← SEQUESTERED Podcast
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- [00:06]
Sarah Reed
With Daryl David Rice's death, one chapter of this story had closed. But the truth, the one sealed inside an envelope of old evidence, was only starting to come to light. For nearly 30 years, the murders of Julie Williams and Lolli Winans sat in the quiet corners of evidence rooms. The case had been tested, dismissed and retested again, each time circling back to the same haunting question. If not him, then who? In 2021, that question landed on a new desk inside the FBI's Richmond Field Office. A small team of analysts had reopened the Shenandoah file under a federal initiative. One designed to give forgotten evidence another chance to speak. They pulled the original samples. Fibers, hairs, biological traces so small they'd once been impossible to read. This time, the science had changed. The tools were sharper. And for the first time in decades, the evidence had something to say. In a Quiet Lab in 2024, a 30 year old mystery was about to break on a scre. A strand of DNA pulled from evidence that had been stored for decades was finally being tested with modern tools. And then the hit.
- [01:38]
Narrator/Reporter
They've been seeking answers far too long.
- [01:40]
Sarah Reed
What the DNA revealed next would change everything. This is sequestered. Season 3 the Shenandoah Park Murders Episode 5 the DNA Speaks In May 1996, two women entered Shenandoah national park with a sense of freedom and endless possibility. Julianne Julie Williams and Laura Lolli Winans had set out together on a five day backpacking trip through the mountains with their dog Taj. They'd done this kind of trip a hundred times before. They knew how to move and exist in those mountains. May 24, 1996 was the last day anyone had seen them alive. Days passed beyond their expected return date. And on June 1, park officials found them brutally murdered. For decades, this portrait of violence was never fully explained. Back in 96, investigators collected and sealed what they could from the scene. Swabs from the tent, hair and fiber traces, items of biological material. But the science of the day could only do so much. It was an era of partial prints, degraded DNA and long odds. Sample loss. Exposure to the elements, changing weather in the wilderness. All these conspired to make the evidence fragile. Fast forward to 2021. The FBI Richmond field office had assembled a new cold case unit. A staff of agents, analysts and evidence technicians that sifted through decades of paperwork. Old witness statements, half documented tips, folders of leads that were never fully pursued. They identified key evidence that could yield something. Part of a sleeping bag, fibers from the tent flap, hairs that had yet to be tested. And a few Biological swabs that were still held in cold storage. One of the biggest turning points came via funding from the Sexual Assault Kit initiative. These funds afforded the team access to a private lab partner specializing in ultra sensitive DNA extraction. With new extraction methods, analysts could pull DNA from fragments that were once considered too small. Things like hairs without roots, tiny fibers, even trace skin cells. The private lab turned over a series of full DNA profiles. One in particular caught their attention. A male profile that was present on the sleeping bag and tent flap. Once that profile was uploaded into the national DNA database known as codis, it generated a match. But it wasn't enough just to get a name. Investigators had been here before. Moments of hope that led to dead ends, especially in this case. This time, they needed certainty. So they went back to the source. Using a buccal swab that was collected from the suspect in a prior conviction, analysts ran a direct comparison against the DNA recovered from the Shenandoah evidence. And when the results came back, there was no ambiguity. Every marker aligned statistically. The odds of that match belonging to anyone else were less than 1 in 2.6 trillion. A level of certainty that, at least in forensic terms, is as close to absolute as it gets. For the first time in nearly 30 years, the science wasn't suggesting a theory. It was confirming a truth. The match pointed to a man named Walter Leo Jackson, Sr. Born November 2, 1947, he was a convicted serial rapist from Cleveland, Ohio. His criminal record extended from the early 1980s well into the 2000s. What investigators found was shocking. He had been in the park. He had hiking experience. He knew how to use the backcountry. And yet, despite all of that, his name had never been linked to the Shenandoah murders. Until now. When Jackson's DNA match came in, investigators had to ensure the chain of custody, the integrity of the evidence, and the new science all aligned. Internal reviews, lab audits, statistical verifications. Every question had to be answered this time. Because when you're telling two families, you know, who killed their loved ones after almost 30 years, you'd better be right. For Julie and Lollie's families, the arrival of that DNA match felt surreal. Imagine decades of waiting, the heartbreak of absence. The questions that never let go. Not to mention the years of false hope, the endless hearings, headlines and speculation surrounding Daryl David Rice. And now a single solid result. During a press conference, United States Attorney Christop R. Kavanaugh said, After 28 years.
