Shownotes Transcript
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and keep up with all of the stories that he releases. So here's part one of Homicide at House of Bottles. Ryan Reynolds here from Mint Mobile. I don't know if you knew this, but anyone can get the same premium wireless for $15 a month plan that I've been enjoying. It's not just for celebrities. So do like I did and have one of your assistant's assistants switch you to Mint Mobile today.
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This series contains descriptions of graphic violence and disturbing content that may be upsetting or distressing to some listeners. Please proceed with caution and consider your emotional well-being before continuing. Listener discretion is advised. It all happened on a chilly Saturday in North Dakota. February 20th, 1999 to be exact.
In Bismarck, the state's small but vibrant capital, temperatures were expected to dip to a brisk 14 degrees that weekend. But despite the cold, the city was bustling with excitement as the North Dakota High School State Wrestling Championships were taking place over at the Bismarck Civic Center. Athletes, families, and fans had poured into town from every corner of the state, bringing life and color to the frozen streets.
Wrapped in puffy down jackets and snug beanie caps, they came from Dickinson, Williston and Beach in the west, and from Valley City, West Fargo and South Fargo in the east. They traveled from small towns like Ashley and Watford City, from Harvey and Bowman, Wahpeton and Minot, arriving by car and bus, eager to cheer on their hometown heroes.
The influx of visitors filled the city's hotels and motels to near capacity, while restaurants and the local mall buzzed with energy. Among those spectators soaking up the action that Saturday afternoon was a 16-year-old high school kid named Brandon Chrisman from Napoleon, North Dakota. Brandon, also known as BJ, had arrived at the Civic Center around noon.
The drive into town had been smooth with clear roads, but the evening forecast called for scattered snow flurries. Luckily, BJ wasn't worried about the drive back. He had plans to stay the night with his older brother, Travis, who lived right there in Bismarck. Travis' three-bedroom apartment was on Rosser Avenue, a familiar spot for BJ. He'd stayed there several times before.
After the wrestling wrapped up, he'd head over to Travis' place to hang out, catch up, and enjoy the rest of the weekend in the big city. As the championships concluded that Saturday night, the wrestling fans gradually trickled out into the cold Civic Center parking lot.
Despite the brisk night air, few were in a rush to head back to their hotel rooms or call it a night. Instead, many of the out-of-towners, especially those from smaller communities with fewer options back home, were eager to explore Bismarck's more vibrant dining and nightlife scenes.
Some of them just moseyed over to Sideline Sports Bar, a one-minute walk from the Civic Center entrance. Others started up their cold minivans, cars, and trucks, cranked up the heat, and considered where to go next. That week, Britney Spears' song One More Time had just dropped from number one on the Billboard Hot 100 list, replaced now by Angel of Mine by Monica. And Cher's song Believe was at number three and still climbing.
They dispersed in all directions, flocking to popular spots around Bismarck and the neighboring town of Mandan just across the Missouri River. Hungry visitors crammed into local favorites like Denny's, The Woodhouse, A&B Pizza, Big Boy, Applebee's, Space Aliens, McDonald's, and Burger King.
And for those craving a drink, there were plenty of options. There was Buck's Bar and Peacock Alley downtown and Burnt Creek Club north of the city. And just across the bridge in Mandan, the Strip was bustling with activity where places like the Lonesome Dove and Kroll's Diner welcomed patrons looking for a nightcap or a bite to eat.
For those with local connections in Bismarck, it was also a chance to catch up with old friends. Doors were knocked on. Phone calls were made. Hey friend, I'm in town. Come on out for a drink.
Elsewhere in town, 22-year-old Ann Thompson sat alone on the couch watching TV in the modest apartment she shared with her fiancé Robbie and one other roommate at 2136 North Washington, just by the interstate. It was a quiet night with no major plans on her agenda. Her roommate was not around and Robbie wouldn't be home until after 1 a.m. as he was working a late shift at a liquor store in North Bismarck.
Anne Thompson planned to head out later to bring Robbie some food and eventually pick him up when his shift ended. Robbie's truck had been out of commission lately, so she dropped him off there earlier that day. The young couple had been together for nine months. Anne Thompson was 22. Robbie Rarick was 25. Anne took a look at what movies the Saturday evening TV lineup had to offer.
