Transcript
A (0:12)
Hey everyone, I'm Ashley.
B (0:14)
And I'm Ricky.
A (0:15)
And this is Crime Salad.
B (0:17)
Now, before we dive in, make sure that you're subscribed wherever you're listening. It really helps keep us telling these stories.
A (0:23)
And if you'd like to support Crime Salad, you can listen completely ad free@patreon.com crimesaladpodcast and if you have a moment, please leave us. A positive review on Apple Podcasts. So today's case spans more than four decades, with a mystery that started in the summer of 1983 and ended only a few months ago with an arrest no one thought would ever come. It's a story about a young woman searching for belonging in a counterculture community on the edge of rural Oregon. Someone who wanted peace, belonging, and independence, but instead met someone whose control and violence changed everything. She was just 27 years old when she mysteriously disappeared, and for 42 years her family held on to hope that she would be found, even when evidence suggested otherwise. Her case went cold, files went missing, and for decades her story was frustrating, forgotten. But thanks to a small group of people who refused to give up, she finally got her name back.
B (1:30)
This woman's disappearance was surrounded by rumors, whispers about communes, drugs, and a mysterious man she was last seen with, but remained just out of reach of detectives on the case.
A (1:41)
So when police finally reopened the case and connected the dots, they uncovered a trail that stretched across state lines where the man suspected of killing Terry had been living for decades. This is the story of Teresa Peroni. Before she was Teresa Perroni, she was Teresa Neal, or Terry, as everyone called her. She was born in either 1955 or 1956 to Phyllis Vincent and Lester Neal, and she grew up alongside her brother Russell. Terri was small and slender, with long dark hair and bright blue eyes, but behind that was a childhood full of instability. Her mother had been married multiple times, and the family dynamic was fractured. Terri and Russell endured years of abuse from their stepfather, reportedly which led both of them to run away from their home at different times. Her brother would later describe their childhood as one built on fear, and it never left them. Terri also struggled with epilepsy for most of her life, which made things even harder. She struggled to hold steady work and frequent seizures left her isolated, but even then she kept trying to find her footing, and in 1974, she thought she found that in Texas. She married and began settling into what seemed like a new chapter. But it didn't last. One afternoon while visiting her family in California, Terry was blindsided with divorce papers. Her brother Russell Said that moment shattered her, throwing her life in shambles. That loss set her adrift again. And by the early 1980s, Terry was looking for something or somewhere that felt like home. And that search led her to Oregon. Like a lot of people back then, especially after the counterculture movement of the 70s, she was drawn to communities that promised freedom, music, peace, and living off the land. For people like Terry, who'd gone through so much, those groups could seem like a chance to start over. So Terri had found her way into a circle of people called the Earth People's Park Crowd, or EPP for short.