Justice For Tracy Gilpin
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Hey there, it's Kristen. We are looking for writers and researchers to join our small team at Murder, She Told. So if you have a little extra time on your hands or a passion for writing, check the link in the show notes for more information and to apply. And if you have any questions, feel free to email me at hello at murdershetold.com. I can't wait to chat with you. I'm Kristen Sevey. This is Murder, She Told.

On the evening of October 1st, 1986, Tracy Gilpin headed home from her babysitting job. It was warm for early autumn, and the 15-year-old felt a buzz of excitement as the leaves crunched underfoot. She had just been paid for several nights' worth of sitting and had plans to meet up with her friends at a neighborhood house party.

Tracy had recently moved to Rocky Nook, a secluded, close-knit coastal neighborhood in Kingston, Massachusetts, with her mother and siblings following her parents' divorce. The divorce and move seemed to have been a tough adjustment for her. Her name was well known to the Kingston police. She had run away from home on at least four occasions.

Her family had become used to Tracy pulling what they referred to as, quote, "'no call, no show,' staying away from home overnight without sharing her plans." The high school freshman was performing poorly in school, and she had been experimenting with drugs.

Despite these troubles, Tracy was a good kid. Although she was new in town, she made friends easily and was considered responsible enough to babysit for neighborhood children. The teen had a motherly instinct and spent a lot of her free time babysitting. She spent the rest of her free time with her friends, having sleepovers and trading jewelry.

Like a lot of teenage girls, Tracy took pride in her appearance and made sure that her dark hair was perfectly done. She also had a romantic streak. Her favorite song was Endless Love by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross, a heartfelt ballad with simple lyrics and an enduring message. She dreamed of starting her own large family when she grew up,

Tracy's sister, Carrie, older by 11 months, described Tracy as hilarious and genuine. As the middle child, she kept her siblings doubled over with laughter when she acted out soap operas with her dolls or pretended to be a character she called Karen. This is Carrie reflecting on Tracy's personality in an interview with MassLive.

You can see in her eyes, even in the pictures, that mischievous... there was always something going on in her brain. Always thinking about something, always off to the next thing, what was fun, the stubbornness. She was a wise guy. She'd always come with some sarcastic, wise remark. But at the same time, it was... she was always very, almost like motherly, even though she was younger than me, motherly and caring. She loved to babysit, she loved kids.

She was, what can I do for you? And she would bend over backwards for you, for her friends. Tracy had an impact.

Tracy smiled easily, a sarcastic smile that raised one side of her mouth while lowering the other. Tracy was smiling when she stopped briefly at home to get ready to go out. Her mother, Kathleen, could tell that she was excited about her payday and her plans for the night. She checked her hair in the mirror and then left on foot for the party, which was at the home of an older neighbor who only lived a few blocks away.

At about 10.30 p.m., Tracy left the party with a few friends. They were heading home, but she needed a pack of cigarettes, so she split off on her own down the road that connected her neighborhood with the rest of the town. The tree-lined street was dark and quiet. No one drove into Rocky Nook unless they lived there or were visiting someone who did.

But this quiet street was the only way to get to Cumberland Farms gas station and convenience store on Route 3A, the nearest place that Tracy, nicknamed Ashtray, could buy cigarettes.

Smokes in hand, Tracy used the convenience store payphone to call the woman who was hosting the party. She asked for a ride back, but the host said she couldn't leave because she was still tending to the guests at her house. Another woman at Cumberland Farms, also known as Cumbie's, offered to give Tracy a ride. Although Tracy was known to hitchhike, she turned down the offer, opting to head back to Rocky Nook on foot.

When she left the parking lot at 11.30 p.m., it was the last time that she would ever be seen alive. Tracy's mother, Kathleen, wasn't too worried when her daughter didn't come home, even though it was a school night. Tracy had a habit of staying over at her friends' houses without checking in, but she usually turned up before too long. The next day, however, Tracy hadn't shown, and a couple of her friends called her house looking for her.