On Channel 10, a movie named Sister Act with Whoopi Goldberg was on. On TBS, the movie 48 Hours with Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy. And over on Channel 32, the movie Stripes with Bill Murray was on. At around 8 p.m., Ann picked up the phone and gave her fiancé Robbie a call at the liquor store, a place called the House of Bottles. House of Bottles?
She asked Robbie if he was ready for her to bring him some food, but Robbie told her he wasn't really hungry. They chit-chatted a bit. How's it going? Is it a busy night? Anne told Robbie she'd be happy to bring him some food at any time, and then Robbie got back to work, and Anne settled in to what she assumed was to be a quiet and unremarkable Saturday night in front of the TV.
After the wrestling championships at the Civic Center, 16-year-old B.J. Chrisman headed over to his brother's apartment on East Rosser Avenue. B.J. had visited Travis the previous weekend, and so he was already familiar with the Saturday evening routine. Travis wouldn't be home yet. He worked until 1 a.m. at a gas station and convenience store named Home Run.
Home run was way down south, near the airport. Of course, there was always a chance that one of Travis' acquaintances might be hanging around the apartment. Recently, a man had been crashing there rent-free while waiting to get his truck repaired. BJ couldn't remember the guy's name. He thought maybe Travis used to work with him.
The man wore a black cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and a brown duster long coat. One of those western jobs that hang down below the knees. The type of thing cowboys and outlaws and adventurers might wear in a western film. The cowboy had asked BJ's brother if he could stay with him for three days, but now three weeks had passed and he was still there. BJ let himself into Travis' apartment and took a quick glance around the living room. No cowboy boots, no duster long coat.
He took a stroll through the place, peeking into each of the three bedrooms. The first was Travis' room, neatly kept with his bed pushed up against the far wall. The second bedroom was mostly empty, still in the process of being turned into a computer room. And then BJ stepped into the third bedroom. It was cluttered. A pile of random belongings took up the corner of the space. BJ recognized the mess immediately. It was the cowboy stuff. Apparently, the guy was still around.
Clothes spilled out of a half-open duffel bag. A battered chair sat next to a small table. A cardboard box of music CDs was shoved against the wall.
B.J. took his overnight bag back to the living room and dropped it by the couch. Then, perhaps he flopped onto that couch, spreading his arms wide along the backrest as he took in the space with a satisfied grin. For a moment, at least, he had the pad all to himself. Not bad for a 16-year-old kid from the little town of Napoleon. This was going to be one great weekend in the big city of Bismarck.
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at around 9pm, Anne was still settled on the couch watching her movie, just sort of waiting for the clock to inch closer to 1am so she could go pick up her fiancé Robbie. Then, her phone rang. Anne glanced over, picked up the phone, and answered. Two friends of hers, Jeff and Dan, were in town visiting for the wrestling tournament. They wanted her to join them for a drink. "We're over here at Sidelines Bar," they told her. Anne hesitated, considering it all for a moment.
She didn't have any other plans until it was time to pick up Robbie and it'd been a while since she'd seen her friends. She decided a quick outing wouldn't hurt before grabbing her coat and keys and called Robbie at the House of Bottles liquor store. She didn't want him to go without dinner. "House of Bottles?" She told him she was heading out to meet her friends Jeff and Dan for a bit and asked if he wanted her to bring him some food first. Robbie assured her he was fine. He wasn't hungry.
"'Well,' she offered, "'I can bring you something now just in case you get hungry later.' But Robbie declined again. "'Don't worry about it. I'll see you at 1 a.m.' So Anne locked the door behind her and headed to Sidelines Bar and Grill, a seven-minute drive away. Across the region of Bismarck, the Saturday evening temperatures continued to drop. But indoors, inside the warm bars and taverns around town, patrons kept the chill at bay with a steady trickle of alcohol."
while Ann sat with her friends at Sidelines Bar in Bismarck. Across the Missouri River, in Mandan, a young woman named Christy was enjoying a night out at a western bar called The Lonesome Dove. Christy was out with friends and she made her usual rounds weaving through the bar, stopping to chat with friends both old and new.
The place was packed with a mix of ranchers and oilfield workers in denim, flannels, and cowboy hats, alongside younger women wearing chunky-heeled boots and spaghetti-strapped tank tops. As Christy lingered near the doorway, she spotted a familiar face walking in from the cold. The man was wearing his signature duster long coat and cowboy boots, a look she'd come to recognize. It was Sean, a friend she'd met the previous summer.
