← 13th Juror Podcast
13th Juror Podcast
The Prosecution of Richard Allen
00:42:54
A cellphone video, a single unspent bullet, and a man who admits he was there. The prosecution says these pieces finally reveal the truth behind one of America’s most haunting unsolved murders. But do they prove guilt or just proximity? Dive into the prosecution's case against Richard Allen.
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This podcast is sponsored by IQ Bar. I've got good news and bad news. Here's the bad news. Most protein bars are packed with sugar and unpronounceable ingredients. The good news? There's a better option. I'm Will and I created IQ Bar Plant Protein Bars to empower doers like you with clean, delicious, low sugar, brain and body fuel. IQ bars are packed with 12 grams of protein, brain nutrients like magnesium and Lion's Mane and Zero Weird Stuff. And right now you can get 20% off all IQ Bar products plus free shipping. Try our delicious IQ Bar Sampler Pack with seven plant protein bars, four hydration mixes and four enhanced coffee sticks. Clean ingredients, amazing taste and you'll love how you feel. Refuel smarter, hydrate harder, caffeinate larger with IQ Bar. Go to eatiqbar.com and enter code BAR20 to get 20% off all IQ Bar products plus free shipping. Again, go to eatiqbar.com and Enter code BAR20.
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See, this is the path that we go down. There's no path going there, so we have to go down here. It's one of the most haunting recordings in American true crime. A grainy image of a man walking along a dilapidated railroad bridge toward the camera, seemingly unaware he's being filmed. He's wearing jeans and a blue jacket layered over something darker. With his hands buried deep in his pockets, his head tilts slightly forward as he steps across the uneven railroad ties. A shadow falls on his face, making him even harder to identify. The clip lasts just a few seconds, and right at the end, just as the camera pans toward the ground, four words are spoken, barely audible over the crunch of gravel and the blowing wind. An unidentified voice gives a calm but commanding guys down the hill. That short recording became the centerpiece of a double murder case that would shake the small town of Delphi, Indiana. Two middle school best friends set out for an afternoon hike along the winding Monon High Bridge trails and never came home. Their bodies were found the next day, and the only clue to who might have done this to them was that recording captured on the phone of one of the girls. A chilling fragment of evidence marking the final moments of their lives and the beginning of a mystery that would haunt their families, their town and the nation. For more than five years, he was known only as Bridge guy. Then in 2022, police gave him a name, Richard Allen, a 50 year old CVS employee who had admitted to being on the trail that day. But as the investigation unfolded, the case divided nearly everyone who followed it. Some were sure police had their man. Others were just as sure Richard Allen was innocent, and they pointed the finger elsewhere. As the case wound its way through the legal system, the twists and turns only multiplied, each revelation leaving the public more stunned than the last. What happened along that trail in Delphi became one of the most chilling and fiercely debated murder cases in Indiana history. The prosecution says it's justice served. The defense says it's at the expense of an innocent man. But it's the jurors who have the final say. This is the 13th juror podcast where we break down real court cases and put you in the juror's seat. Two sides, the same evidence. You decide what to believe. I'm your host, Brandi Churchwell. Today's episode is Indiana vs Richard Allen, Part 1 the Prosecution Story. 14 year old Liberty German and 13 year old Abigail Williams were the kind of best friends who balanced each other in all the right ways. Libby was the more outgoing of the two, adventurous, confident, and a little bold. She loved softball and swimming and had an eye for photography, always capturing the world exactly as she saw it. She spoke her mind, asked questions few others thought to ask, and had a way of making people laugh. Abby, the younger of the pair at just 13, carried herself with a confidence far beyond her years. She loved the outdoors and sports, especially volleyball, and had a creative streak that came out in her school projects and her art. Her family described her as fiercely loyal, with a quiet strength all her own, someone who could stand her ground without making a scene. Abby and Libby had been best friends for years, inseparable in the way only middle school girls can be. They were in the band together, played volleyball together, and even vacationed with each other's families. They traded clothes, shared inside jokes, and spent countless afternoons together wandering trails, joking around, and enjoying the freedom of being Young. On Monday, Feb. 13, 2017, in Delphi, Indiana, Abby and Libby woke up from their sleepover the night before. Their school was closed for a teacher work day, so Abby had spent the night at Libby's house. The girls wandered into the kitchen to find Libby's dad making banana pancakes. They ate, joked around, and talked about what to do with their free day. The weather was unusually warm for mid February in Indiana. The frost had melted, the sun was out, and there was just the slightest hint of spring in the air, the kind of day that pulls kids outside after months