Maine Unsolved: Mary Ellen Tanner, Part One
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I'm Kristen Sevey. This is Murder, She Told. On Sunday, July 9th, 1978, Lori Cray and her cousin went to Gracie Evans Field, a grassy meadow in Lyman, Maine, just 15 minutes from Walker's Point, where the Bush family had vacationed for generations in Kennebunkport, but a world away.

The field was just over the line from the popular resort town of Kennebunk, Maine. She basked in the sun and watched the Thunderbird skydivers entertain crowds with their weekly jump. Despite the scorching hot weather in July, families and teens bore the swelter to view the team in action. The children stared at the sky in awe of the men flying through the air like superheroes.

At 3.30 p.m., Lori fanned herself as she watched the plane climb, expecting it to continue until it reached a suitable altitude for them to jump. But the plane didn't go to its typical 10,000 feet. Instead, it leveled off and began circling the field. The crowd seemed puzzled, and Lori heard murmurs of questions and theories.

Maybe they were having mechanical problems. Perhaps one of the skydivers had become ill or had gotten cold feet. The young pilot of the Cessna 180, Dan Allo, a 22-year-old from Old Orchard Beach, had just taken off about two-thirds of the way down the dirt runway. He pulled the nose of the plane up to clear the evergreens that lined the perimeter of the field. With the plane climbing, he would see little but the sky through the front window of the cockpit.

Dan later recalled, "...I glanced out the side of the window at the ground to get an idea of how high I was. That's when he spotted something on the ground. It was only a quick look because he was preoccupied with the plane, but he thought he saw a person, naked, lying motionless in the grass. Had it just appeared? It was his second day of flight, and he hadn't noticed it during their first run."

He thought perhaps it was just a prank. There was a tradition of guys mooning the pilot during their skydiving club. He asked his companions to take a closer look. They thought it was a dead deer. He took another lap around the field in the sky above, peering at the strange, pale spot. He decided to bring it down to investigate.

Dan landed the plane and walked through the six-inch grass of the field. They couldn't see anything but the waves of the grass in front of them as they carved a path through the early summer growth. It was the smell that hit them first. As they moved closer, the odor of something rotting overwhelmed them. Dan later recalled there were flies everywhere.

A young woman, almost totally nude, lay face down in the grass, her light brown hair falling to one side of her. He could tell that she was petite, but bloated from decay. A gold necklace lay in the grass beside her. Tire tracks in the grass led away from her body, into the distance.

The crowd of people became restless standing in the 94-degree heat in the afternoon sun, and Lori had the feeling that something was wrong. After an hour had passed, she and her cousin got ready to pack things up for the drive home. But before anyone could leave, she spotted a man approaching. In a clear, loud voice, the man introduced himself as Dan Ello, the pilot of the Cessna.

He told the group he'd found a girl lying dead in the field, and they should probably go home. Lori watched as panic swept the crowd. Are you crazy? You must be pulling our leg. Lori wanted to know who the girl was and what happened, but he had no answers for her. Dan went to Rodney Hammond, who lived near the field, and asked him to call the police. Rodney Hammond, a state trooper, and Corporal Robert Pelletier responded to the call and drove down.

They first questioned Dan and the other Thunderbird skydivers before allowing them to leave the site. Dan then flew the plane back to the Sanford airport, just a few miles west of the fields. On his way, he couldn't shake the image of the young girl and the smell of death.

The jurisdiction of the field was a little tricky. It was technically in Lyman, Maine, a tiny town with less than a thousand people, which was in York County, and was the responsibility of the York County Sheriff's Office. But in the case of a homicide, the Maine State Police would take the lead on the case. To complicate matters, it was just over the line from the more populous Kennebunk, Maine, which had their own police force, and they would be intimately involved as well.

Don Smith, with the York County Sheriff's Office, was on the scene promptly. The field was just five minutes from his house. He was soon joined by Robert Pelletier with Kennebunk PD and Rodney Hamill with the state police. 32-year-old Corporal Robert Pelletier recalled, "'It was hotter than a firecracker.' They searched right away for some identification, but there was nothing, and none of the cops recognized the girl."