By nightfall, Tracy's family was concerned. They searched around the neighborhood, driving to several of her friends' houses, growing more desperate. No one had any idea where she was. Kathleen called the Kingston police to report Tracy missing, but they had heard her name frequently enough that they didn't think anything of it. They figured that she'd just run away again and would likely come back on her own.

When Tracy still hadn't been heard from by October 6th, five days after she had gone missing, Kingston police joined her family in the search. As days became weeks, there was still no sign of Tracy. Her family posted flyers with her picture all over town and along the shore as far as Plymouth. Before her parents had divorced, her family had lived in the seaside village of Manomet, a section of Plymouth about 10 miles down the coast.

Some locals thought that she might have gone there to live with her father, Rich, who worked as a longshoreman. Rich, however, had no idea where his daughter might be. Various sightings of Tracy trickled in over the weeks, apparently hanging out at the beach or loitering at the mall.

On October 22nd, 1986, three weeks after Tracy went missing, a local woman was picking flowers in Miles Standish State Forest in Plymouth. As she made her way into the thicker patches of vegetation at the edge of the forest, she discovered the decomposed, partially clothed body of a young girl in a makeshift grave. The girl was covered in leaves, her underwear was pulled down, her pants and shoes missing.

A large boulder covered her head, which Ben severely disfigured. Although decomposition and damage from the rock had rendered the girl's face unrecognizable, Plymouth police quickly matched the body to Tracy's missing person report in nearby Kingston. When asked to view the remains, Tracy's mother recognized a piece of her daughter's jewelry. Dental records were needed to confirm the identification. It was Tracy.

An autopsy would reveal that she had been dead for several weeks and likely died the night she vanished. Her death, which was ruled a homicide, had resulted from a massive skull fracture caused by a single blow from the 73-pound rock found on her head. The police notified the family of the terrible news. This is Tracy's sister, Carrie, reflecting on that day.

There was a lot of us from the neighborhood that worked there, and when they called my name over the lobby, you could see everybody kind of pick their head up over the cubicle and look. And it was that it could be she's here, she's fine, she's alive, and there was that little bit of doubt. What if she's not? You saw that look in people's... They didn't know what to say. So Don took me down to the front lobby, and my family was there. And I came around the corner, and I saw my mother. She was crying and crying.

My heart sunk. The placement of Tracy's remains at the edge of the woods, right near the forest entrance, made it seem as though someone wanted her to be found.

Because Miles Standish State Forest was 11 miles from the Cumberland Farms where Tracy had been last seen, it was assumed that she had been brought to the location by car. The Gilpin family suspected that she had known her killer. Her sister insisted that Tracy would not have gotten into a car with someone she didn't know and would have fought against anyone attempting to abduct her.

However, in 1991, the Boston Herald would report that Tracy was known to hitchhike. It's possible that she did accept a ride from a stranger that night. She also might have been picked up by someone she knew as she walked home from Cumberland Farms. Maybe the driver had invited her to a party outside a rocky nook or had suggested a late-night adventure in the woods.

Or maybe Tracy had accepted a ride home only to realize something was wrong as the car drove in the opposite direction of her neighborhood. Another terrible possibility was that Tracy was killed elsewhere and her body was dumped at the edge of the woods and crushed by the rock. The investigation into Tracy's murder made little headway from the start. Not much was certain about what happened to her that night other than the cause of her death.

Her body lay waiting at the edge of the woods for weeks as erroneous reports of her whereabouts slowly came in. In the meantime, evidence at the scene was degraded by the elements. There wasn't a lot for police to pursue. Tracy's family prayed for answers as they prepared to lay their 15-year-old daughter to rest.

The Gilpins held visiting hours for Tracy at Shepherd Funeral Home, followed by a mass at St. Joseph's Church in Kingston on October 26, 1986, just a few days after she was found.