of a bitter Midwestern winter. Abby and Libby didn't want to waste it indoors, so they asked for permission to walk the local trails. Delphi is a small town with a Population of only about 3,000 people, but it's defined by its historic trail system. Miles of wooded paths wind through the landscape along the Wabash river and Deer Creek, crossing old bridges that have held more than a century of footsteps. The trails are a favorite place for the local kids to explore, to stretch their sense of independence, and to make the most of their day off of school. Their plan was simple. Kelsey, Libby's older sister, would drop the girls off. They'd walk the trails, take some pictures, and Libby's dad would pick them up later. On the way to the trail, the girls sat in the back of Kelsey's car, laughing and taking selfies. They arrived sometime around 1:45pm and Kelsey watched as they climbed out of the car, walked toward the trailhead and disappeared down the long, winding path. By 2:05pm they had reached the Monon High Bridge. Monon High Bridge was a local landmark, a relic from another time. Once a rail line carrying trails through Carroll county, it was abandoned decades ago and became a destination for hikers, photographers and local kids looking for a challenge. Technically, the bridge wasn't part of the trail system. It marked the end of it, and crossing to the far side meant stepping onto private property. But that didn't stop kids from crossing it anyway. Whether on a dare or just for bragging rights, it's the kind of bridge that demands your attention. When you step onto it. There are no rails to keep you from falling off the sides. The ties are weathered and uneven, and the gaps between them give way to dizzying views of the creek far below. One wrong step could mean a serious fall, but it was incredibly beautiful. Libby opened Snapchat to share what she and Abby were up to. She posted one photo of the bridge's weathered wooden ties stretching out into the distance. Another of Abby standing in the center of the bridge, her hair pulled up, her hands tucked into the pockets of her zip up hoodie. She was wearing jeans and Converse sneakers. Her eyes were fixed downward, watching her footing as she made her way across the deteriorating bridge. A few minutes later, at 2:13pm Libby grabbed her phone again and pressed record. In the now infamous video, Libby is standing at the end of the bridge with her phone camera pointing down at the ground showing the spot where the weathering railroad ties end and the gravel begins. She begins to talk about some confusion over where the trail ends, and you can hear the sound of gravel under her shoes as she moves around. Then the camera shifts upwards as Abby comes into view just down the bridge. But unlike in the photos, Libby just shared. This time, Abby's not alone. There's a man trailing behind her as she makes her way toward Libby at the end of the bridge. His head is down, his hands are in his jacket pockets. As Abby makes it to the end of the bridge, Libby tells her the path they were on has ended. They're trying to figure out where to go as the man closes in behind them. And then comes the voice. Guys, down the hill. The camera moves just in time to see a blurry vision of Abby, then cuts off forever. It was the last recording Libby would ever make. See, this is the path that we go down. There's no path going there, so we have to go down here, Guys. One hour later, Libby's dad pulled into the parking lot where he was supposed to meet the girls, but the lot was empty. When he called Libby's phone, she didn't pick up. He thought maybe they were still walking back, so he waited. Five minutes passed, then 10. He called Libby again, but still no answer. He called Libby's sister, Kelsey, who was already on her way to work. She immediately turned around and headed back toward the trail. By the time she got there, her dad was already searching, walking the paths, calling their names. The trail was quiet. As the daylight faded, the temperature began to drop. Worried family members called friends, neighbors and anyone who might have seen them. Word about two missing girls spread quickly in the small town, and by nightfall police had been notified and a search was underway. Volunteers grabbed flashlights, bundled into coats, and headed out into the cold, combing the trails, bridge and creek banks. They called out for the girls, hoping to hear a reply, but there was nothing. Hours ticked by. Around 2am as the temperature continued to plummet, officers made the painful decision to suspend the search. It was a long, sleepless night for both families. At the first sign of daylight on February 14, the search began again. The crowd was bigger this time. Volunteers poured in. Neighbors, classmates, even complete strangers who had heard about the missing girls. Search teams from multiple agencies fanned across the woods. Canine units swept the area, and volunteers worked to search every hill and ravine. It was late morning when the first break came. Beneath the Monon High bridge, something in the water caught a searcher's eye, snagged on a tangle of roots along the far bank of Deer Creek. As he moved closer, he realized what he was seeing. Libby's tie, dyed T shirt. Authorities were notified immediately. Calls went out across town and searchers refocused their attention on the creek, scanning for anything else out of place. Then, just before noon, about a half mile downstream, A pair of searchers made a second discovery. They had found Abby and Libby foreign.
