Tracks Of A Wolf


Bonnie M. Wells

This story is part of the "Lookin' For A Killer" Series:

And is color coded for research purposes:

Sometimes the wolf blends into his surroundings so well that, if he stands still, he is very difficult to see, and if one only glances his way occasionally, his movements may never be noticed. Often, he can dine from the same flock for many years before an astute shepherd or shepherdess notices many of the young are missing. Every once in a great while, a guardian of the flock comes along that will remain as watchful as the mighty wolf; will watch the watering holes, the grassy fields where the flock play, the open meadows where they rest at night, and if lucky, will discover the trails by which he comes and goes; his hunger pattern and his need to feed. / BMW


The Soft Spoken Wolf

April 26th 1990: I was sitting at Civitan Park with one of my German Shepherds when I heard the low growl that warned of an approaching stranger. "That's a pretty nice dog you have there," the stranger said, and I looked up to see a bearded man standing in the darkness of the pick nick shelter. I glanced over my shoulder and took note of the Belpre police cruiser sitting only a few feet behind me before answering.

"Yes, she's very pretty. Who are you?"

I got no answer; only a question. I answered the question and asked again, “What’s your name?”

After three times he muttered “Tom.” Tom what? I asked. "Tom D." he replied.

I was pretty sure I'd heard Judy mention this guy. Seemed she said she'd dated him years ago.

But, I must have been mistaken because upon further questioning he informed me that he was divorced and had 3 children. Ultimately it turned out that almost nothing the man told me that night was the truth.

Thus was the beginning of a long nightmare.

Terri Lee Roach

Terri worked at Elby's Restaurant in Belpre, Ohio. After she was murdered I couldn't help but wonder if she had ever served Pat, Diane, Bob and me. We'd met at Elby's every evening during the time period that Pat, Diane and I were enrolled in a small business management class at the Career Center in Marietta. We always met our friend Bob at Elby's and had something to eat and drink while we visited. Usually it was late in the evening by the time we arrived and most of the customers had eaten and left long ago. We acted silly, told jokes, teased the waiters and waitresses and had a good time. Even the people who worked there usually got in on the kidding around.

My own daughter Christina had worked at Elby's after she graduated high school but by the time Terri became employed there Christina was married and living in Kansas. She was still in Kansas when I decided to take the business management course and when I opened Starlight Inner-Prizes.

Although I didn't know it in 1990 Terri Roach bore a strong resemblance to my daughter, or at least the only picture I ever saw of her did.

When I showed the picture to my husband, he thought it was Christina.

A Bolder Wolf

By July I'd forgotten all about Tom D. that I'd met at Civitan Park in April.

I'd given him one of my business cards that night because he had asked about my German Shepherds and said he'd been thinking of getting his son a nice dog.

I remember telling him he could call for an appointment and an interview.

I didn't sell my dogs to just anyone who came walking in. The people were interviewed and if everything was okay they could get a puppy from my kennel, Granville Shepherds.

July 18th, 1990: I took my mother to visit her brother John's family. Uncle John was already dead but his wife Francis was still alive as was his daughter Irene who always lived at home with her parents.

After our visit, Mom wanted to stop at Kroger's in Belpre.

As we were preparing to leave the parking spot, a red and white Ford Ranger pulled alongside my Trans-Am and the driver began motioning for Mom to roll her window down.

Mom and I looked at one another. Neither of us knew the man driving the truck.

I put her window down and asked what he wanted. He said he was from out of town and needed directions to Grand Central Mall.

I offered to draw him a map and within seconds he was standing at my window with pen and paper in hand.

I drew the map and handed it back to him.

"Where are you from," I asked. "Columbus," he replied.

I had lots of dogs in the Columbus {Ohio} area and knew quite a few people who lived there.

"Oh, that's a nice city. Where do you live?" I asked. "East side." He replied. That's vague, I thought. "So what brings you to this area?" I questioned. "I'm a construction worker," he replied.

I gunned the tranny. She was built to run and didn't like sitting in the hot sun on a parking lot, and neither did I.

"So, what's you name buddy?" I asked as I prepared to leave.

 "Tom," came the reply. And an old memory stirred, and a chill went up my spine. Mom said my voice actually changed.

"Tom what?" I demanded. "Tom D." he stammered.

"What the hell? Are you following me around or what? Didn't I meet you at Civitan Park in April? Didn't you tell me you lived in Beverly and worked on the river? Now you say you live in Columbus and work construction. What is it with you? You know your way to Grand Central Mall as well as I do. What kind of game are you playing?"

