In Cold Blood
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It was late, past midnight. The moon was nearly full, and its pale ghost light spread across the great, dark Nebraska plains. Not quite enough to see much of anything. The moon had no competition. Not out here, so far from the polluting light of a city or town of any size. A few farm buildings caught in the muted glow through black moon shadows. And all around was silence. Almost silence.

It was a pickup truck by the sound of it. Tires crunching over gravel, headlights poking at the night along the country road, as if the driver was looking for something. And there it was, rising out of the dark, a farmhouse. The pickup slowed down, turned in. The driver looked at his companion. This was the place. They gathered up their tools, got out,

gently, gently shut the truck's doors and walked across the yard. It was a big two-story place. Old, established. Even in the moonlight, it showed off a little. Like people cared about this house, about appearances. Was anyone home? Maybe, maybe not. No sign of life, no movement inside. No dog barked. One of them made a decision. They would not enter through the front door, as family would.

But in quick order, they found a window unlocked. So here it was, the way inside. No turning back now. This is a story about fear. I was sitting up in bed and I said, Andy, should I be shaking? And he said, that's normal. The shock. The fight, flight or freeze kind of fear that grabs you by the throat. So there was a real, genuine itch in your back that somebody was going to come after you.

And it's a story about certainty. Certainty, right or wrong. And it's about a secret hidden far, far away and all but forgotten. A secret that waited for the one who could find the golden key.

I'm Keith Morrison, and this is Dateline's newest podcast, Murder in the Moonlight. Episode 1, In Cold Blood. Less than an hour south of Omaha, the prairie takes on a sweet rolling pitch as it tucks into a Nebraska corner. Here, the rich black topsoil has grown not only untold bushels of corn and soybeans and stands of alfalfa, but also a lot of food.

but also generations of solid and faithful Americans, a tiny remnant of whom, fewer than 300 or so, planted themselves in a small town called Murdoch, sort of place where heads turn when a stranger drives by. Murdoch began, as did many towns like it, in the late 1800s, as a stop on the railroad, when the tracks of the old Chicago, Rock Island, and Pacific were extended to this very spot.

If you've ever gotten off the interstate and driven America's blue highways, those roads less traveled, you've surely passed through many towns just like Murdoch, Nebraska. The railroad is still there, of course, with an elevator and water tower, Murdoch's skyline. Here, junior and senior high schools share the same building, and there are more houses of worship than taverns, though the bar stools are about as worn as the church pews.

a few miles away, this way and then that down the gravel road outside Murdoch, in a big farmyard, on one particular Sunday, there was an Easter egg hunt, just like there was every year. That year was 2006, the 16th day of April. The grandkids ran around their yard. It was Grandma and Papa's yard.

or mom and dad to Tammy, who was 30 years old by then, and brought her own son, of course, like always, to join the many grandkids and nieces and nephews. They found their Easter eggs. They found their Easter baskets. And mom always made every individual Easter basket special to that child. Mom was Charmin Stock. Her husband, Wayne, was Dad.

They were the fifth generation of Starks to work this land, the lifeblood from which their blessings sprang. The land, their land, was as holy to them as any religious relic or sacred chalice could ever be. Charmin was 55, Wayne 58, and they were generous and steady and always there for their children. The kind of people for whom the phrase salt of the earth seemed perfect. Don't think they ever missed a game of any of ours. That would always stop farming just to...

The Starks also had two sons. Steve, the tall and quiet one, was 38 back then, and Andy, the youngest, sturdy, baby-faced, was 27. This is Andy. They were loving parents. I remember both of them just always saying, live life to the fullest. Just live life. They did. Every day.

"'Wayne Stock, Dad, had a degree in building construction. He was a former member of the National Guard. He and Charmin ran the Stock Hay and Grain Company, and a very successful business it was. The Stocks owned a thousand acres of land, along with rental property.'