The bloating had transformed her appearance. She had long, light brown hair. She looked young, maybe in her late teens or early twenties. The only clothing she had on was a torn top, which was multicolored, with black, green, yellow, and brown stripes. It's been described over the years in the newspapers as a jersey and a blouse and a scrap of shirt.

Near her body was a garment described as a flannel lumber jacket, which I imagine to be a soft flannel button-down. The necklace had a gold chain with a gold pendant and some engraving on it, described as both a star and a cross. There were no weapons found anywhere, and there was no sign of a struggle at the site, which led cops to immediately conclude that she had been killed elsewhere, and her body was dumped there in the field.

The police knew that Gracie Evans Field and the nearby woods were often used by teens and young adults in Kennebunk as a party spot, and they knew that there was a party that had occurred there the night before. They thought she might have been an attendee. The police believed that, given her remote, difficult-to-access location, the perpetrator had to be someone local. All three agencies kicked into high gear, making any and all resources available for the investigation.

Main State Police set up a command post in Kennebunk, very close to the town center, at the local public elementary school called Park Street School. News of the dead girl spread quickly through Kennebunk. The town took to their rotary and touch-tone phones to account for all the young people, to assist the police in unmasking her identity, and to put to bed their own fears that it could be their daughter or their sister.

The Tanners were among them. They had three daughters and a son. The two older girls were home, and the youngest, Mary, was away for the weekend in Waltham, Massachusetts with her grieving boyfriend, who had just lost his brother and friend in a fatal car accident. They knew it was not their child who had turned up in the field.

After the police finished documenting the crime scene, the woman's body was loaded up on a gurney, placed in an ambulance, and driven to the Augusta General Hospital, 90 miles to the north, where the state's chief medical examiner had his office. Dr. Henry Ryan unzipped the body bag and went to work, performing an autopsy examination, making a startling discovery. The woman was three months pregnant.

He couldn't determine the sex of the unborn child. Investigators immediately wondered if the early pregnancy was related to her death. Because of the state of the body, Dr. Ryan was unsure if she had been sexually assaulted. Given her state of undress, it was likely she had. Perhaps it was even a sexually motivated crime.

The girl was covered with many superficial cuts and bruises. The most serious injuries were the many cuts to her scalp and blunt injuries to her head, back, and neck. He later told the York County Coast Star that he believed the blows to her head caused her death and that it was possible the first blow had rendered her unconscious. He estimated that she had died within the past two days, and he ruled the manner of death as homicide.

He put together a detailed description of Jane Doe and gave it to the police and the press. Five foot four and a half inches tall, 125 pounds, white, with light brown hair and light colored eyes. He estimated she was between 17 and 23.

Kennebunk Police Chief Frank Stevens was furious. He immediately assumed that Jane Doe was a resident of the town, and he took his anger out on the community. In an interview with the newswire service UPI, he said, "...parents aren't raising their children with any self-respect. We've tried to warn them. This murder is the product of the raw goods some of the parents around here have been producing."

He didn't spare the children from his opprobrium, saying that their lack of virtue resulted in them not respecting anything else either. He said that many local parents with young daughters had called him in the last 24 hours following the discovery, wondering if it was their own daughter.

And to them, he said, it's obvious many people don't keep track of their children. The kids around here have become just like animals. They live in the woods. They eat like animals. They just don't have the respect and value for human beings that kids had 30 years ago when I joined the force. And he speculated on the future, saying, murder may become commonplace here like the other places.

I'm afraid it's gonna get much worse, not better. Chief Stevens had taken a Polaroid snapshot of the decedent with him as he walked through town, asking anyone if they knew who the young girl could be. To the horror of some parents, he showed the macabre image to other youths in the community. Some as young as 15.

In the recent memory of the town and Chief Stevens was the unsolved murder of Mary Olenchuk. In the summer of 1970, eight years prior, a 13-year-old girl was found in a deserted Kennebunk barn on a large property. A thin rope, wrapped around her neck many times, had been used to strangle her to death.