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This podcast is sponsored by IQ Bar. I've got good news and bad news. Here's the bad news. Most protein bars are packed with sugar and unpronounceable ingredients. The good news? There's a better option. I'm Will and I created IQ Bar plant protein bars to empower doers like you with clean, delicious, low sugar, brain and body fuel. IQ bars are packed with 12 grams of protein, brain nutrients like magnesium and Lion's Mane, and Zero Weird Stuff. And right now, you can get 20% off all IQ Bar products, plus free shipping. Try our delicious IQ Bar Sampler Pack with seven plant protein bars, four hydration mixes and four enhanced coffee sticks. Clean ingredients, amazing taste and you'll love how you feel. Refuel smarter, hydrate harder, Caffeinate larger with IQ Bar. Go to eatiqbar.com and enter code BAR20. To get 20% off all IQ Bar products plus free shipping, again, go to eatiqbar.com and Enter code BAR20.
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Investigators secured the area, but this wasn't a controlled crime scene. This was in the middle of the woods near public trails, exposed to the elements and anyone who had passed through before or after the murders. Evidence here was fragile, and there wasn't a lot to go on. At least not until they accessed Libby's phone. Then there it was, the big break they needed. The grainy video of the man on the bridge, the voice ordering the girls down the hill. Police released a still image from the video to the public, asking anyone who had been on the trails that day to contact them. Tips flooded in. Witnesses described seeing a man walking on the trails alone. One reported a strange vehicle backed into a parking spot like it was ready to leave quickly. One even saw a man walking down the side of the road near the trails, covered in mud or blood. Sketches were released, then updated, then replaced. The image of bridge guy stayed on billboards and in the news. The case was featured on national television. Leads poured in from all over the country. But despite thousands of tips, countless interviews, and involvement from state and federal agencies, no arrest was made, and the case grew cold. Fear settled into Delphi. Parents kept their kids close, worried Libby and Abby's killer was still among them. Whispered theories spread through the town about odd neighbors, men who didn't belong, people who suddenly seemed suspicious. And always the same question arose. Why hasn't anyone been arrested? Then, on October 26, 2022, five years and eight months after the murders, came an announcement that stunned the nation. There had been an arrest. A 50 year old CVS employee named Richard Matthew Allen. The community's reaction was immediate. Who was Richard Allen? His name had never surfaced publicly. Yet when the trial opened on October 18, 2024, prosecutor Nick McLeland told the jurors that Richard Allen was bridge Guy and that they had the eyewitness testimony, digital evidence, forensics, and Allen's own statements to prove it. Based on the testimony and evidence they presented, this is the prosecution story. Early testimony from family and friends painted a vibrant picture of Abby and Libby as bright, funny and adventurous. They spoke about their friendship, their larger than life personalities, the plans they had made that day, and the moment the families realized they hadn't come home. They described the frantic search, the community coming together, and finally the moment hope was replaced with heartbreak. One of the most emotional moments came when the man who found the girls took the stand as he reached the part of his story where he made the gruesome discovery, a memory he'd carried for years. He stopped mid sentence overwhelmed, his voice catching. After a pause, he quietly asked the attorney. For a moment, those early witnesses established the emotional core of the trial, a reminder that behind every piece of evidence were two children whose lives had been stolen. Once they solidified their heartbreaking narrative, the state shifted to the next chapter of the story, the investigation that began the moment the crime scene was discovered. When the searcher's call rang out that the girls bodies had been found, everything in those woods shifted. Word traveled up and down the creek bank, across radios and back to town. Abby and Libby had been found, but the condition they were found in stopped even the most seasoned investigators in their tracks. In court, prosecutors described the scene as disturbing, and the lead crime scene investigator