

And that day, he just threw everything away.

Everything was gone.

I just can't believe anybody could do that

without any trace or anything.

Justin was not the type of person that would go AWOL.

Very reliable, dependable.

You could always count on him to get the job done.

So him going AWOL surprised everybody that I knew.

It just-- it just didn't happen with him.

I'd like to believe he's still alive.

I don't like to think he's dead.

But if he was, I wish I could find out.

And then I could at least bury him and put it to rest,

because the not knowing--

that's about the worst thing that I can imagine,

is not knowing what happened to him.

ROBERT STACK: In a moment, murder

invades a small town when an unknown hitchhiker

turns violent.

[music playing]

ROBERT STACK: It was around midnight, June 22,

1991, in Harrington, Delaware.

Cup of coffee, black.

ROBERT STACK: A factory worker named

Charles Holden stopped by a fast-food restaurant

at the end of his shift.

It was a typical night for Charles

until he left the restaurant.

I went in and got my hamburger.

And I was on my way across the lot, and got in my truck,

started my truck.

And as I proceeded to get ready to back up,

I noticed there was a man right at my passenger window.

Hey, man, I wonder if I could get a ride?

Uh, well, I don't know.

It's pretty late.

Hey, but I'm, like, in a big-time bind, man.

My sister, she's had a baby.

She's up in Georgetown.

I got to get there.

I-- I-- I live very close by.

ROBERT STACK: In the end, Charles relented.

Harrington was a small town, mostly friendly.

All right.

ROBERT STACK: Charles assumed he had nothing to worry about.

Three miles down Highway 14, Charles

reached the intersection where he normally turned to go home.

CHARLES HOLDEN: Yeah, I pulled off to the side, and I said,

this is as far as we go, right here.

I guess this is where you have to get off.

Hey, man, I got to get down the road.

I ain't getting out of this truck.

I-- I can't go any further.

I told you I could just go a few miles, you know.

Listen, I got a problem, and I ain't

getting out of this truck.

Well, I can't help you.

I can't-- you're going to have to leave, I'm sorry.

No, then I'm going to have to take this truck!

Hey, hey!

ROBERT STACK: Without warning, the stranger attacked.

Charles grabbed his keys and jumped from the truck.

CHARLES HOLDEN: He come after me with a-- a knife

or a screwdriver.

What you looking in there for?

Ain't nobody going to help you.

No, this has all been taken care of.

I'm going to kill you.

I'm going to tell you right here--

I want that truck! - All right, all right.

I'll take you wherever you want to go, man.

Just calm down, all right? - I ain't playing with you.

I want that truck!

Come on, come on, we'll go.

I'll take you over there.

Come on.

ROBERT STACK: Charles knew he had to act fast.

As he and the assailant headed back to the truck,

Charles made his move.

Charles sped off in the opposite direction of his house,

so the man could not follow him home.

CHARLES HOLDEN: Went down the road a little ways.

Turned around.

I didn't see him nowhere in sight.

I went down the other way and I turned around.

Didn't see him out nowhere in sight.

So I ventured down the road, and when

I come back to my driveway, he was at my trailer.

ROBERT STACK: Somehow, by some disturbing coincidence,

the stranger had found his way to Charles's trailer.

Now Charles had an additional concern--

his trailer was adjacent to a small farmhouse where

his 70-year-old mother lived.

Charles rushed to a payphone and called the police.

How are you doing?

I'm Trooper Williams with the Delaware State Police.

Are you Mr. Holden? - Yes, ma'am.

Mr. Holden just explained to me

that he had been home, by his residence,

and saw this black male there, and that he needed somebody

to go back with him, because this person

was hanging around his mom's residence and his residence.

Once we got there, we checked to see if the doors

were locked and everything.

And both the back and front door of his trailer were locked.

Well, Mr. Holden, it looks like your house is secure here.

All right.

Could you come take a look at my mom's house?

TROOPER WILLIAMS: And we walked across the grass,

because their property is adjacent to each other.

We walked across the grass and around to the back door

of the residence.

And that's when the two of us discovered that the back window

to the back door was broken.

Mom?

CHARLES HOLDEN: I thought something was wrong

when I first hollered, because Mom, she

was the type of mother that--

she would be awake until I got in at night.

Then she'd go to sleep.

Mom?

ROBERT STACK: In an upstairs bedroom,

Charles Holden found the body of his mother, Dorothy Donovon.

Dorothy had been stabbed repeatedly

in the chest, arms, and face.

[police radio]

ROBERT STACK: The police found nothing

missing from Dorothy's house and ruled out robbery as a motive.

When investigators heard Charles's story,

their first instinct was that he had

concocted an elaborate alibi.

And again, I just drove around.

I was scared.

OK, Charles, you're going to need come down

and treat with us.

We're going to have to talk about this a little further.

OK?

Come on.

GREGORY NOLT: Just the mere coincidence

of what he said happened-- it was

difficult for the investigators to believe

that he picks this guy up, takes him a couple of miles,

drops him off.

The next thing you know, he's at his mom's house,

never having met this lady or Charles before,

and killing this-- killing Dorothy Donovon.

It just was very hard to believe.

And it wasn't until we were able to go back and interview

the people at the fast-food restaurant,

were we able to see that, yes, this black male did exist.

I wonder if I could ask you ladies to do

me like a really big favor?

I'm trying to get up to Georgetown.

GREGORY NOLT: Also, later that day, we

were able to obtain certain physical evidence at the scene,

that being a bloody palm print.

And we also found two sources of DNA inside the residence.

Neither of this physical evidence

comes back to Charles Holden.

So therefore, because of these things,

we were able to eliminate Charles as a suspect.

CHARLES HOLDEN: It's-- the whole story seemed

like a big nightmare to me.

You know, it's like, you're in some kind of a dream.

You don't think it really-- really happened.

You think you could drive over to my mother's house

and she'll be there, you know.

But I know that's not going to be happening.

BRENDA ALEXANDER: She meant the world to me.

She called me every morning and every evening,

say good night to us.

Best friend I ever have had.

I miss that dearly.

If she'd been killed in an automobile wreck,

or had a medical problem, I could have accepted that.

And I don't think anybody has a right to-- to kill someone

and to take their life away like that.

[music playing]

ROBERT STACK: Join me next Friday for another edition

of Unsolved Mysteries.