I'd already turned the Trans-Am off and was preparing to flag someone down and have them call the Belpre cops for me. I didn't like to be stalked, and I had a strange feeling that's exactly what this weirdo was doing.

But Tom D. assured me he meant no harm. He just didn't recognize me. Well, I could understand that. I hadn't recognized him either. It had been pretty dark the first time we met and he'd stayed in the darkest portion of the shelter so I really hadn't gotten a good look at him.

"How many different vehicles do you own?" he asked, as he looked the Trans-Am over.

I'd been driving my Chevy van the night at Civitan Park, because I had a dog with me.

That's why I bought the van, so I could take my dogs to dog shows and travel in comfort.

It wasn't any of his business how many vehicles I owned, so I didn't bother answering him, but I sure got a good look at the truck he was driving. And I recalled that he'd said he was on a motor cycle at Civitan Park although I had not seen a cycle sitting anywhere when I left that night.

I didn't connect the bearded stranger who lied every time he met me to Terri Roach. Perhaps I should have. I met him shortly before she was murdered and again within a couple of weeks after she was murdered. He was the only one who had come crawling from the shadows. He was the only one who appeared to be stalking me.

** It would be a few years down the road before I learned that this same man had showed up at his job with scratches all over him at the time Terri Roach was murdered!**

No one knew exactly when Terri disappeared. She was supposed to pick up her pay check from Elby's near the end of June. She never picked it up. Someone said they saw her getting into a car with some guy she called Mark, but as far as I know Mark was never found, and no one was ever able to say when this had happened. As far as I could determine "Mark" had nothing to do with her murder, wherever or whoever he was. 

That Is Not Tom D.

I dropped Mom off at her house and went straight home and called Judy to tell her that I'd ran into Tom D. again. When I described the guy to her she promptly said...."I don't know who in the hell you met, or why he's using Tom D.'s name, but I'm telling you right now, that is not Tom D. He doesn't look anything like that. He's a happily married man and still lives in the same area where he lived when we were all teenagers. That man is not Tom D."

No, he wasn't Tom D. And he wasn't Mark J. either, although he looked more like Mark J. than he did his own cousin Tom D.  But it would be quite a while before I figured it all out. Meanwhile....

The No One There Call

**September 14th, 1990**: My phone rang and I answered it. I said hello a couple of times. I could tell there was someone at the other end of the line but they wouldn't say anything. I hung up and wondered who it could have been and why they wouldn't talk to me. No one came to mind, especially the bearded stranger that I'd met in April and July, the man calling himself Tom D. He never crossed my mind. He should have:

Wild Bill

I had some furniture for sale. A man named Bill called about it. I told him he could come and look at it, and when he arrived he was a bearded man driving a red and white Ford Ranger! He started to get out of the truck. I ran across the driveway and shoved his door shut before he could get out.

 "Give me your driver’s license ...... right now!" I demanded.

I intended to see who this character was. Was he Tom, or was he Bill? The driver's license said he was Bill and he did a lot of explaining before he ever got out of his vehicle: His wife had left him, took half the furniture: He'd seen me and just wanted someone to talk to and was afraid to give me his real name because he was concerned that his wife would drag me into a divorce action! Since when can a person not speak and talk to someone without being dragged into a divorce action? I was irate.

It would be some time before I realized that the things he told me about his wife were all lies too.

Eventually Renay and I met and became friends. I actually served as liaison between him and her and their attorneys in the divorce and was the one person who was able to work out an equitable division of property between the two of them.

It was during the time period that I was assisting "Wild Bill" move from the house where he and his wife had lived that I came across all his old utility bills. At first we were going to trash them, but then the subject of bankruptcy came up and I said he'd better hang on to everything until I talked to his lawyer and found out what all he'd need. I was glad that I did because some time later I went through all those old bills and was astonished when I came to the phone bill for September 14th, 1990 because it contained my phone number! The "no one there" call had come from him two weeks before I actually met him under his correct name!

The Detective

I can't honestly say there was ever a time that I fully trusted or believed Wild Bill. His early actions had made that impossible. After I found my phone number in those old records, and after I found a few other things in his possessions that didn't look just right to me, Judy and I began working some of those old dreams that we'd written down and tucked away.