Her gravestone at St. Joseph's Cemetery was carved with an angel and flowers on one side and a unicorn on the other. Atop the gravestone, an open granite book read, sadly missed, forever loved, always remembered. Our memories until we meet again.

After her funeral, her father, Rich, moved back in with her mother and siblings in their home in Rocky Nook. They leaned on one another for support, navigating the grief of a world without Tracy. The Gilpin family began the tradition of holding memorial masses for her every year, commemorating her January 27th birthday, as well as the date of her death.

Sometimes, the Gilpins felt like they were the only ones who remembered Tracy. The lack of news or visible progress in her case would gnaw at them for decades. In the absence of progress, they tried their best to move forward. In February of 1988, Rich and Kathleen had another son, Shane, 20 years younger than their eldest child, Carrie.

Shane had a smile just like Tracy's, and as he grew up, he developed similar mannerisms to the sister he would never meet.

A few weeks before the fourth anniversary of Tracy's death, another Kingston girl went missing. When 13-year-old Melissa Benoit left her home on September 15, 1990, her family thought she was on her way to visit her father's gravesite at nearby Evergreen Cemetery. Melissa was reported missing later that day, and a massive ground search ensued. Over 100 volunteers joined in the effort.

Eleven days after she disappeared, Melissa's body was found in the basement of her neighbor, Henry Meinholz. Henry, who worked in a lumberyard and taught Sunday school, lived next door to Melissa on property that abutted Evergreen Cemetery. He was charged with her kidnapping and murder within weeks of her initial disappearance.

When Henry was charged with Melissa's kidnapping and murder, there was immediate speculation that he was responsible for Tracy's death as well. There were a lot of details that pointed to him as a possible suspect. Both Melissa and Tracy were slim brunettes in their early teens. Both girls were found partially undressed. Tracy had often visited the grave of a friend who was buried in Evergreen Cemetery, perhaps within view of Henry's home.

But most chilling, Henry admitted to picking up teen hitchhikers and molesting them in his car. Could he have encountered Tracy that night at Cumberland Farms? The Plymouth assistant DA said, I don't have any firm evidence that he was involved in Tracy's murder, but certainly there is enough information to take a closer look. Despite the possibility of a resolution, Kathleen expressed her hope that he was not involved with her daughter's murder.

saying, "I pray to God he didn't have anything to do with it, and if he did, I don't want to know. The man is just so bizarre." As Tracy's case was reexamined, her family once again marked her death with a memorial mass at St. Joseph's Church. In previous years, these masses had been crowded, but on this occasion, only 13 mourners attended, despite renewed public interest in Tracy's case.

Kathleen wondered why Melissa's disappearance had been treated so differently from her daughter's, pointing out to reporters that police had waited a week before even looking for Tracy, while a thousand volunteers were mobilized to look for Melissa immediately. When asked about the difference between their cases, the Kingston Chief of Police said, "'No situation is entirely the same. They were two different types of girls, and there were two different types of situations. Everything was done that could have been done.'"

Kathleen was bitter and found it hard to resist comparison. Police were looking into Tracy's case from a new perspective, but Kathleen said, "'It's sad to think that they have no clue who killed Tracy. They just screwed up royally in my case.'"

She conceded that perhaps the Kingston police were more diligent when Melissa went missing because they had learned hard lessons from Tracy's death. The huge search for Melissa may have reflected a change in department practices that was brought about in response to Tracy's case. The Kingston police didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

On Sunday, November 11, 1990, a local Girl Scout troop honored Tracy and Melissa, planting two dogwood trees in their memory in front of the Kingston Police Department. Melissa's murder two months prior had rattled the Kingston community. The innocent young girl could have been anyone's daughter, sister, or friend.

Beside Melissa's murder, Tracy's disappearance and death took on a new dimension. Speculation swirled as to whether Henry bore responsibility for her violent end. People wondered that if Tracy's murder had been solved, maybe Melissa's could have been prevented.