People believed that the killer was local. The rope that killed Mary was predominantly used in the lobster industry, an industry near and dear to Maine. And the location where the body was left was the type of spot that only a nearby resident would be aware of. Her body was found just 10 miles away from Kennybunk's Jane Doe.

Mary Olenchuk was quickly identified as a child in a powerful family who summered in southern Maine in the resort town of Agunquit. Because her father was a two-star Army general, the highest levels of law enforcement, including the FBI and the Army, were involved with the investigation. Despite their enormous efforts, it was never solved.

She was last seen getting into a maroon car, perhaps a 1967 Chevy, in a gunkwit. The driver was described by witnesses as a white male in his mid-30s, wearing dark clothing. People wondered if the mysterious killer had struck again, but that was not the only crime in the minds of Kennebunk residents.

In the same newspaper articles that reported the murder of Jane Doe, there was another shocking revelation. Just one week prior, another young woman, who was not identified by name, was the victim of a brutal beating and multiple rape that happened in the early morning hours of June 29th, and it happened in Sanford, Maine, just 10 miles from Gracie Evans Field where Jane Doe was found.

She survived and went to the hospital later that morning. The 18-year-old girl described her attackers as three young men who had forced her into their large, dark vehicle and then had taken her to a remote sandpit. Police were quick to say that there was no apparent connection between the crimes. On Monday, the day after she was found, Chief Stevens got a lead on Jane Doe's identity.

Two young women, Debbie D'Tesso and Jackie O'Keefe, recognized from a TV broadcast the gold chain necklace that was found next to her body. It belonged to a friend of theirs, a friend they hadn't seen in a couple of days. The exact sequence of events of what follows has been reported different ways.

Kennebunk Police Officer Robert Pelletier knew the family and went to their home to break the news that the police believed their daughter was the victim the town was desperate to identify. Charles Sr. was actually out looking for her when Officer Pelletier knocked on the door. Shirley Tanner, the mother, was the one who answered and got the news.

Charles Sr. later said in an interview in 1996, "'I remember pulling up to the house after getting back from my search and seeing two or three cruisers in the driveway. Jane Doe wore a lower retainer, and they wanted to get the dental records of their daughter for comparison. So the Tanners got a hold of her dentist, Dr. Ross Wyman, late Monday night and had him pull her file. They were a match."

Their oldest son, Charlie Tanner Jr., who lived in Portland, rushed home to be with his family. He later recalled that it was Dickie Bibber, a Bibber Memorial Chapel, a local funeral home, that came in with a positive identification. Charlie said of the moment, "'Poor mom. Dad had to be stoic. It was devastating.'" The victim was Mary Tanner, their youngest daughter.

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She grew up in Kennebunk at Cat Malsum Road with her parents, Charlie Sr. and Shirley, and her older siblings, Charlie Jr., Beth, and Gail. They were close to downtown, just a one-mile walk to the Malsum River Bridge at the center of town. Charlie Jr. was the eldest of the siblings, 32 years old at the time of her death. He was living in Portland and had started a family of his own with a two-year-old son.

Beth, four years Mary's senior, was off at college in Orono at the University of Maine, but was home for the summer. And Gail was living at home, just two years older than Mary, and working in nearby Wells, Maine. The Tanner children were almost done growing up. Mary just finished her junior year at Kennebunk High School. She was one of the older children in her grade because she'd been held back one year when she was in elementary school.

Though she was an average student in her academic performance, she excelled in other ways. From a young age, she was a baton-twirling majorette. A photo of Mary from when she was about 10 years old shows her in the parade through town. She's amongst her peers, marching patriotically in matching military-inspired majorette uniforms.

She continued with the majorettes, confidently wielding a baton, leading the band, and marching in the parades throughout her adolescent years into high school. Doubtless, there were dozens of costumes she wore over the years in the Tanner house. And as a high schooler, she was part of the school's gymnastics team and glee club.

