Reporter (9:06)

They were last seen alive on May 24. Their bodies were found eight days later. Rangers are still posted at the path leading up to the crime scene, but there are other rangers out there walking the Appalachian Trail, talking to hikers about what they might have seen these last few weeks.

Narrator (9:23)

That weekend, Shenandoah was packed. Campers grilled by their tents. Cyclists coasted along Skyline Drive and families hiked, completely unaware that just beyond the trees, a tragedy had already unfolded. On an average day that May, especially on the weekend, nearly 4,600 visitors would have moved through the park, picnicking, hiking, setting up camp, never imagining what was happening in the woods nearby. For decades, this area, like many stretches along the Appalachian Trail, had been a kind of Refuge. A 2000 mile ribbon of wilderness where strangers shared campsites and trusted each other implicitly. The discovery in Shenandoah that weekend shattered that illusion. And for investigators, it was only the beginning.

Reporter (10:20)

Investigators are following many leads. Forensic evidence, though, is the backbone of such cases. Flags mark where possible clues have been found. Logbooks like this one have been taken out of the shelters where the women may have stopped. Park police are reviewing any parking or speeding tickets written in the past few weeks. And while Officials say this is an isolated incident. Hikers now aren't taking any chances filling out their backcountry permits. It was this clue that led rangers to the victims and the permit then.

Narrator (10:48)

Gave us an idea about when they would be in the park and their approximate location. So that is one reason that they were found so quickly. When we return, the investigation begins and the illusion of safety in Shenandoah starts to unravel. The murders of Julie and Lolli weren't announced right away. More than a day had passed since their bodies were found. When the park service finally broke the news, the words they chose were an isolated incident and the FBI followed with their own word, random. But outside the park, those words didn't bring comfort. They only brought fear.

Reporter (11:43)

As a setting sun colored the sky over Shenandoah national park, investigators still search for a killer whoever murdered 24 year old Julie Williams and 26 year old Lolly Winant.

Narrator (11:57)

The delay in notifying the public sparked immediate backlash on Capitol Hill. An Alaskan senator demanded to know why no warning had been issued when two women were found murdered inside a national park. Shenandoah wasn't just a park. It was part of the Appalachian Trail, over 2,000 miles of wilderness stretching from Georgia to Maine. Hikers saw it as a sanctuary and they started speaking up. Brian King of the Appalachian Trail Conference said, there's a very profound expectation of sanctuary in the woods. It's been invaded. Any kind of violence is invasive. Newspaper headlines began to spread the story across the country from the Richmond Times Dispatch to the Star Tribune in Minnesota. For hikers on the trail, the news hit hard. For example, Rich Ashburn had planned a four day trip heading south on Appalachian Trail into Shenandoah. After hearing the news, though, he turned north. Instead, he packed mace and camped clothes closer to other hikers. We don't hike alone anymore. Or if you do, you're looking over your shoulder. Maybe you stick to the road. It just makes you extra cautious, a little fearful. Hikers like Richard Spare, a 64 year old thru hiker from Pennsylvania, were in the park when the bodies were found. I moved my tent a little closer to some people just to feel more secure. Even those who worked in the park were shaken. Sally Hurlburt, who had just started at Shenandoah, remembered, we don't have a lot of crime in the park. It was very intense. We were all very scared and worried about it. These weren't sensationalized reactions. In the 25 years since the Appalachian Trail was built, Julie and Lolly were the eighth and ninth People to be murdered. Along its path. And across the park system, crime was rising. On June 5, 1996, the Los Angeles Times ran a story by Richard A. Serrano under a headline that struck a national nerve. Murder Invades Idyllic World of Backpackers. The article laid out the numbers. Homicides in national parks had nearly tripled since 1971. Car thefts had doubled. Assaults were up by more than 60%. Officials insisted the parks were still safe. But one Park Service spokesperson admitted, they are also a microcosm of our society. We have drunk drivers and we have assaults and we have all the other problems people face in the cities. For Julie and Lali's families, the shock was overwhelming. In St. Cloud, Minnesota, the news rippled fast. It wasn't just in the headlines. It was on porches, in grocery store aisles and whispered between neighbors who'd known Julie since she was a kid. Teachers pulled out old yearbooks. Teammates called each other in disbelief. Her funeral drew hundreds. Not just friends and family, but classmates, coaches, community members, all struggling to make sense of how violence from so far away had suddenly reached their town. And this family.

