After our initial meeting with Jill, we learned that because of her psychic abilities, she has worked with the police on some prominent local cases and she also occasionally gives individual readings for people. Bridget and I had so many questions and were intrigued by how connected we felt to her, so we asked Jill if we could meet with her again to talk about Cheryll’s case. She agreed.
When the scheduled meeting day arrived, we gathered at Jill’s apartment. It was cozy and inviting, and sitting in her living room helped Bridget and me relax as we were anxious to ask her some questions. I was struck by Jill’s sparkling blue eyes and calm speaking voice. Though she is similar in age to our own mothers, she seemed more of our contemporary than a motherly figure. Before we said anything about Cheryll’s story, Jill explained to us how she does her work.
“I sit quietly and actually see visions in my mind or hear words and I just share them. Sometimes it’s all so random, but I’ve learned that sometimes the information that seems completely random to me actually will mean something to the people who are listening.” We nodded, agreeing that that made sense. We shared with Jill a little more about why we were so passionate about Cheryll’s case and how we have encountered many twists and turns in the journey to solve the crime. I noticed that as Jill listened to us talk, she, at times, seemed as if her mind were elsewhere. Jill sat quietly upright in her chair, occasionally rubbing her fingers against her fingernails, as if concentrating, and then began to speak. It seems that as soon as we had sat down, her mind had started racing.
“I see the number 37. It’s either from a set of numbers or the number 37 itself. And I see it as a house number that is dingy old metal and you know those small roofing nails? It’s like the number is nailed to a deteriorated piece of wood with those type of nails.” Bridget and I both had a notebook on our laps and though we were seated on the opposite ends of the quaint living room, I knew we were both writing the number 37.
“I see a shotgun style house, red brick with a porch, with white railings and those railings have peeling paint.”
“There is a man who I keep seeing who has dark hair and a thick, dark mustache. He is wearing a gray windbreaker jacket and would not have been a stranger to Cheryll. There is a grayish green sedan with a curved top and whoever killed her was a car enthusiast. He was into cars and maybe even worked on them or restored them.” We listened intently and Jill continued.
“I see Frisch’s, like the Big Boy. Someone either ate there frequently or worked there and they either know something or witnessed something.”
“I also see rabbits, like rabbits in cages, and the killer may have had some mob connections. The people that this man associated with were well-connected.”
Jill paused for a moment and as I was writing, Bridget read aloud from her notes. “Okay…so…rabbits, the mob, Frisch’s…what the heck?” We all kind of chuckled and Jill smiled and said, “I told you what I see is random.”
Jill asked, “Did anyone ever find her clothes?”
“No,” I replied. “Or if they did, the police don’t seem to have them.”
Jill continued. “I see a small suitcase like from the 1940s and it has faux alligator skin with those triangular patches on the corner. I feel like her clothes may have been put in something like that, almost like a trophy. I see them being folded up nicely and placed in that suitcase.” I have often wondered what became of Cheryll’s clothes. Were they put in the trash? Kept? I have always secretly held out hope that someone kept the clothes and someday they’d be stumbled upon by a family member. Of course, this is not known to have happened to date.
“I’m seeing a second house. It’s like a dilapidated old house in the woods. It has a porch and it’s up a driveway, in a wooded area, away from the view of the road below. And I think that number 37 could be on the front of this house, but it is more like a cabin type building. I feel like she was there. She was driven there. I don’t think the plan was to kill her at first, but she threatened to tell on him and he got upset. Whatever he used to stab her was not a knife per se. It was a tool or something he had on hand. I also see a man and a woman and possibly a third person, another man, but he may have been summoned later on. There was one of those pull string lights in the basement and it was musty and dirty down there. I see the wood steps, the kind with no backs and it’s like I’m behind the steps and I can see feet walking down the steps. I’m seeing evidence being burned in a burn barrel. And then her body was taken from there to another location, or I see it like she was here (she motioned with her hands to one side) and then she was there (she moved her hands to the other side of her body).”
“Yes, they found her outside in a wooded area.” I confirmed.
“Her dad knew this man, by the way. She recognized him because she’d interacted with him before and that might be why she wasn’t scared at first.”
I felt a tingling feeling pass through my body like it had done before as I feverishly scrawled the notes in my notebook. THIS comment above all others that day just felt significant.
“There is a woman with stringy dirty blond hair. She is rough looking. Her name is Linda or Wanda or something like that and she knows what happened. I keep hearing the ‘da’ sound at the end of her name. And I don’t feel like this crime was sexually motivated. It was like the killer was out of his mind and got off on hurting a child.”
Throughout this whole reading, Jill spoke calmly and assuredly. When she grew quiet I asked if we could ask her questions.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“Do you think there are people living who know what happened?”
“Yes I do. I recommend looking into who this Linda or Wanda person is. And Donald or Donnie. There is someone with that name who knows something about the crime or the killer. He didn’t kill her, but he helped later or he knew. He gives me the creeps when I hear his name.”
“What about the killer? Is he alive?” I asked, knowing what the answer was going to be.
“I sense that he’s dead.” With that, Bridget and I exchanged a glance that said “of course.” Jill continued. “This Linda/Wanda person is still alive though. You should try to find her. And maybe this other guy, Don/Donnie/Donald. He is sort of a greasy guy. I don’t feel that he’s passed either.”
Bridget asked the next question. “Do you think we’ll ever have the answer?”
Jill replied, “I’m sensing yes. I feel like you will have an answer and a resolution within 2 years. I see a 2 so I’m thinking it means 2 years.”
(This meeting with Jill occurred toward the end of 2019). I spoke up, “I’ve been saying that I’d love to solve this by the 50th anniversary of Cheryll’s murder and that is in two years–2021.”
“Well, there you go!” Jill said with a smile. “You girls are on to something. You’re going to solve this. I can just feel it.”
The three of us chatted a little longer and Bridget and I began to wrap up our time with Jill. As we stood to leave we both put caps on our pens and closed our notebooks, reeling from the information we had just heard.
Jill spoke. “Before you girls go, I was wondering if you could possibly help me.” Bridget and I watched as Jill leaned over in her chair and picked up a laptop computer that had been sitting beside her. We didn’t yet know it, but as Jill opened that laptop another mystery was about to be brought forth, and but not for Cheryll, Bridget and I would never have been able to solve it.