She learned hundreds of choreographies and executed them with precision while exuding joy. She was active and physical and funny. She had an unfussy style with her 70s center-parted dirty blonde hair, lightened by the sun. Her trademark was to wear a blue and white bandana on her head. Her father's working kerchief, her mom liked to call it,

She was the youngest in the family, and they were her audience. She just wanted to entertain and make the room laugh. Mary performed skits in front of her family, like imitating her mother, a psychic who read tea leaves. Mary picked up the family's Siamese cat and pretended to give him a reading. She held up the cat's tail, held his rear end to her ear, and listened carefully.

Yes, I think he's feeling sad today. Mary gave him another reading. Yes, I think he wants to play the polka. She then proceeded to play the cat like an accordion while humming a tune. The cat pushed against Mary's chest, fighting to escape. Oh, Miss Red, the cat wants to be put down.

Another time, Gail recalled how she picked up their big orange cat with a belly like a balloon. She held him on her chest with his paws outstretched over her shoulder. When she would squeeze the cat's belly, it made a sound that she could somewhat control. She would walk around the house, playing the cat like a bagpipe for five to ten minutes, until either she or the cat had had enough.

For older brother Charlie Tanner, Mary, the youngest of his three sisters, was like a pet. Mary just wanted the people around her to have a good time, and she wanted everyone to be in on the joke. Her friend Tim Ames later said, she was a kind, gentle soul, everybody's little sister.

In school, she was liked by her classmates and teachers. Her school superintendent, Leo Martin, said Mary was very, very sweet and soft-spoken. Tim later remembered, She was this sweet girl who just giggled all the time. I remember her in a cluster of girlfriends giggling and smiling, always smiling. Mary loved kids and was a trusted babysitter for other families in the neighborhood.

Melissa Penna said that she was the best sitter our family ever had. She took the time to read to us. She was kind, gentle, and loving. In 1977, during the summer after her sophomore year, she spent a lot of time at the local teen hangout, Glenmore Restaurant in Kennebunk, a restaurant that also had bowling lanes.

Mary and her best friend Don were making such a racket, laughing and talking, that management made a staff member, Michael Higgins, tell them to quiet down. The girls were persistent, he later recalled, and he finally had to kick them out. But they were undeterred, returning the next night without a care in the world.

Mary, Dawn, and Jackie formed an inseparable trio, and soon Michael became close friends with them. He later said they were like peas in a pod, the three of them. You'd see them most of the time. Their laughter was infectious. By the fall of 1977, Mary and Michael, who was two years her senior, began dating.

In the summer of 1978, she got a job waiting tables at Glenmore alongside Michael, and in April of that year, became pregnant with Michael's child. They went to her junior prom together in May. One of the last known photos of Mary was from that prom. Mary was a free spirit. She loved to party and make people happy. She, like most teenagers, hitchhiked around town,

There was something childlike about her, and a ruthless killer had taken advantage of her naivete. A Kennebunk resident, Marilyn Welch, put into context the turbulence of the 70s

It was a time of upheaval in our societal structure. For our generation, all that had come before was upside down. The busing riots and police hosings during civil rights marches were traumatic events for our eyes to witness and become disillusioned by as a result. We were rebellious, as we were rather lost and sad as the values that we had been taught were not evident in our eyes. Who were the good guys anymore?

After she was identified, police went to work right away to piece together the final moments of her life. Her body was discovered on Sunday afternoon, and her last known sightings were two days prior, on Friday, July 7th. There was a huge Kennebunkport town celebration on the afternoon of the 7th called the Dump Parade, and Mary wasn't about to miss it.

She had tied her dad's blue and white bandana around her head and left the Tanner home around 4 p.m. The last thing she said to her parents was a note of gratitude. She was grateful that her father was willing to drive her at 5 a.m. the next morning down to Waltham, Massachusetts, to be with her boyfriend and his family for a funeral. And she said she wouldn't be back late.

What began as a silly joke years prior had turned into a full-fledged parade and town celebration. The Kennebunkport Dump Association annual festival, the Dump Parade, was a satirical celebration of the days when town dumps were places to meet and gossip and search for treasures. Parade goers would wear garments made of toilet paper, dresses out of fishnets, and hats out of bottles and pipes.