- [07:41]
Narrator/Reporter
We are now able to say who committed the brutal murders of Lally Winans and Julie Williams in Shenandoah National Park. I want to again extend my condolences to the Winans and Williams families and hope today's announcement provides some small measure of solace. Recently, the private lab successfully pulled DNA from several items of evidence. And with assistance from the Virginia State Police, the profile was submitted to the FBI's Combined DNA Index system. There was a positive match to Walter Leo Jackson Sr. Jackson was a convicted serial rapist originally from the Cleveland, Ohio area.
- [08:17]
Sarah Reed
That moment, after years of quiet, frustrated searching, it was the pivot. But identification is only part of the story. What followed next were deeper questions. Who was this man? How did he get there? Why did he target them? And what else could his profile unlock? And so the next phase began, the second act of investigation digging into motive movements and overlapping timelines. The evidence has spoken. And after the break, the story finally begins to catch up. Investigators pieced together Walter Leo Jackson Sr's timeline. We went digging, too, through decades of old newspaper archives. What emerged wasn't a criminal record, but more of a family history, a thread that stretched nearly a century back to an era when if people vanished quietly, the only way to reach them was through the classifieds. In November of 1928, the Cincinnati Post ran a small story, a mother's plea that took up less than 3 inches of newsprint.
- [09:41]
Archive Reader
It read, Mrs. Margaret Jackson, 1534 Denman St. Asks the Post to help her find her son, walter Leo Jackson, 19, who left Cincinnati a year ago. She wants to send him this message. Buddy, please let me know if you are safe and well. Mother never will bother you. Jackson has gray eyes and brown hair. He is 5ft 7 and weighs about 180. He may be living with his mother in law, Mrs. Mary O'. Neill. Mrs. Jackson said.
- [10:15]
Sarah Reed
Her words tender, pleading, sat between an ad for a sewing machine and a church notice, a mother's hope pressed into paper, believing her son might somehow see it. Two years later, his name appeared again. In March 1930, both the Palladium Item and the Richmond Item reported that the Wayne County Sheriff's Office was seeking information on the whereabouts of Walter Leo Jackson, who is now 21 years old. They listed his mother's address, then 819 Clark street in Cincinnati and said he was supposed to be working on a farm near Richmond. End quote. Two papers, two towns, two small notices just days apart, but still no sign of Walter coming home. There was no follow up, no reunion, just a few lines lost among livestock ads and crop reports. By 1973, a man named Walter Leo Jackson, then 77 years old and living In Tulsa, Oklahoma, appeared in a Missouri patrol report after a car accident on U.S. 63 in Osage County. According to the Springfield Leader and press, Jackson's eastbound car had pulled out in front of another vehicle. Everyone survived with minor injuries, and Jackson was taken to still hospital in Jefferson City. Those quiet clippings, yellowed and forgotten, traced a name through generations, A family line that would resurface nearly a century later in the Shenandoah case. A lineage that began with a mother searching for her lost boy and ended with a man whose violence would echo through generations. Walter Leo Jackson, Sr. The man identified through DNA in Julie and Lawley's case, was born in Cincinnati in 1947, the third in that line. He worked as a house painter and led a quiet, unremarkable life on the surface. But beneath it, a darker record had been growing, One marked by violence, stalking, and sexual assault. Jackson's criminal history stretched across four decades, A pattern of violence that began in the early 1980s and and didn't end until well into the 2000s. His record reads like a map of fear across Ohio. Assaults in parking lots, abductions near bus stops, Attacks that happened in daylight and darkness alike. The victims were women he spotted alone, running errands, walking home, standing beside their cars. Each time, he used the same method. Intimidation, threats and brute force. He didn't stalk from the shadows. He closed distance, fast, overpowering his victims before anyone could intervene. And when he was caught, he served his time, then started again.
- [13:43]
Chris Kavanaugh
Jackson was incarcerated from the following dates. January 1984 through February 1989, May 1994 through September 1994, August of 2000 through May of 2007, and May of 2012 through March of 2018.