said it appeared arranged. The girls were discovered in a small wooded clearing just inside the tree line on the north side of Deer Creek. They were positioned close to one another, lying flat on their backs at a perpendicular angle. Their feet nearly touching. Their throats had been cut, yet there were no visible signs of a struggle. Sticks and large branches had been placed across and around their bodies. Not randomly scattered the way fallen brush would look, but laid in ways that immediately struck investigators as deliberate. A large pool of blood set between them. Beyond their fatal injuries and the branches placed over them, almost everything else about how the girls were found was different. Libby was positioned at the base of a tree, her right arm along her side, her left arm extended above her head, her hand touching the trunk. Abby's arms were bent at the elbows, resting on her chest, her hands near her face. The blood patterns also differed. Both of Libby's hands were covered in blood, and she had blood on her heels, calf and thigh. Abby, however, had no blood on her hands or feet, Only the blood around her neck wound. There were differences in clothing as well, although the pathologist confirmed neither girl showed obvious signs of traumatic sexual injury. Libby was found completely nude. Abby, on the other hand, was wearing Libby's clothing. Abby's own jeans were found in the creek, turned inside out, along with a hooded sweatshirt, Libby's tie, dyed T shirt, Libby's left Nike shoe, and a few other items. However, some of the clothing, including underwear and a sock, was never recovered. Abby also had a faint mark across her face, consistent with something being placed across her mouth. Its width resembled duct tape, though no adhesive residue remained. To the pathologist, it suggested that something may have been used to muffle her while she was alive or while she was dying. And while both girls died from a single neck wound, Libby's injuries were significantly more severe. Jurors were shown diagrams mapping the cuts. The pattern on Libby's neck showed deliberate targeting of major life sustaining vessels. But what jurors found most devastating was the same truth for both girls. Their injuries would not have caused instantaneous death. The implication of that lingered heavily in the courtroom. The injuries, the clothing, the placement, everything about the scene was deeply unsettling. But investigators still needed more. They secured the area and began searching for anything that might explain what had happened. It didn't take long for the first clue to appear. A nearby tree had blood on it. Not random droplets, but a pattern that resembled the shape of the letter F. Investigators began calling it the F tree. Some of the crime scene investigators recommended bringing in a blood spatter expert to determine how the pattern got there. Was it symbolic? Intentional? No one knew. What they did know was that it stood only feet from the girls. Another detail that didn't feel random. The immediate area was combed for a weapon, but none was found. Investigators sifted through soil, leaves and debris, documenting anything that seemed out of place. Items of the girl's clothing, personal belongings, and possible fibers were collected. Crime scene photographers captured hundreds of images, and by nightfall, investigators turned to alternative light searches. They misted chemicals across the ground and scanned the area with specialized goggles as blue light swept over the leaves. As they did this, one investigator kept catching a flash, a tiny glint in the leaves near the girl's ankles. Each time the light passed over it, he leaned down, brushed aside the leaves and uncovered the next clue. An unspent.40 caliber cartridge finally, when it was time to remove the girls bodies, investigators found one more critical clue. Underneath Abby's body, face down in the dirt, was Libby's phone. Investigators immediately recognized its significance. A phone can hold a timeline, a footprint, a clue, or in rare and extraordinary cases, a recording. They collected it carefully, logged it as evidence and sent it off for analysis. That phone would become the most important piece of evidence in the Delphi investigation. Within days, police discovered what Libby had captured. A grainy video, a single still frame and a few seconds of audio of the man walking toward them on the bridge. They sent the video to a forensic examiner who used industry standard tools to enhance it frame by frame, pushing the footage as far as technology would allow without altering