It featured a beauty contest for the Dump Queen. Local businesses looked forward to the event every year, saying it was the busiest weekend of the summer season. It was dubbed the trashiest event of the year in Kennebunkport.

An article from the Biddeford Journal-Tribune in 1978 chronicled the event. Many would-be queens pranced and danced around the swimming pool at the Chalmette Inn, including stiff competition from Miss Disco Dumpy and Man Dressed in Drag. But garbage can-clad Maria DeSantis was crowned the victor, winning the title Miss Dumpy 1978.

It was a festive time of year, and there were, quote, trash bashes all over town that went until dawn. Mary was amidst the festivities with her two close friends, Jackie O'Keefe and Debbie D'Ateso. Her best friend, Dawn, was at the parade too, and they encountered each other briefly.

According to a Modern article from 2013, Mary made her way to Glenmore, the bowling alley and restaurant where she worked, while it was still light outside, around 7 p.m. Her boyfriend Michael wasn't there. He was already in Waltham, Massachusetts for his brother's funeral.

Within a few hours, she moved spots again, this time hitching with a classmate, Linda Lawrence, to an outdoor field party in a remote spot, three and a half miles west of Kennebunkport, off Route 9, near Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge. The historical name of the spot is extremely racist, so I'll refer to it simply as The Hill.

The location, according to local lore, was ideal because the elevation of the hill gave a prime view of cars coming up the field from Route 9. And if Kennebunk's finest were to arrive, the kids would have plenty of notice to scram. Kids parked their cars in the field and played music. A range of ages were present, from late teens to adults.

Alcohol flowed freely, and considering it was 1978, there was likely no shortage of marijuana and LSD. The party at the Hill is hotly contested, though there are multiple versions of what happened. For this episode, we've stuck primarily to news accounts from 1978 to inform our understanding.

It was getting late, and Mary knew she had a very early morning upcoming to get to Massachusetts on time for the funeral. Around 11.30 p.m., Mary was ready to go home, but she couldn't find a ride straight home, which was about five and a half miles away due north. She figured she would have a better shot at finding a ride from the nearest town center, where Kennebunkport and Lower Kennebunk Village meet, at an intersection called Cooper's Corner.

Although the route was longer, she figured she would have no trouble getting a ride from there, especially considering how many partygoers would be out and about because of the dump parade festivities. She got a ride from the party at the hill, which was still ongoing, to Cooper's Corner with her friends Jackie and her sister Candace. Once they got there, the two girls headed their separate ways, leaving Mary on her own.

Mary got a ride to Kennebunk Village, the town center that was just a mile from her home. The driver that brought her there has never been identified. It was about midnight, and she was standing on the bridge over Malsum River in Kennebunk Village, looking for a ride that would take her the final mile.

A high school student who was a fellow majorette recalled seeing her thumbing her ride. Though she felt bad for Mary, especially with her being out so late on her own, their car was full and they were heading in the opposite direction, so they drove on. They had a change of heart though and after a short time turned back, planning to get her home somehow. But Mary was nowhere to be found. They assumed that she'd gotten a ride with somebody else, so they went on with their night.

This fleeting encounter on the bridge in Kennebunk Village was the last time that Mary was seen alive. If you have any information about the murder of Mary Ellen Tanner, I urge you to come forward and speak with the Maine State Police Major Crimes Unit South at 207-624-7076 or leave a tip at the link in the show notes.

Thank you so much for listening. If you are loving Murder, She Told, I want to encourage you to share it with a friend. If you want to support the show in another way, there's a link in the show notes with options. Follow Murder, She Told on Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok.

Head to MurderSheTold.com for a detailed list of sources and photos from this episode and more. Thank you to Byron Willis and Zoe Stockwell for their writing and research, and Sophie Ricker for her research support. If you have a case suggestion or a correction, feel free to email me at hello at MurderSheTold.com. I'm Kristen Seavey, and this is Murder She Told. Thank you for listening.