- [14:04]
Sarah Reed
These gaps in his incarceration mattered because every time Jackson was freed, violence followed. Just days after Julie and Lally were last seen alive, In May of 1996, Jackson had abducted and raped a woman in Cuyahoga county, Ohio. Five weeks later, another woman was attacked at knifepoint. If he is connected to all three of these attacks, that means they all happened within a six week time frame. He wasn't connected to those assaults until years later, though, when the DNA tied him back to the crimes. By then, he'd already served prison terms for other offenses, cycling in and out of the system each time. Slipping into another town with another name on another work order. He'd slip back into a new community, painting houses, moving quietly from place to place, unnoticed, and trusted enough to step inside of people's homes. He moved constantly, swapping license plates, using Temporary tags and changing cars. The FBI now believes that in the spring of 1996, Jackson was driving a Chestnut Brown 1984AMC Eagle, this same model believed to have been seen near Shenandoah that month. Later, he drove a 1979 Ford Econoline van, a vehicle confirmed in photos from his 2011 arrest. He camped, he hiked, and he knew those mountains. By the time Julie and Lawley were killed, WALTER Leo Jackson, Sr. Was in his late 40s. He was experienced, violent and running free. Yet for nearly 30 years, his name never appeared in connection with their murders. His DNA had been sitting in the federal system since 2 2011, but it wasn't until the DNA retesting 13 years later that his name would ever be connected to the crimes in Shenandoah. Technology had finally caught up to the truth. And what it revealed would reshape everything that came next. For more than two decades, Darrell David Rice's name hovered over the Shenandoah murders. Even after his charges were dismissed in 2004, his name never escaped their shadow. Just 15 days after being cleared in the 1996 Shenandoah double slaying that clouded his life for 22 years, Darrell Rice died on a dark Missouri highway. Deputies had seen him earlier that evening pedaling without lights. Minutes later, a vehicle crested the hill and they watched, helpless as the collision unfolded in front of them. Deputies witnessed the impact and performed CPR until medics arrived. Rice was airlifted to a hospital, where he died. His attorney, Gerald Zirkin, called it, quote, an extraordinary coincidence that Rice was killed just days after his name was finally cleared. For years, he'd lived off the grid, unable to find work and haunted by the headlines that never let him go. He was driven into hopelessness. That is the great tragedy of the false accusation. In June of 2024, after decades, the government finally confirmed that Darrell Rice's DNA did not match the evidence and announced that the man responsible was Walter Leo.
- [17:53]
Chris Kavanaugh
Jackson, Sr. After decades of investigations and advancements in DNA analysis, the FBI has identified Walter Leo Jackson, Sr. As the murder suspect. Jackson was a serial rapist who abducted women and assaulted them. The FBI says there is nothing they can do to heal the pain of the two families, but instead provide the closure they have sought for nearly 30 years.
- [18:19]
Sarah Reed
We celebrate her life, the memory of her love of hiking in the outdoors. We know that she died in a place where she was enjoying herself, doing what she loved most.
- [18:30]
Family Representative
Today, we are proud to stand here and tell you we now know who is responsible for this heinous crime.
- [18:38]
Chris Kavanaugh
On May 24, 1996, Lollie and Julie were murdered. And after 28 years, the FBI has found out the identity of the killer.
- [18:48]
Family Representative
We are here to tell you our positive match is to WALTER Leo Jackson Sr. A convicted serial rapist.
- [18:57]
Chris Kavanaugh
Chris Kavanaugh is the U.S. attorney for the Western District of Virginia. He says the development in forensics is why Jackson was found to be the murderer.
- [19:07]
Sarah Reed
It was in my assessment that without.
- [19:09]
Chris Kavanaugh
A forensic link to the perpetrator that.
- [19:12]
Sarah Reed
This crime may never be solved.
- [19:13]
Chris Kavanaugh
At the time of their Deaths, Lolli was 26 years old and Julie was 24 years old. They would be 54 and 52 if they were alive today. 28 years ago, the families were desperately searching for answers.
- [19:27]
Narrator/Reporter
Finding their killer can provide us and all of those who mourn their deaths some sense of peace and help with our grief. Finding their killer can also help to return the woods to. To some semblance of safety and tranquility for everyone who enjoys the beauty of the outdoors and all the activities that it has to offer.
- [19:45]
Chris Kavanaugh
But finding the killer doesn't bring Lolli and Julie back.
- [19:50]
Family Representative
We know there's nothing we can say today that will ease their pain. We do, however, hope that this information will help move the families forward in the healing process.
- [20:00]
Chris Kavanaugh
The two will be remembered for their love of nature and their love for the people around them.
- [20:06]
Family Representative
Lollie and Julia were genuine, authentic and caring people. They volunteered in their communities, worked hard in school, and we know they absolutely loved the outdoors. Their murders were a deep loss for their families and friends. No one can begin to imagine the pain Lolly and Julie's families have endured for the last 28 years.