what was actually there. The results weren't perfect, but they offered the clearest glimpse yet of the man police believed was responsible for these murders. The image was released to the public along with a plea for anyone who had been on the trails that day to come forward. And witnesses did. 16 year old Rayleigh Voorhees testified that she was leaving the trails around 1:30pm with her sisters and her friend Brianne Wilbur when they passed a man walking in. He wore dark clothing, a hood pulled up and something covering the lower half of his face. Raley waved and said hello, but he didn't answer, only gave her a look she described as a glare. When she saw the police image of bridge guy, she recognized him immediately. Brianne Wilbur confirmed everything she said. Then came Betsy Blair, a regular on the trails. Betsy entered the trail about 15 or 20 minutes after Brianne Raley and her sisters left. When she reached the Monon High Bridge, she saw a man standing alone on one of the platforms, looking down the tracks as if waiting for someone. On her way out, she passed two girls walking toward the bridge. That night, when she saw Abby and Libby's faces on the news, she knew it had been them. And when she saw the still image of bridge guy, she also recognized him. Immediately. Betsy suddenly understood exactly what she had witnessed. Only minutes after seeing the man on the bridge, she watched as the girls passed by her, unknowingly walking directly toward their killer. The timeline prosecutors built was tight. The Snapchat photo of Abby on the bridge was taken at 2.07pm the video of the man approaching started at 2.13pm within an hour, Libby's dad arrived to pick them up, but the girls were gone. The medical examiner said the autopsies couldn't pinpoint a time of death, but investigators believed the murders happened in that narrow window. A full System extraction was done on Libby's phone, and the data painted a chilling picture of what prosecutors said were the girl's final minutes. Apple health data showed movement consistent with the girls walking the trails. The last thing heard on the recording was a man's voice ordering them down the hill. But right after that, someone attempted to unlock the phone using touch ID and the attempt failed. Only three fingerprints were saved to the phone, two of Libby's and one of Abby's. Which means the failed unlock attempt so soon after the recording suggested their abductor tried to take the phone. Movement continued to log on the health data for several more minutes, then stopped. Seven minutes passed before movement began again, and an elevation change of about 20ft is recorded in the health data, which could be when the girls moved down the hill. Finally, at 2:32pm the phone recorded its last movement. Prosecutors argued this was the moment it hit the ground, where it would remain until discovered beneath Abby's body the next day. To close out their timeline, prosecutors called a woman named Sarah Carbaugh around 4pm she was driving along County Road 300 north when she saw a man walking westbound, hunched over, acting sketchy. As she got closer, she realized he appeared to be covered in what she told the jury was mud and blood. Witnesses and digital evidence formed a narrative investigators believed pointed to one unshakable conclusion. Bridge Guy was the man who murdered Abby and Libby. Now they just needed to find out who. It would take more than five years for that answer to surface, until one overlooked piece of evidence suddenly shifted the entire investigation and led police straight to the doorstep of Richard Allen.
- [27:41]
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This podcast is sponsored by IQ Bar. I've got good news and bad news. Here's the bad news. Most protein bars are packed with sugar and unpronounceable ingredients. The good news? There's a better opt option. I'm Will and I created IQ Bar Plant protein bars to empower doers like you with clean, delicious, low sugar, brain and body fuel. IQ bars are packed with 12 grams of protein, brain nutrients like magnesium and Lion's Mane and Zero Weird Stuff. And right now you can get 20% off all IQ Bar products plus free shipping. Try our delicious IQ Bar Sampler Pack with seven plant protein bars, four hydration mixes and four enhanced coffee sticks. Clean ingredients, amazing taste and you'll love how you feel. Refuel smarter, hydrate harder, caffeinate larger with IQ Bar. Go to eatiq bar.com and enter code BAR20. To get 20% off all IQ Bar products plus free shipping. Again, go to eatiqbar.com and enter code BAR20.