For Tracy's friends and family, this tree-planting ceremony must have been bittersweet. It felt unfair that the community hadn't deemed Tracy's loss worth memorializing until another little girl was brutally murdered. Her inclusion in this ceremony, though well-intentioned, may have felt like an afterthought.

Henry Meinholz was convicted of the kidnapping and murder of Melissa Benoit on November 23, 1991, just over a year after she was killed. Although police believed he was responsible for other crimes, they lacked the evidence to support their suspicions. By this point, they had told the Gilpin family that they did not view Henry as a prime suspect in Tracy's death.

Within a week of Henry's imprisonment, a rumor began circulating that he had offered information about Tracy's murder in exchange for special treatment. Supposedly, that he wanted to serve his sentence at Bridgewater State Mental Hospital instead of Walpole State Prison. Kathleen confronted authorities with this rumor and was told that no such offer had been made, either by Henry or his attorney.

With these rumors squashed and Henry ruled out as the prime suspect, Tracy's case was once again at a standstill. Kathleen refused to leave the family home in Rocky Nook, saying, "'This is where Tracy lives. I still think she might come through that door any moment now. I guess that's what keeps me going.'" Tracy's siblings felt as though the family remained in the 80s, and the idea of visiting the home she vanished from for the holidays became too painful.

Carrie, who was only 11 months older than Tracy, found her life's path altered by her sister's death. The 17-year-old had been at work when her mother came in to tell her Tracy's remains had been found. Shortly afterward, Carrie found one of the missing persons flyers that her family had distributed hanging in a local gas station. She recalled asking the clerk to give the flyer back to her, saying he wouldn't need it any longer. You always wonder why.

Not that it should happen at all, but I think you always think, why my family? Why my sister? What would she be like? What would I be like?

Carrie's grief found an outlet in her career path. After graduating high school, she earned her bachelor's degree in criminal justice from Western New England College. In 1994, at age 25, she joined the Massachusetts State Police as a state trooper. She rose through the ranks, putting in 12 years in crime scene services and earning a promotion to major. She then became deputy commander of a division that oversaw the training academy in internal affairs.

In November of 2017, Carrie, by that time a 23-year veteran with the force, was promoted to superintendent of the Massachusetts State Police following the abrupt resignation of her predecessor due to a scandal. She was sworn in by Governor Charlie Baker, who said of her,

I have the utmost confidence that Colonel Gilpin will excel as a leader of our tremendous police force. She brings decades of experience and knowledge to her post with a deep understanding of the state police at every level.

Carrie's exemplary work in law enforcement was inspired at least in part by her sister's murder. Her desire to help victims of violent crime fueled her dedication and leadership within the force. She also remained committed to finding justice for Tracy. Regarding her sister's murder, Carrie later said, It's been 30 years, but I know it's solvable. In my heart of hearts, I know that person is still out there.

In 2017, the Gilpin family offered a $25,000 reward for information leading to an arrest and conviction, an increase from their previous offer of $10,000. They hoped it would generate new leads and get new press. Speaking on behalf of her family, Carrie said, We think that there are a lot of people who know something that, for one reason or another, are afraid to come forward."

Tracy's father, Richard, sadly wouldn't live to see a resolution. He passed away in January of 2018 at the age of 71. He was interred with Tracy at St. Joseph's Cemetery in Kingston. But just two months after his passing, police received a tip that would breathe new life into the investigation.

Save on O'Reilly Brake Parts Cleaner. Get two cans of O'Reilly Brake Parts Cleaner for just $8. Valid in-store only at O'Reilly Auto Parts. The tip police received concerned a gathering in Kingston the night that Tracy disappeared. Not the party in Rocky Nook that she'd left to buy cigarettes, but another one, five miles away, hosted by a man with Coke bottle glasses named Michael Arthur Hand.

An anonymous partygoer called in the tip. According to the tipster, Tracy had turned up at Michael's party after buying her cigarettes at Cumberland Farms. Michael's name hadn't come up before in the investigation, so detectives learned everything they could about the man.