- [20:30]
Chris Kavanaugh
Jackson was serving a 20 year prison sentence in Ohio before he died in 2018. However, if he was alive today, Kavanaugh says he felt confident that a jury would unanimously find him guilty of two counts of first degree murder and two counts of aggravated sexual assault. Working hard for you, Mike Staley, whsv.
- [20:52]
Sarah Reed
It was truth that came decades too late. The news was both a revelation and a heartbreak to the families. But this final chapter had arrived long after justice could. Because Walter Leo Jackson Sr. Had died in 2018, never being questioned, never being charged. There would be no courtroom, no testimony, no reckoning. Only a name. Still, that name carried a rare certainty. A 1 in 2.6 trillion match. And for the first time in nearly 30 years, investigators and families could finally say it out loud. They knew who had killed Julian Lawley. But even in that moment of truth, something else lingered. A question about the cost of being wrong. For so long. And the lives altered in the space between suspicion and proof. At Unity College in Maine, Lawley's absence is still felt. Author and professor Katherine Miles once said the case haunted the community. That for those who loved Lale, the news of a suspect brought no sense of victory, only the ache of what never got to be. The Shenandoah park murders changed how the Park Service talked about violence in wilderness spaces in 1996. Rangers weren't trained for homicide investigations, especially ones that brushed against hate crime speculation on national headlines. After Julian Lawley's deaths, though, the protocols evolved. More ranger training, better evidence preservation, and clearer communication between state and federal investigators. Shenandoah became both a sanctuary and a symbol, a place where beauty and brutality collided, forcing the park to look inward. And the ripple extended beyond the park. The FBI and Department of justice began to rethink how they handled cold case sexual assaults. Programs like the Sexual Assault Kit Initiative, the same one that finally cracked this case, were built to ensure evidence like Julie and Lawley's would never again sit forgotten on a shelf. And yet, the emotional legacy runs deeper than any reform. For many in the LGBTQ community, these murders became part of a quiet lineage of loss, a reminder of how unsafe love could feel in the Open. In 1996, both women kept their relationship private, knowing what visibility could cost them. Their story still resonates because it mirrors the experience of so many who longed for freedom, only to find danger waiting nearly three decades later. Their families have said little publicly, but those who knew them remember what mattered most. Julie and Lolly loved nature. They loved each other. And even after everything that happened, people still return to those same trails, not out of denial, but out of devotion. Because the mountains still hold their story. Shenandoah is still what it's always been. Breathtaking, wild, and unpredictable. And somewhere among its ridges and streams, the echoes of two young women's laughter are still carried on the wind. Even now, one question. Could Walter Leo Jackson have acted alone? Julie Williams and La lli Winans were strong, capable women, both extremely experienced in the backcountry. If he attacked one, it's hard to imagine the other not fighting back. The bindings were precise. The scene was deliberate. Investigators believe a weapon may have been used to control them, a detail that matched Jackson's pattern, but suggested something colder. And that's the thing about this story. It's not just about one man's violence. It's about what it means to feel safe and how easily that illusion can flip fracture. There's a question often asked of women that's become almost a dark joke. Would you rather run into a bear or a man in the woods? Most of us don't even have to think before answering. Because for many of us, the wild isn't what's dangerous. People are. In the mid-1990s, at least eight people were murdered in and around Shenandoah and the Blue Ridge Mountains. Some, like the Colonial Parkway victims, one of Virginia's most haunting serial murder investigations, remain unsolved. For years, investigators wondered whether the same person could be responsible. That terrifying possibility has never fully disappeared. Maybe that's why this story sticks with me, because the wilderness has always been kind of a mirror, one that shows us who we are when everything else falls away. It's supposed to be a refuge, a reset. But for too many, especially women, queer people, and anyone who's learned to move through the world on alert, safety isn't a given, it's a negotiation. Julie and Lale came to Shenandoah seeking stillness. They found beauty, love, and the quiet that only a mountain can give. And even though their lives were stolen, their story continues to echo, leaving a reminder of what was lost and what deserves to be protected. They should have been safe here. We all should be. To Julie's family, to Lolly's family, to the investigators, journalists and hikers who kept asking questions, thank you for holding on to this story. And to you, our listeners, thank you for walking with us through it. If you found meaning in Sequestered, please rate and review the series. It helps more people find these stories. And if you'd like to see more from this case, full video coverage, photos, articles and behind the scenes details, visit sequesteredpod.com I'm Sarah Reed. Thank you for listening. Sequestered is created by Sarah Reed and Andrea Clyde, hosted and produced by Sarah, 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. Not.