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In September of 2022, a volunteer receptionist at the Carroll County Sheriff's Office came across a box of tip sheets in a desk drawer. As she sifted through them, one caught her eye. A man had reported being on the Monon High Bridge trail the very day Abby and Libby disappeared. That detail stopped her cold. She remembered the early reports. Multiple witnesses had described a man alone on the trails that afternoon. So she flagged it and handed it directly to investigators. Investigator Tony Liggett got the tip and immediately pulled the file. The name on it? Richard Allen. According to the old notes, Allen had done what police asked the public to do. He contacted the tip line shortly after the girls went missing. A DNR officer had followed up the same day, meeting him in the parking lot of a local grocery store. Allen said he'd been on the trails between 1:30 and 3:30pm he remembered seeing three girls leaving the trail as he arrived, but said he didn't see anyone else. He walked all the way out onto the Monon High Bridge, stopped at the first platform, then turned around and headed back. The DNR officer documented the conversation, and Alan was soon cleared. Like thousands of other tips, it faded into the background of a massive investigation. But now, more than five and a half years later, investigators wanted to hear that story again. They ran Allen's information through the BMV and noted he had two cars registered to his name, a gray 2006 Ford 500 and a black 2016 Ford Focus hatchback. Investigators pulled up surveillance footage from a local store that had a camera pointed toward a stretch of road near the entrance of the High Bridge Trail. And there, at 1:27pm Just minutes before the girls were dropped off at the trails, a small, dark colored hatchback appeared. That was enough for investigators. On October 13, 2022, Mullen and Liggett drove to Richard Allen's home and knocked on the front door. When Allen answered, they explained why they were there and he agreed to go with them to the station. Investigators told the jury Allen repeated the same basic story, but suddenly the timeline had shifted. He now claimed he wasn't on the trail as late as they said he was. He told them he visited his mother until about 11am Then stopped by his house to grab a jacket before heading to the trails. This time, he insisted he arrived around noon and left around 1:30. He again mentioned seeing three girls at the start of the trail, but said he didn't see anyone else. When investigators asked what he was wearing, Allen said either a black or Blue Carhartt jacket, jeans, a skull cap, and either boots or sneakers. Those details were striking. Here was Richard Allen sitting in an interview room, describing clothing that matched the witnesses accounts of bridge guy. He placed himself on the same bridge platform where one witness saw a lone man. And he admitted being on the same trail where Abby and Libby recorded their killer. To detectives Mullen and Liggett, the odds of that being a coincidence were non existent. As they pressed harder, the interview grew tense. Finally, Allen stood up, walked out and refused to continue. The moment Richard Allen walked out of that interview room, investigators didn't hesitate. They drafted a search warrant, got it signed by a judge, and within hours were standing inside the Allen home searching for anything that could connect him to the bridge, the crime scene or the girls. Inside a front closet, investigators uncovered a blue Carhartt jacket, the same color and style multiple witnesses said the man on the trail had been wearing. They seized the jacket along with jeans, boots and other clothing Allen had admitted to wearing that day to the state. The clothing wasn't just consistent, it was exact. But it wasn't just closely matched clothes that changed the direction of the investigation. Inside a wooden box, investigators discovered a.40 caliber Winchester round. The same brand and caliber as the unspent cartridge that was found near Abby and Libby's bodies. Then inside a nightstand drawer, investigators discovered a Sig Sauer P226 handgun registered to Richard Allen. They seized it, photographed it and logged it for forensic analysis. This was the first time in five years they had a firearm they could test against the mysterious.40 caliber round collected at the scene. Back in 2017, a forensic firearms examiner testified that when a round is chambered in that moment model of Sig Sauer. Even if it is never fired, the gun's slide and extractor can leave microscopic markings on the brass casing. She compared the unspent cartridge from the scene to test rounds cycled through Allen's gun. The sample was limited, the comparison imperfect. But after her analysis, she issued a certificate of conclusion. Her opinion was that the cartridge