She had just seen him the week before, when the two of them joined a group of friends at a rodeo. "What are you up to tonight, Sean?" she said. The cowboy shrugged. "Just came from Buck's bar. It's dead over there, so I figured I'd see what's going on over here." They chatted for a minute, and then he gave her a nod and made his way toward the bar, where he ordered a drink called a hot damn.
About an hour later, Christie ran into him again. He was holding a nearly full glass of whiskey and coke. "I'm taking off, I'll see you around," he said. Then he downed the whole drink at once, set it down, and walked out into the cold North Dakota. Over on Rosser Avenue, 16-year-old B.J. was still relishing his time alone in his big brother's apartment, savoring the independence of a night in the big city.
Travis wouldn't be home until well after 1 a.m., and there was still no sign of that cowboy guy, the man who'd been sleeping there recently. A few blocks south of there, Ann and her friends Dan and Jeff had moved on from Sidelines to a new spot, a lively bar called Richard Cranium's, otherwise known as Dickhead's, at Bismarck Expressway and 12th Street South.
There, the trio had run into another friend, Sarah, and the group had really settled in, kicking back drinks and soaking up the Saturday night atmosphere. But even as Anne laughed and drank with her friends, her thoughts kept drifting back to her fiancé, Robbie Rarick, still at work at the House of Bottles liquor store in North Bismarck. She couldn't help wonder how his night was going.
Meanwhile, up there in North Bismarck, 22-year-old Stephen Kraft and his buddy Russell Zins were cruising around town when they decided they'd swing by and visit their friend Ryan Weaflin, who was hanging out at his sister's place on Ohio Street. When they arrived, they found Ryan with a girl named Lori busy assembling a shelf they'd just picked up from Kmart earlier in the evening. One of them said something like, man, I could really go for a beer right now.
But the apartment was dry, no beer in sight. So Russell and Steve volunteered to make a quick beer run. After all, the House of Bottles liquor store was conveniently located just around the corner, nestled into a small strip mall at the corner of Century and 19th. In fact, the store was close enough that they could have walked over, only about 200 yards away. But maybe the cold was biting a little too hard, or perhaps the pavement looked slick with frost or snow.
For whatever reason, instead of walking, the two young men hopped in Steve's pickup truck and drove the short distance. Steve parked right in the front of the entrance. Inside the House of Bottles liquor store, the first thing they saw was Robbie Rerick, the store clerk, standing behind a counter. He was chatting with a man wearing a black cowboy hat and a long duster coat.
Russell Zins had never seen this cowboy guy before. Steve Kraft, however, recognized him right away. That's Sean, he thought. He'd met the man a few times through a mutual friend, running into him now and then at the various bars around town. Steve also recalled that Sean had recently worked at the other House of Bottles store, the one in South Bismarck, the one that had just closed its doors a few weeks earlier.
Steve and Russell walked past the neat stacks of beer cases, wine bottles, and assorted hard liquor. The place smelled of cardboard, and the hum of coolers buzzed in their ears. They grabbed a cold 18-pack of beer and headed to the checkout counter to pay for it. The clerk, Robbie Rarick, greeted them with a nod and an easy smile. Beside him, the man in the duster coat said something like, "'How's it going, guys?'
Steve and Russell didn't rush off right away. Instead, they joined Robbie and Sean in casual bullshitting for about 20 minutes. Russell and Steve even cracked open a couple of beers right there on the spot. They offered the other two a beer also. Robbie Rarick politely declined, but Sean accepted without hesitation. The conversation meandered. Work complaints, stories about girlfriends, hunting trips, and a mix of random small talk.
Four young men killing time on a frigid Saturday night in Bismarck, North Dakota. Shooting the shit. Chewing the cud. Bullshitting. At a quarter past midnight, just 45 minutes before Robbie would be closing up the shop, Russ and Steve decided it was time to head back to their friends around the corner. As they were getting ready to leave, the man in the duster long coat asked if he could catch a ride with them. He too had friends at the same apartment complex, he said.
So, the three of them, Russ, Steve, and Sean, piled into Steve's pickup truck and set off on their 90-second journey around the corner. On the drive over, Steve invited Sean to come inside for a beer. When the trio arrived at 301 Ohio Street, a few other people had shown up.