Things were looking mighty strange where Wild Bill was concerned. Eventually, after Detective John Winstanley was hired to head up the unsolved, cold cases of our area, I turned everything I'd found over to him. I'd carefully documented everything; had all the times, places, dates, and as many eyewitnesses as I could get, just in case any of it was ever needed.

And in those early days, I was just sure it would all be needed some day. But, it never was. Nothing was ever enough; ever good enough. And yet, I had the biggest mountain of circumstantial evidence ever gained by a non-professional in the history of this nation. I knew what I had, and they knew what I had.

Lookin' For A Killer

Christina returned from Kansas at the end of 1990.

In those early days of 1990, 1991 and even into 1992, I had not put all the pieces together and never once considered that Wild Bill might have been involved in things that he should not have been involved in.

By 1993 I was waking up to a few facts and by 1994 I was wide awake!

Sometimes it was the things that Wild Bill said himself that made me suspicious, and made me wonder about his extracurricular activities. Still, there were some things that wouldn't occur to me until years after Wild Bill and I had parted ways and was no longer friends.

By this time I was convinced that Wild Bill had been stalking people for years. I couldn’t determine though if he was stalking my daughter, my sister, my friends, me … or all of us!

By 1993 I had come to believe Wild Bill was stalking all of us and had been for several years.

In 1995, I learned from two of his girlfriends that he had a picture of me that had to have been taken during the Christmas parade of 1987 when Judy, Diane and I designed a Granville Shepherds float for the parade. That was more than two years before he stepped out of the shadows of Civitan Park and introduced himself as Tom D.

Like I said, it's all been reported to local police. No one ever put the pieces together. No one ever cared what he was doing to me or my friends ..... at least not here, no one ever cared.

Oh, that the wolf had not howled at our door...

We could have lived in naive bliss evermore.

And when at last, he took us away...

"Coincidence," no doubt.....they'd say.

But in their hearts, suspicions would grow...

Toward husbands, boyfriends, brothers, fathers...and all we know.

And never would they see the gray wolf, or his deadly game.

Satisfying his hungers through death and name. / BMW

Thinking Back

I remember telling Detective Winstanley, "When the end is the beginning, know that we have come full circle and the answer is trapped within."

If he bothered to read it, he in all likelihood dismissed it as nonsense. A lot of the things I say sound like nonsense, for a while. They aren't.

Terri Roach's murder was ‘the beginning’ for me.

I believe I've found her killer.

I've watched as people have been murdered on the birthdays of my husband, my mother, my dead brother, my sister and my daughter. 

I've seen people murdered on anniversaries known by me – and Wild Bill. I've watched as women were murdered who had the same first name and sometimes the last name, as my daughter, my sister, and my friends.

By 2000 I've seen (and kept track of) murder victims who had the same names, birth dates, anniversaries, etc. as women in 'Wild Bill's' life -- his sister, his girlfriend's sister, his ex-wives' sisters, etc.

It has not been easy. I have spent thousands of hours and thousands of my own dollars in pursuit of a killer. A killer that wants to possess everything that he ever had in his life, but lost. I think he wants to deprive others of those things he cannot have. He's convinced no one will notice except me.

The Native American Medicine Cards

I did some card readings one time in an effort to determine who would eventually catch our killer. The cards said it would be John Winstanley. He was represented by the "Wolf" card which stands for "teacher, path finder, and leader." Yesterday, when I did the reading he was a detective. Today he is a teacher. Tomorrow? We'll see. [see footnote **]

Meanwhile, I have a new friend named Bob. [see footnote ***] We talk about "our" cases sometimes, and just last night he asked me if I'd seen anything about the Falco case in Pennsylvania. I hadn't heard of it. I looked it up on the net and here's what I found.....

The Falco Case

Bits & pieces of information copied from various sources on the internet:


So far, no witness has emerged to say what happened to 25-year-old Elizabeth Falco, who disappeared in the early hours of Sept. 14, 1990. She was last seen pedaling a bicycle toward her Center City Philadelphia apartment after leaving the Bank, a nightclub at Sixth and Spring Garden Streets.

Her body was found a month later near Philadelphia International Airport, in a grassy area off Tinicum Avenue. The body was clad only in black, high-top Reebok's, and had been shoved partway into a green plastic trash bag.

Medical experts who examined the near-skeletal remains believe that she was strangled.

Because of the decomposition of the body, authorities were unable to determine whether Falco, 25, had been raped. Nor could they determine the exact cause of death. Although police and family members said Falco had been known to use drugs, no evidence of drugs was found in an autopsy.