Michael had grown up in Kingston, graduating from the local high school in 1975. His yearbook picture showed a young man with the same Coke bottle glasses wearing a jacket and a collared shirt. His father was a vice principal in the local school district who had a reputation of being tough. Michael had lived with his parents in the family home on Brookdale Street in Kingston, and he remained there after they passed away.

In 2007, Michael sold the family home and moved to Troutman, a small North Carolina town with a population of 3,500. He didn't have a police record of any kind, but there was a civil suit filed against him by the Ford Motor Credit Company in the amount of $3,900. Excited by the discovery of a previously unknown witness, detectives traveled to Troutman to interview him on March 7, 2018.

Michael lived in an unkempt house on Clutt Street, a dead-end road. The investigators recognized the 61-year-old by his glasses as he opened the door to greet them. Michael was surprised to hear Tracy's name, but was willing to sit down and talk to them about what he remembered of her. Initially, he told them that he'd been familiar with her from around the neighborhood and that he'd lived briefly with her aunt, but that he hadn't known her very well.

He admitted that she'd been present at a small gathering at his house several weeks before she went missing, but was adamant that he did not see her the night of her death. When investigators asked Michael to provide a DNA sample, his story changed dramatically. As the interview progressed, he recited a meandering chain of events that unfolded the night that Tracy died.

In 1986, 29-year-old Michael still lived with his parents in Kingston. His family home on Brookdale Street was five miles from Tracy's home in Rocky Nook, in just a short drive from the Cumberland Farms on Route 3A, where she was last seen. He told investigators he'd seen Tracy on the afternoon of her disappearance, riding in the passenger seat of an orange Ford Escort driven by Henry Meinholz.

Later that night, he watched the same car take off from the Cumberland Farms parking lot, heading south down Route 3A towards Plymouth. Just then, an unnamed friend of Michael's arrived at the convenience store on a motorcycle. Michael climbed onto the back and shouted, "Follow that car!" The two took off in pursuit of the Ford.

The men stopped when they found the car pulled over on the side of the road at the edge of Miles Standish State Forest. They saw Henry emerge from the woods, carrying a shovel and a tarp. Michael's friend with the motorcycle got scared and took off, leaving Michael alone on the side of the road. Henry noticed Michael and approached him, shovel in hand.

Michael, who said he felt intimidated, claimed Henry forced him into the woods. Once there, Henry ordered him to kneel down and touch the boulder that had been found on Tracy's head. Michael claimed he moved the rock about a foot, and that he scratched his hand when he touched it, leaving trace amounts of blood on its surface. As Michael walked out of the woods, his friend with a motorcycle reappeared, and Michael rode away with him.

Frightened that he would be implicated in the situation, he didn't stop to get help for Tracy or alert authorities to what he'd seen. Michael's tale sought to pin the blame for Tracy's death squarely on Henry Meinholz, unaware that Henry had been cleared as a suspect in Tracy's murder.

Michael also claimed that Tracy made sexual advances towards him weeks before her death. He said she'd rubbed his upper leg and attempted to kiss him in the bedroom of his home. He said he had rebuffed her because he was uncircumcised, and he worried that she would laugh at him. Just a reminder that Tracy was only 15 at the time of her death.

Michael contacted his pastor, David Troutman, when his interview concluded. Pastor Troutman reported this conversation to the police at the urging of his son, who was a reserve police officer. The pastor told police that Michael had been disturbed, distressed, and desperate, and that he'd made potentially incriminating statements in their conversation.

Michael was worried that he was going to be arrested for a 30-year-old murder in Massachusetts. He claimed that he had been looking for a girl who had been taken into the woods by another man, and that while looking for her, he had knocked or thrown a rock onto the girl's head. A 73-pound rock.