Family was everything to Charmin's doc. Everything. She stayed home when the kids were little, but when the youngest went to kindergarten, she took a job as a teacher's aide at their country school. Did it for 17 years, until it was time to take care of her own elderly mother. Is it busy people? Very. They touch the lives of so many people.

They were good examples to all of how to live moral, godly lives with high standards. One thing I always heard from Mom was, take responsibility for your actions. Be responsible. She would praise you and just keep pushing you to do better. She always wanted us to be better people. And that included keeping the house meticulously clean for company, as she did on that Easter Sunday, her last day on this earth.

When they went to church and then put on a big family dinner. And the highlight of it all, the Easter egg hunt for the grandkids. This is their son, Steve. At least we got that one day. My kids remember it. They talk about it all the time. I suppose as the last days go, that wouldn't be a bad one. No, it wasn't. Except, well, except their youngest wasn't there.

Not that Andy didn't love the farm and its rituals much as any of them. In fact, they all figured he'd be the one to take over the place one day. But that Easter Sunday, he'd agreed to spend the day with his future in-laws, and so he missed the party. But he left his young puppy with his parents for the day. He said he'd pick up the dog that night. Called Mom and Dad, I want to say about 9, 9 o'clock that night. I'm already home, and...

So I'm going to come get the dog and get him out of your hair for a little while. It was past dark when Andy pulled up to the old farmhouse to pick up his dog. So I came in about, I want to say 9.30, 10 o'clock, if I recall, that night. And they met me on the deck on the back of the house. And we talked about Easter and what they did and played with the dog a little bit. And Dad and I were going to start planting corn the next day.

And so we talked about the farm a little bit and they each gave me a hug and I went home. As you remember that moment, it makes you feel pretty emotional, doesn't it? Yeah. The next morning, Andy drove the half mile from his place back to his parents' farm, ready to go to work. Spring planting awaited. I drove in and I went in the shop on the farm and dad's pickup was there, which I thought was a little bit strange. Normally he went to the post office

about nine o'clock every day. So I thought, well, you know, maybe he's not gone yet or maybe he took mom's car to put gas in it for the day. Confusing. He walked across the farmyard to the house and went inside. Had some paperwork for dad. Went in the house, laid it on the kitchen table, turned around and left. Looking back, I thought it was strange. There was no coffee made. But at the time...

I didn't connect. Went to the shop and getting things ready for the morning. Got to thinking that, you know, it was kind of strange. There wasn't a lot of movement around. The back door was open, but the screen door was shut. Didn't connect with that. Went inside again and, you know, didn't really see anything unusual, I guess. I think I tried to call Dad's cell phone. He didn't answer. And that's when I thought, well, where could they have gone?

Picked up the phone in the house, thought, well, I'd try him again. And there was no dial tone. And that's when my heart kind of sunk. I guess that for some reason was a little bit of a trigger in my mind. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Thought, well, I better go upstairs. As I started up the stairs, there was some blood on the walls and whatnot. And, you know, I knew it was bad. But really, he had no idea what was going on.

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It was perhaps the central moment in the life of Andy Stock. When he rounded the staircase that morning, in that farmhouse he knew so well, the one he'd grown up in, and saw blood on the walls. It's got to be surreal to a moment like that. I mean, could you... Does your mind even register? No. You know, I don't... I think, good Lord, for Texas. Yeah. My body's kind of going to shock, I think. Yeah. And, uh...

But, you know, even at the time I saw the blood in the stairway, I thought, well, gosh, maybe something happened and they left in the ambulance. You know, they wouldn't have wanted, they said, oh, we'll call in the morning. You know, it wasn't that bad. So, you know, that was kind of my process of thought, I guess, at that point. Until I rounded the corner and saw Dad laying there on the floor. It was a horrible thing. There is only what came before.