found between the girls bodies had been cycled through Richard Allen's Sig Sauer. Following the test, officers asked Richard Allen to come to the Indiana State Police post. And once he took a seat inside the interview room, investigators gingerly began questioning. Lieutenant Jerry Holman. Built rapport, even swapping stories about guns and military experience. Allen seemed relaxed at first, cooperative even. But the tone shifted the moment investigators began pressing him about February 13, 2017. Allen repeated what he'd said back then, insisting that he was on the trails. But he wasn't guilty of murdering these two little girls. Then Holman asked the question he had been building toward. He asked Richard Allen why his round was found at the murder scene. Allen immediately denied it. He said, there's no way they pushed harder. They told him the lab had matched the cartridge to his gun. They told him experts believed the video image and the voice were him. They repeated the accusation over and over and over, asking how his unspent round could be lying just inches from the girls bodies. As they pushed, Allen grew visibly agitated and his denials turned sharper. He said, I didn't do it. Things continued to escalate as Lt. Holman raised his voice and cursed back at him. Lt. Holman continued to press him, and he accused him again and again and again. Holman later admitted on the stand that he had lied to Allen about the experts linking him to the bridge guy video, even though during the interview with Allen, Lt. Holman insisted it would be unethical for him to lie. He said he used the claim as an interrogation tactic to push for a confession. He made up some evidence, trying to corner Allen into feeling like he was caught. But each time Holman confronted him, Allen became more agitated. Finally exhausted and cornered. Allen looked at them and said the words Holman would look later repeat to the jury, take all your evidence and just arrest me. Investigators stepped out of the room to confer. Based on the cartridge, his statements, the timeline, the clothing description, the witnesses who said they saw him, they believed they had probable cause. When they walked back into the room, Richard Allen was no longer a witness or even a person of interest. Richard Allen was their guy. That's when they arrested him for the murders of Abgail Williams and Liberty German. Once charged, Allen was moved to the Carroll County Jail. But almost immediately, jail staff reported problems. He was paranoid, agitated. He talked to himself, paced, and refused to sleep. He said other inmates were threatening him. Even though he was kept completely alone. His behavior worsened so quickly that officials made a rare decision and they transported him to Westfield Correctional Facility, a maximum security prison normally reserved for convicted offenders, not pretrial detainees. The transfer was approved strictly to keep Richard Allen alive. Jail staff had become afraid he might harm himself, so he was transferred to the prison and put on suicide watch. He cycled through phases of having to be monitored by someone every 15 minutes to having to be monitored continuously. A camera was put in his tiny cell so that he could be watched at all times, and he was assigned companions, which are other inmates or corrections officers whose task it was to Monitor him, making notes of his odd behavior, to report to the psychologist at the prison who was treating him. At trial, the state used this part of the story to their advantage. It started with statements to his companions and then to his doctor and finally to his wife and mother. The state introduced what they said were Allen's own incriminating words. For one full day of trial. Jurors listened as the warden from the correctional facility, along with eight different corrections officers, took the stand to testify about Allen's behavior and, more importantly, his words. They said when he arrived In November of 2022, he seemed normal. They described him as docile and respectful. But by April, everything spiraled. There were long periods of time where he refused his medication, food, and even showers. He sat in the corner of his cell mumbling prayers, curses, and fragments of sentences that no one could fully understand. He ran in place, naked, banged his head on the wall until he was black and blue. When things escalated, the behavior became worse and more bizarre. He drank out of the toilet, began collecting his feces, which he smeared on himself and even ingested at times. One officer even noted that he stuck a spork in his own genitals. As they testified to what they witnessed, the officers made it clear that they didn't buy his act. They believed he was faking it because they had seen him act normal when he arrived. And in between the rambling and bizarre behavior, they said Richard Allen made