When Pastor Troutman asked Michael why he hadn't gone to police right away, he explained that he'd been too afraid to think. On March 9th, 2018, a mere two days after he'd been interviewed as a potential witness, Michael Hand was arrested for Tracy's murder.

Carrie Gilpin, then-Superintendent of the Massachusetts State Police, released a public statement expressing her family's gratitude. "For the past three decades, we've remained hopeful that Tracy's murderer would be identified. The much-welcomed news of an arrest in the case leaves us cautiously optimistic that justice for Tracy is within reach. Carrie had not been involved in the investigation of her sister's murder."

Plymouth County District Attorney Timothy Cruz explained, She may be the colonel of the state police, but she is also Tracy's sister. It was important for us to treat her like a victim rather than as the superintendent. Michael Hand was held in the Iredell County Jail in North Carolina until a hearing on March 12th when he agreed to return to Massachusetts to face the charges.

As Plymouth County investigators worked to piece together the events leading up to Tracy's death, Michael's neighbors and acquaintances in North Carolina and Massachusetts reacted to the news of his arrest.

Because the affidavit supporting the murder charges against Michael is sealed, there isn't much known about the case against him. In the absence of public information, people that knew Michael began to pore over their interactions with him, searching for any hint that, in hindsight, might point to his shocking arrest. The stories shared about Michael in both Kingston and Troutman tended to paint a picture of a man whose relationships were often at arm's length.

Michael lived alone on the dead-end Clutz Street until his arrest. He lived primarily on disability pay, but also bred dogs and sold junk cars and parts to make money on the side. He liked to falsely claim that he had been a police officer in Boston until back problems forced his retirement. He also claimed that he was in the Witness Protection Program due to his police work.

Michael's neighbors in Troutman described him as an argumentative man who couldn't hold down a job. An 81-year-old woman, who was a neighbor of Michael's, had a lot to say. She said he was an opinionated Yankee with a gun collection who was always hard up for money. Although she thought Michael was a know-it-all with an attitude, she did say he was always very helpful if I needed anything. He offered to help me with my yard work. He never did it, but he offered.

His neighbor across the street said he went out of his way to avoid Michael because he, quote, really had a problem getting along with people. Although he wasn't the most well-liked, his neighbors expressed surprise at the violent nature of the charges brought against him. As news of Michael's arrest spread in Kingston, former neighbors on Brookdale Street began to share their experiences as well.

He was largely remembered as a strange man who ran a small business carving tombstones in his driveway. He was also known for his sizable gun collection, which he enjoyed firing out behind his house. Sometimes his yard would become cluttered with the junk cars that he sold. Michael wasn't a small guy, and neighbors said that he seemed to have no trouble moving auto parts weighing several hundred pounds around.

One neighbor said that Michael was definitely a creepy guy and was relieved when he moved away. But hindsight does change perspective. Christine and Tom Nava lived across the street from Michael on Brookdale Street for many years. Tom had grown up in the neighborhood with the Hand family and considered Michael a friend. He said, "'A lot of people considered Michael a little strange because he did his own thing.'"

Tom recalled an afternoon of shooting targets in Michael's backyard. At one point, a local police officer poked his head around the side of the house to see what was going on. When the officer spotted Michael, he relaxed and said, "Oh, you're with Mike? You're all set." Michael's departure from the neighborhood hadn't ended the friendship. Tom had visited Michael in North Carolina just a few months prior to his arrest.

Considering the charges of murder, Tom said, Mike's done a lot of stupid things, but I don't think murder is one of them. He's always been a good friend to me. Christine, Tom's wife, felt a little differently about her husband's friend, saying, He's always had an odd way about him. He was always very nice to me. He never did anything negative. But some people just give you this feeling that they're a little odd, and I just tried to stay away.

Christine charitably recalled that Michael had carved two granite headstones in his driveway for her when she lost her pet dog, and later, a pony. Years later, the Navas had several arguments with Michael when they built a horse farm on their property. Upon hearing of the murder charge, Christine said, Of course there's a shock factor, but I was not overly surprised, no.