And what came after? What did you do when you found them? I never made it past the landing. My cell phone was out my pickup and just turned around and went out of the house. I went to call for help. That's all there was. Never went back in. Didn't see your mother's body? No. No. Didn't know where she was at. Didn't know if she was home. Didn't know. The ambulance was there in 12 minutes, the first lawman in 20. Andy stood outside next to his pickup truck in shock.

calling family without even knowing what happened or what to say. Andy's sister, Tammy. Andy's wife and I work together. She answered the phone call, and she didn't even recognize Andy's voice. Didn't even know. She came in the back and said, Tam, something's wrong. Andy just called and said, come quick. Dad's laying in a pool of blood. But like the rational farm folk they were,

30 miles away and close to the nearest hospital, they did not assume the worst, even when they tried to call Andy back, and he didn't answer. By 11, 1 and 30, both Cass and I were both like, something is really wrong. Something is wrong. And the minister called and said, you need to come home. And I said, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong. And they said, you know, I'm dead. I've been killed.

I think I did start screaming and we headed towards the farm to be with Andy. Never in a million years would you think that you'd see your parents' house taped off, the farm taped off by that yellow tape. The crime scene people had taken over the house. It was they who saw the worst of it. They found Wayne on the upstairs landing, dead of a shotgun blast. Pretty much point blank. Charmin was in the bedroom. A shotgun got her, too.

She was still holding a telephone in her dead hand as if she had been trying to call for help. It was stunning. The Starks were the most unlikely victims anyone could imagine. The Cass County Sheriff knew right away, of course, it was going to be big news. So he advised caution. Do not jump to conclusions, he said. Right now, this is an unsolved homicide. Whether it's somebody local or somebody from another town, we don't know at this time.

As Andy Stock waited for his siblings to arrive, he struggled to process it all. As his father's words echoed in his mind. I'll never forget July of 05. Dad and I were working together. We were standing there and he looked at me and he said, son, he said, when it's my day to go, he said, hold your head high, keep living life. I'll never forget that.

But it was all happening so fast. Wayne and Charmaine Stark had been gunned down in the safety of their own home, in the sanctity of their own bedroom. Why would anyone want them dead? And who? The investigators asked us a whole bunch of questions. What? I can't. I don't remember. And I think at that time, I think Indy's right. You go into shock. Yeah. You...

I don't remember conversations. I don't remember how. I've tried to figure it out, how I got from talking to the investigators, and the next thing I remember, I was at Andy and Cassie's house. And then from there, we went to Grandma's. Grandma lived a quarter mile away. How we got there, I don't know. How long we were at Grandma's, I don't know. You pretty much just...

Andy, however, did not get to leave. He was the last to see his parents alive, the one who found their bodies in the morning, which made him, the way these things go, at the very least a person of interest. Before I even saw Steve and Tammy, they had put me in a car and took me to another town and questioned me.

Andy Stark didn't realize it at the time, but investigators were soon pointing hard right at him. After all, he was there. He had opportunity. He may have had motive. Something to gain from his parents' deaths.

After all, Andy was the already designated heir to the Stock A company, which some people might consider a family fortune. As investigators questioned Andy, CSI units were busily working the crime scene. One of those leading the investigation was a man named David Kofod. It was a very brutal crime scene. It was one of the worst I've ever seen. Kofod was the head of the crime scene investigation squad in Douglas County, way off in Omaha, a good hour away.

But the Cass County Sheriff's Office wasn't used to this sort of thing, and so Kofod was called in to help. He certainly carried himself like a man used to being in the lead. He was bald, bespectacled, a serious man, and even he was shaken by what he saw in that house. Here he is telling me about it. It was very much an execution, and there was a lot of blood impact spatter, high-velocity spatter,

fragments, and it was a biological kind of a nightmare. It didn't take but a few minutes to figure out how the killer or killers had entered the house. In the laundry room, a screen had been lifted and a window appeared to have been forced open.