statements that sounded nothing like insanity. He made statements that sounded like confessions. Statements like, I did it. I killed those girls. I killed Abby and Libby. Dr. Tara Walla, the prison psychologist who evaluated Allen, took the stand for the state. She testified that although Allen was severely distressed, she did not believe he was suffering from a major mental illness that would make him unable to understand reality. Instead, she told the jury that Allen appeared depressed, paranoid and sleep deprived, but oriented all the same. He was coherent at times, aware of who he was, where he was, and what he was accused of. She said he told her things, too. Not in a delusional rant, but in moments of clarity. And like the correctional officers before her, she said Allen admitted to killing Abby and Libby. He told her that he didn't want to live anymore because of what he'd done and that the weight of the murders was destroying him. He wrote the warden a letter saying he was ready to confess. He made statements to officers saying he's the one who did it, no one else is responsible, and that he's sorry. Some guards said that Alan made these statements while crying. Others testified that he said it calmly, almost matter of fact. The state argued that people in psychosis admit to impossible things, like I'm the President, I'm God, or I killed someone on Mars. But Richard Allen confessed to something very specific, very real and very close to home, the exact crime he was accused of. And he confessed to it over a dozen times to guards, to mental health staff, to the prison psychologist, and even to his family. As the state reached the final days of their case, they closed it out by letting the jury hear Richard Allen's own voice confessing to what he was accused of. Not just words muttered in an interrogation room or whispered to guards during an emotional breakdown. These were Richard Allen's own phone calls, placed knowingly after hearing the standard warning at the beginning of each call. This call is subject to monitoring and recording. Jurors listened as Allen told his family, I did it. I'm the reason those girls are dead. I did something horrible. He repeated all the same sentiments he shared with Dr. Walla that his guilt was killing him and he was ready and deserving of punishment. Prosecutors told the jury that they spent years trying to find out what happened in those woods in February of 2017. And now, thanks to Richard Allen's own words, they finally know. They pieced together the details from each admission and laid it out for the jury. Allen admitted he went to the trail and laid in wait. When he saw the girls, he followed them to the bridge. That's where he did something with his gun which caused a bullet to fall out. He admitted he thought they were older than they were and that he originally planned to sexually assault them, not kill them. But as they made their way down the hill, Allen said he saw a van driving near the area and panicked. He thought someone had seen him with the girls and was worried about getting caught, so he killed them instead. To drive the point home, prosecutors called Brad Weber, the man who owns the property across from the crime scene. He testified that on February 13, 2017, around 2:30pm he drove past the area in his white work van. It was the exact time investigators believe the murders occurred. It was the exact detail Allen mentioned. And it was something the state argued Allen could not have hallucinated or imagined. According to prosecutors, he remembered it because he. He was there. He saw that van, and the sight of it made him believe he'd been caught. And that, they said, is why he killed Abby and Libby, laid sticks on top of them to help camouflage them from passersby, and then fled the scene before he could be caught. All of the evidence they said pointed toward only one conclusion. Richard Allen was guilty. And with that, the prosecution rested. Although the state's case seemed airtight, the story wasn't quite over. In the next episode, the defense takes the floor and they're ready to flip this entire case upside down. Bridge guy is our killer. But according to the defense, every witness who saw him described someone who looked nothing like their client Richard Allen. Plus, the defense has their own explanation for Allen's incriminating jailhouse confessions. And finally, an FBI forensics examiner takes the stand. And her testimony about Libby's phone doesn't just shock the courtroom, it throws the state's timeline, its evidence and its theory of the case into question. Tune in next week for the explosive testimony that sent this trial into chaos. Thirteenth Juror is an audio check production hosted by Brandy Churchwell. Ashley Floyd Flowers is executive producer. You can follow 13th Juror on Instagram. 13th Juror podcast. I think Chuck would approve.