Reporter (15:16)

Julianne Williams loved the outdoors. She could have never known that a final outing before embarking on a new career would be the last trip she'd ever take. The 24 year old Minnesota native was murdered in the Shenandoah National Park. They were finishing up a trip that started in New York and ended in the Shenandoah Valley. Williams, one of four children, was a geology major who graduated from college magna cum laude two years ago. Family and friends remember her and what she loved to do.

Narrator (15:46)

She was extremely proficient at it. She had taken many people up into the bony waters and had taken numerous classes, first aid classes. Was an expert at that. I got with her at any time. Meanwhile, in Michigan, the same wave of disbelief hit lalee's hometown. Her family, friends who'd watched her chart her own path gathered in living rooms and church basements trying to reconcile the free spirited young woman they knew with the headlines coming out of Virginia. Both funerals were held on the same day. Two services, two states and hundreds of people united in grief. And in Minneapolis, at the Woodswomen offices where Julie and Lolly had met, the news landed like a gut punch. This was an organization built on women claiming space in the wilderness, finding belonging on the trail. Their murders cut to the heart of that mission. Behind the scenes, investigators were already facing the scale of the challenge ahead. A vast park with 1.5 million visitors a year, a hidden crime scene and no clear suspect in sight. And in those first weeks after the murders, the story began to shift from personal tragedy to something far more complicated. In the days after the funerals, panic gave way to something quieter. The search parties were gone. TV trucks rolled away, and all that remained was the investigation. Shenandoah national park falls under exclusive federal jurisdiction, which means only federal authorities, the National Park Service, and the FBI can investigate major crimes here. The Park Service secured the scene. Then Virginia State Police were brought in to help process the evidence. But from the beginning, the work was like trying to catch smoke in a forest. A vast park that runs through a 2000 mile well traveled trail, a hidden campsite, and more than a million and a half visitors who passed through there that year alone. Information trickled out, slowly at best. Officials wouldn't say whether the women had been robbed or sexually assaulted. They hadn't, by the way. Official reports would later confirm there was no evidence of robbery or sexual assault. But at the time, the silence around those details supposedly intended to protect the investigation only deepened the unease. To a worried public, that didn't bring comfort.

Reporter (18:47)

The women were found in a campsite off a trail near the Skyline Drive in the Madison county portion of the park. That's near Skyland Lodge. Busloads of people like these from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, are still enjoying the park, most unaware of what happened. Some tourists are now wondering if they're safe to come up here.

Narrator (19:07)

Statistically, it is quite safe. Now, certainly there are isolated incidents, but statistically, yes, it is quite safe. Theories began to spread like wildfire, curling through hiker hostels, ranger stations, newsrooms, and living rooms. Was it a random predator? A targeted attack? A hate crime? Julie and Lolli were experienced outdoors women, but two women camping together were often assumed to be queer. Whether they said it out loud or not, in the mid-90s, that assumption carried weight. Same sex couples still faced stigma, especially in rural or outdoor spaces where visibility could draw attention. Friends and family later told reporters that Julie and Lolli hadn't shared their relationship widely outside their closest circles, afraid of the discrimination or danger that might come with being open. And in 1996, in parts of rural America, that fear was justified. It still is, for what it's worth. And it's horrifying to know that the very fear that kept them quiet was the one that found them. On June 7, less than a week after Julie Williams and Lolly Winans were found murdered, a fax arrived at the Department of Justice. It came from the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force. Ngltf, one of the oldest LGBTQ q advocacy groups in the country. The letter was advised to then Attorney General Janet Reno.

LGBTQ Advocate (21:03)

Dear Madam Attorney General, we are asking for your help to ensure that the FBI and the National Park Service are diligent in investigating all aspects of these crimes, including the possibility that the murders were motivated by anti lesbian bias.

Narrator (21:20)

The task force laid out the facts and as they understood them. Julie and Lolly were traveling together. They were lesbians in an intimate relationship, and they were active in gay organizations. There was no robbery and no clear motive. The letter goes on to read, there.

LGBTQ Advocate (21:37)

Is no known motive at this point, which can be a bias indicator in itself. It is possible that their killer or killers believed them to be lesbians. Clearly, regardless of the killer or killer's motivation, these murders are a senseless tragedy.