From there, it appeared, the killer's route might have gone past the now empty Easter baskets that Charmin had made, through the well-kept kitchen, and then up the stairs toward the bedroom, where the Starks were fast asleep. All investigators had to do was follow four 12-gauge shotgun shells that had left a trail to the bodies.

By the look of it, the stalks woke up. Wayne tried to get up, but the killer fired a round straight into his knee. So close to him it left a huge powder burn on the bed. And fired again, hit Wayne above his eyes. Charmin tried to call 911, but then the shooter killed her too. And then, a surprise. It became apparent for a very curious reason, that it wasn't just one killer, but at least two.

With a practiced eye of a man who'd seen plenty of violent death, CSI Commander David Kofod, on the stair landing of the Stalks farmhouse, made an observation that would change the course of the investigation. When we did the blood pattern analysis, we saw a void area at the top of the steps. A void area. In other words, when the shotgun blast was fired, that is the one that killed Wayne Stalk,

The blood spattered everywhere, except where it appeared that another person had to have been standing. So the second killer was sprayed with blood spatter and like light hitting an object, it created a shadow on the wall behind it. It left a void where there was no blood. Somebody had to be blocking the blood spatter from impacting the wall and stuff. Outside the farmhouse, Kofod and his team found a wealth of evidence too.

The trick was to sort what was innocent and what wasn't. It was a big operation. There was a lot of outbuildings, and it was complicated by the fact that they'd had an Easter egg hunt the day before, so we had a lot of shoe prints and stuff. But one print stood out. It was different than the others. I saw a shoe print in the mud that was unusual by a flowerbed near the front door. And beyond the flowerbed, just like the shotgun shells left leading to the stairs...

There was another trail of evidence left by the apparently sloppy killers. In a gravel driveway, there was a marijuana pipe, and about 10 feet from it, there was a flashlight. And those two things were obviously out of place. You can sort of imagine the television show, CSI. Some guy, there's a light, oh, there's a pipe, you know? It's just too easy. But there it was. It was there, and...

I think the one thing I knew pretty much right at the beginning was that I could see, visibly see blood on the outside of the flashlight. So we knew that had to be involved. And then a real breakthrough. A newspaper carrier called in to report that he and his girlfriend had seen something odd. They'd been driving down a country road, middle of the night, when the murders occurred, about a mile from the stockhouse.

and they saw a car just parked on the side of the road. Strange cars just don't get parked on country roads outside Murdoch, Nebraska at 3 o'clock in the morning. It was tan or light brown. It was a four-door sedan, said the young newspaper carrier. And what really stuck out, he said, was that this same car later passed them in the same area that same night. And this time it was driving 60 or 70 miles an hour in a rusty way, maybe.

So there were certainly clues. The car seen by the newspaper carrier, the flashlight with what appeared to be blood on it, the marijuana pipe, and the void on the wall that told them they were looking for at least two killers. But a motive? Who knew? Not a thing was missing. No wallet or purse or gun collection was taken. There was even a safe hidden in the bedroom floor, and it was untouched.

But all that evidence, and asking questions of those closest to the Stock family, would soon pay off. Because, just a week later, there would be an arrest, a confession, and it was, indeed, from a member of the family. So the great wheel of justice began to turn, while far away, the secret remained, for the moment, quite undisturbed.

Coming up in future episodes of Murder in the Moonlight... Him and Dad kind of had a lot of falling outs. They kind of butted at us a little bit. I was upset.

Murder in the Moonlight is a production of Dateline and NBC News.

Shane Bishop is the producer. Brian Drew, Kelly Laudeen, Bruce Berger, Marshall Hausfeld, and Candice Goldman are audio editors. Brittany Morris is field producer. Leslie Grossman is program coordinator. Adam Gorfain is co-executive producer. Paul Ryan is executive producer. And Liz Cole is senior executive producer. From NBC News Audio, sound mixing by Bob Mallory and Katie Lau. Bryson Barnes is head of audio production.