Christine and Tom bought Michael's family home in 2007 when he moved away to North Carolina. The state of the property was shocking. Many of the walls had holes in them, and the floors were littered with animal feces. The basement was particularly bad.

For years, Michael had kept dogs confined there. The desperate dogs had chewed through the floor joists and parts of the wall as they attempted to eat their way out of the basement. Christine asked another neighbor, Rob Aerosmith, to help her renovate the dilapidated house.

Rob, who owned a construction company, had also grown up in Kingston with Michael. Rob was also disturbed by the state of the handhouse when he first inspected it. He said, there was a grate installed in the living room floor, a steel grate. It was creepy.

He suggested that the Navas hire a demolition crew to tear apart the home's interior. The years of filth and neglect had caused irreparable damage. Following Rob's advice, Christine had the house gutted and rebuilt the interior before selling the property to family.

Within days of his arrest, Michael Hand was in Massachusetts. He was arraigned on March 14, 2018, at Brockton District Court after a power failure forced officials to move proceedings at the last minute. Tracy's family looked on as Michael's attorneys entered a not-guilty plea on his behalf. The judge ordered that Michael be held without bail until his next court appearance a month later.

After the arraignment, Plymouth County D.A. Timothy Cruz told reporters, his statement puts him at the scene, puts his hand on a rock, and allegedly bleeding on a rock, which he subsequently states he dropped on the head of Ms. Gilpin. I'm really glad that the family now knows who the killer is, and we're going to make sure we do everything we can to get justice for Tracy Gilpin.

At a pretrial hearing on April 13, 2018, his attorney requested funds to hire a private investigator. He also asked for access to the recordings of Michael's statements made when investigators first interviewed him in North Carolina. Assistant DA Jennifer Sprague objected to this request due to an ongoing grand jury investigation and the possibility of DNA evidence.

The judge ordered that the recorded interviews be turned over to the defense by the next court date, scheduled for May 23rd, a month later. Michael was indicted by a grand jury on May 22nd, 2018, and his case was bound over to Plymouth Superior Court.

He was charged with one count each of murder, kidnapping, and assault with intent to rape a child. He was arraigned for a second time for these charges in early June 2018 and continued to be held without bail. During the year of 2019, however, the kidnapping and assault charges were dropped, and Michael's defense team asked the public to come forward with any information about other possible suspects in Tracy's murder.

As Michael Hand sat in jail awaiting trial, the COVID-19 pandemic ground the legal system to a halt. Courts in Plymouth County were closed, causing delays which were compounded by the shortage of court workers. The resulting backlog pushed some trials back as far as four years. Michael, who was not particularly well-liked in jail, was anxious to get on with the proceedings.

By May of 2022, both the prosecution and the defense had filed several motions pertaining to what evidence could be presented to the jury at trial. One motion filed by prosecutors requested that statements of innocence from Michael's interrogation be disallowed. By May of 2022, both the prosecution and the defense had filed several motions pertaining to what evidence could be presented to the jury at trial.

One motion filed by prosecutors requested that statements of innocence from Michael's interrogation be disallowed, including, quote, I didn't smash Tracy's face, and I have no blood on my hands from Tracy Gilpin, period.

In another motion, prosecution requested that the judge allow the jury to hear the testimony from Pastor Troutman regarding his conversation with Michael in the days before his arrest. The pastor told police that he didn't believe their conversation fell under any kind of privilege because it wasn't religious in nature. Michael hadn't approached the pastor for spiritual counsel when he discussed his involvement in Tracy's death.

On June 1, 2022, Michael's attorney said in court that it was indisputable that semen found in Tracy's underwear did not belong to him, nor did the DNA found on the rock used to crush Tracy's skull. The defense did not want a continuance. They hoped to prove Michael's innocence as soon as possible, as he'd been sitting in jail for four years.

A week later, however, the judge granted a continuance so that prosecution can investigate a new lead.