Narrator (21:55)

The letter pointed to a chilling precedent. In 1988, Rebecca White was murdered and her partner, Claudia Brenner was seriously injured while hiking the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania. It was an anti lesbian hate crime that became a turning point in federal hate crime crime awareness.

LGBTQ Advocate (22:14)

The Shenandoah slayings remind us of another attack on a lesbian couple eight years ago. Claudia Brenner's willingness to go public with her ordeal was a defining moment. Their assailant was convicted and sentenced to life in prison.

Narrator (22:29)

The task force's concern wasn't just about the crime. It was about how investigators were responding to it.

LGBTQ Advocate (22:37)

Another fact is that at least one FBI spokesperson person has already dismissed the possibility of a hate crime. Unless there are facts to support this conclusion, we are deeply alarmed by such an announcement.

Narrator (22:49)

That spokesperson was Special Agent John Donahue. He told reporters there was, quote, no indication this is a hate crime of any particular type, end quote. But when task force organizer Tracy Conaty spoke with him directly, she was stunned.

LGBTQ Advocate (23:07)

During this conversation, Mr. Donahue indicated that he was unaware that the victims were lesbians and that he had not heard of the Rebecca White and Claudia Brenner incident. Such statements raised serious concerns by the task force about the judgment and apparent expertise of agents assigned to the case.

Narrator (23:27)

For LGBTQ advocates, this wasn't just a gap in knowledge. It was a red flag. It suggested that bias might not fully be understood or investigated by those leading the case. Tracy Conaty was quoted saying, we hope that this is not a hate crime. We don't know at this point that it is. What we do know is that there are indicators that raise red flags for us. Twelve days later, the task force received a response. The reply came from the office of the attorney general. Washington, D.C. janet Reno's desk.

Reporter (24:10)

Dear Ms. Paris, thank you for your letter regarding the tragic deaths of Julianne.

LGBTQ Advocate (24:15)

Williams and Lolli Winans in Shenandoah National Park.

Reporter (24:18)

I want to acknowledge the deep concern.

Narrator (24:20)

Expressed in Reno's office confirmed that the FBI, the National Park Service, and the Virginia State Police were jointly investigating the case and emphasized that from the outset, all motives were being pursued, including anti lesbian bias.

LGBTQ Advocate (24:37)

From the outset, investigators have been exhaustively examining all evidence, following all leads, and pursuing all motives, including the possibility that the crime was motivated by the sexual orientation of the victims. Any press reports that have suggested otherwise have misstated the nature of the investigation.

Narrator (24:56)

The letter also acknowledged a legal reality.

LGBTQ Advocate (25:00)

As you know, crimes motivated by sexual orientation are not separately prosecutable as hate crimes under existing federal law. However, because the deaths occurred on federal property, the United States would have jurisdiction to prosecute this matter federally. In addition, sentences in federal prosecutions may be enhanced if the crime was motivated by the sexual orientation of the victim pursuant to authority passed under the 1994Crime Control Act.

Narrator (25:30)

The DOJ's response offered reassurance, but it also underscored a painful truth. Even if Julie and Lawley's murders had been hate motivated, federal law didn't yet have the tools to prosecute them as such. In the weeks after the murders, this exchange between LGBTQ advocates and the Department of Justice captured two parallel forces. One, a community demanding accountability, and the other, a federal system operating within the legal and cultural limitations of its time. And as the investigation pressed forward, those early tensions between public perception and official narrative only deepened. Behind closed doors, tips flooded in. Names, sightings, stories. For a moment, it felt like the net was tightening. But one by one, the leads unraveled. Suspects were cleared, witnesses faltered, and the phone lines that once rang late into the night grew quiet. The woods that once held two vibrant young women now held something else. Silence for their families. It was as if the forest itself had swallowed the truth, a secret buried under moss and leaves just out of reach. But the story wasn't over a year after Julian Lawley's murders, another woman, a Canadian tourist named Yvonne Malbasha, was cycling along Skyline Drive when a truck pulled alongside her and began yelling obscenities at her. What happened next would introduce investigators to a man whose name would dominate Julian Lawley's case for years to come. That's next time on Sequestered. Sequestered is created by Sarah Reid and Andrea Clyde, hosted and produced by Sarah Brian. Written and researched together. Theme music by Night Owl and original music by Andrew Golden. You can hear his full song Shenandoah through the link in our show notes.