Elizabeth Jane Falco grew up in Cherry Hill, where she devoted much of her time and energy to the care of her younger brothers. She moved to Philadelphia about a year ago and was out of work when she died.

Her life was unremarkable. Her death drew the attention of the medical examiner, several police detectives and an FBI agent.

Falco spent that Thursday evening {September 13th, 1990} at the Bank, a popular nightspot in a converted bank building at Sixth and Spring Garden Streets. It's an old building of stone and wrought iron, with two snarling gargoyles guarding the front doors.

Falco was last seen about 1 a.m. that Friday, pedaling her boyfriend's bicycle toward their Center City apartment.

"I knew immediately that something bad had happened," said Joanne Falco, Liz's mother. " . . . I had this terrible feeling that I had to talk to her, but I couldn't reach her on the phone."

Because she couldn't reach her daughter, Joanne Falco went to Philadelphia and to her daughter's apartment on Race Street. It was unsettling, she recalled.

She called the police to report Liz missing.

Meanwhile, her sons posted fliers across South Jersey and Philadelphia, offering a $2,000 reward for information on Liz's disappearance. A Philadelphia FBI agent, acting on a request from a family friend, also made some checks.

Nothing panned out. The bike was never found.

Paul Falco, 13, said he knew on Oct. 13 that his sister was dead. That was his birthday, he said, and he was sure she would have phoned if she were alive.

A week before Thanksgiving, Joanne Falco called Robert Kane, a private detective with Joseph Brignola Inc., Investigators & Consultants in Philadelphia.

"I felt from the get-go that something had happened to her," said Kane, who spent 13 years as a city homicide detective.

From Philadelphia Detective Neal Aitken, Kane learned of a body that had been found Nov. 14 by a man walking his dog. Kane checked its height and hair color, and got a description of the clothing found nearby, which included a jacket with the logo "Bad Boys Club."

"I called Mrs. Falco," Kane said. "Without me even telling her, she asked if it had 'Bad Boys Club' on it. I knew this was the right girl."

Kane rounded up Liz's dental charts, took them to the Medical Examiner's Office and then to a forensic dentist in Bricktown, N.J., who confirmed his suspicions. Then he drove to Cherry Hill to inform the Falco family, his investigation over.

"I was hired to locate her," Kane said, "and she was located."

What Can I Say?

Is there anything I haven't already said a hundred times or more? Did I tell everyone my daughter's middle name is Jane? Did I tell Winstanley a dozen times or more that "the no one there calls always come just before or right after someone is murdered; almost as if the caller wants me to know that he's killed someone else that I should be aware of? Sure I told him. I told the world.

Today, I still wonder - Where was Wild Bill the night Elizabeth Falco was murdered? And why did he call me a few hours later and say nothing?

This page is dedicated to the memory of

Terri Lee Roach and Elizabeth Jane Falco

Barbara Barnes / Ohio to Pittsburgh 1995

Kimberlie Krimm / 14/ Pittsburgh / 1998


Liz Falco Memorial Website

Pure Coincidence/ Homepage

Starlight Inner-Prizes / Homepage

Lookin' For A Killer / Homepage


** [2006] John Winstanley is now back with the sheriff's department and is 3rd in command; Major John Winstanley.

** [2006] The Bob I mentioned remained in close contact with me for several months. He was interested in police work, and we discussed the possibility of him coming to this area someday. However, when Dru Sjodin disappeared, Bob wrote to me and asked me to work the case [psychic work], which I did. I sent him all my work on Dru's case, well ahead of the discovery of her body. He never responded in any way, shape or form; not even when she was found and he could see for himself just how accurate my information really was. So be it. I hope he gets himself a good job someday. Hope he makes it to this area as a cop, because the day is coming when he might see something else that's amazing - maybe then he'll speak to me. Maybe I'll speak back.

**2013: John Winstanley is now retired from the sheriff’s department. None of our cold cases have ever been solved.

Special Notes:

My friends Pat and Diane are now both deceased. Diane died January 20th, 2011 and Pat died February 12th, 2013:

PS: Psychic Georgia Rudolph also died on February 12th, 2013:

"When the end is the beginning, know that we have come full circle and the answer is trapped within."

Posted/Updated: 6-27-03 / 2-15-04 / 3-18-04 / May 1st, 2006 / March 2007 / 2008 / Feb. 2013 // BMW