According to Assistant DA Jennifer Sprague, the state needed to interview two witnesses and run a DNA test that could benefit Michael's case. Sprague explained that an anonymous tip had come in claiming that another man had been with Tracy the night she disappeared. The man had refused to give DNA and threatened to invoke the Fifth Amendment, so the state obtained a DNA sample from his brother and was waiting to test it against the DNA obtained from the crime scene.

A new trial date was set for September 6, 2022. On August 8, statements from Michael's pastor were ruled inadmissible to be presented during trial. The judge also found that the interrogation conducted by police involved coercion and ruled that portions of Michael's interview were involuntary.

After his talk with police, Michael reiterated and even amplified some aspects of the story to his pastor. But because of the impropriety in the police interview, those statements, too, were inadmissible. The details of what went wrong legally during the interrogation have not been released. The defense appealed this ruling, which postponed the trial once again to October 5th, 2022.

At the time of this recording, the case against Michael Hand is still in progress, as is the investigation of Tracy Gilpin's murder. While we wait for justice for Tracy, life continues on for her friends and loved ones.

In October 2019, Kerry Gilpin announced the formation of a statewide unsolved case unit to investigate cold cases and other violent crimes. The unit would consist of five state troopers experienced in homicide investigation. These troopers would partner with the state's district attorneys, whose offices held jurisdiction over unsolved murders.

Kerry said,

District attorneys around the state were pleased at the announcement. Worcester County D.A. Joe Early said, I'm excited that Colonel Gilpin is putting resources into these horrible crimes. These families still experience a lot of pain. The creation of the Unsolved Case Unit was one of Carrie's last acts as superintendent of the Massachusetts State Police. On November 6th, 2019, she announced her retirement from the force, two years after stepping up to lead it.

Before and during her tenure as superintendent, the force was embroiled in one ethics scandal after another. It was in upheaval when Carrie accepted her promotion, and she pursued an agenda of reform with courage and tenacity.

Despite her leadership and dedication, the pushback she experienced as she worked to rebuild public trust began to grind her down. Still, she considered her time as superintendent to be the greatest honor of her professional life. Carrie gave her parting words in a letter to state police employees. "We have accomplished so much during this difficult time, and I am confident you will continue to build on this foundation." She remains extremely proud of her career with the force.

Carrie Gilpin's legacy, a dedication to the victims of unsolved violent crimes, will live on long after her career. Now a civilian, Carrie watches from the sidelines as the legal process inches forward. Meanwhile, Michael Hand awaits trial, anxious for the opportunity to prove his innocence. With investigations ongoing, it's possible new information will come to light.

Whatever arises, we hope that it leads to justice for Tracy Gilpin. Though an arrest has been made, the work on this case is not done. If you are holding on to any information regarding the murder of Tracy Gilpin, now is the time to come forward. I encourage you to reach out to the Massachusetts State Police Investigators at 508-894-2584.

This case will probably be headed to trial any day now, and I look forward to bringing you an update in the future. For more immediate updates, follow Murder, She Told on Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok.

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Thank you to Meg Cougar for her writing, to Byron Willis for his research and writing support, and to Erica Pierce and Sophie Ricker for their research support. If you have a suggestion or a correction, I would love to hear from you. You can email me at hello at MurderSheTold.com. I'm Kristen Seavey, and this is Murder She Told. Thank you for listening. I'm sending my Aunt Tina money directly to her bank account in the Philippines with Western Union. Oh!

She's the self-proclaimed bingo queen of Manila. And I know better to interrupt her on bingo night, even to pick up cash. Sending money direct to her bank account is super fast, and Aunt Tina gets more time to be the bingo queen. Western Union. Send money in-store directly to their bank accounts in the Philippines. Services offered by Western Union Financial Services, Inc., NMLS number 906983, or Western Union International Services, LLC, NMLS number 906985. Licensed as money transmitters by the New York State Department of Financial Services. See terms for details.