Some of them cracked open a beer. Most of them relaxed and were at ease. Everyone but the man named Sean, he seemed like he couldn't sit still. And boy, the others observed, he just couldn't down that beer fast enough. Within just 10 minutes, he asked to use the restroom, and then he said his farewell, saying he was eager to see his friends at the apartment building next door. He walked out the door at 12.20 a.m.,
Down in South Bismarck, Anne was still at Dickhead's bar with her friends Jeff, Dan and Sarah.
As closing time neared, she grew anxious, eager to head up to the house of bottles. Unfortunately, as the clock edged towards 1 a.m., Anne found herself reluctantly appointed as the designated driver, or perhaps more accurately, the taxi driver, for all three of her friends. She tried her best to round them all up and get everyone out to the car before last call so she could make it to Robbie on time. It was no easy task.
when her passengers scattered towards the bathrooms, Anne seized the moment to find a phone. "House of bottles?" Anne quickly explained the situation to Robbie. She'd be there as soon as she could, but she had to drop off a few friends first. Robbie replied calmly, telling her not to worry. He still had to count the register and close up the store. Yet, something about the conversation felt different to Anne. Robbie's tone seemed different, a little distant, as if he was distracted.
Before hanging up, she said, "Love you." There was a brief pause before he responded, "I'll see you at 1." It wasn't like him and Anne couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Or maybe he was just tired, stressed from a long night at work. Finally, her friends trickled back and Anne guided them out to the car and nudged them into their seats. They pulled out of the parking lot just after 1 am.
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As she drove north, her friend Jeff pleaded to be dropped off at his sister's place first. With a sigh, Anne accommodated him, making the quick detour. Then, with Jeff out of the car, Anne told her remaining passengers they needed to swing by the House of Bottles to pick up Robbie. She pulled into the lot, parked near the exit doors, and let the car idle. Normally, Robbie would come bouncing out right away, prompt and ready to get home.
This time, though, the minutes ticked away and there was nothing, no sign of him. After some time, Anne got out of the car and walked up to the glass exit doors and peeked inside. The store was dark except for the faint glow coming from the office in the back. The exit doors had no exterior handles, but usually Robbie left them unlocked until he was finished. Anne tried to get a grip on the edge of the door to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge. Then she knocked.
Nothing. Then she banged a little harder. Still nothing. Perplexed, Anne returned to the car. Her friend Dan was getting restless in the back seat, shifting and muttering that he just wanted to get home. Anne just stared at the darkened storefront. She didn't want to leave. What if Robbie thought she'd just driven off without him? She really didn't know what to do. Finally, she decided she'd drive Dan home quickly and then return again. The time was 1.30.
Elsewhere across the river on the strip in Mandan, Kristy and her friend Karen had wrapped up their night at the Lonesome Dove. Now they were settled into a booth at Kroll's Diner, the go-to spot for late night meals after a night out at the saloon.
Kroll's was just a half mile from the Lonesome Dove, right there on the strip, a perfect place for a greasy burger and fries or an early breakfast of bacon and eggs before heading home. As they munched on their meals, Chris's buddy Karen suddenly leaned forward, peering past her. She said, "Isn't that your friend, the cowboy you were talking to tonight at the Dove?" Christy turned around, scanning the room. A few booths away, she spotted Sean, unmistakable in his black cowboy hat.
He was sitting with a couple of other guys. She gave him a wave and he waved back, but he didn't make any move to come over. Christy turned back to her friends with a puzzle book. Yeah, that's him. That's kind of weird. I wonder why he didn't come by and say hello when he walked in.
Meanwhile, over on Rosser Avenue in Bismarck, 16-year-old B.J. from Napoleon had been enjoying having the whole pad to himself when finally his brother Travis came home. And Travis wasn't alone. With him were four friends, three girls and a guy named Damus. The six of them settled in for some fun and late-night TV. Anne Thompson drove through the quiet, icy streets of central Bismarck with her two passengers.
Dan wanted to be dropped off along Avenue C, and Sarah needed to be taken to the American Inn Hotel. But Anne wasn't really thinking about the passengers she had in her car. Anne was more concerned about the person that was supposed to be in her car, but wasn't. Her fiancé, Robbie Rurik. Ordinarily, Robbie would come right out of the store and get in the car. Ordinarily, they would be home by now.
Ordinarily, they would be cozied up on the couch together, talking about their day and about their future together. Dan said goodnight and swung the passenger door closed. Ann pointed the car north again and beelined to the house of bottles. She told Sarah she had to check for Robbie again before driving her to the hotel. Ann parked near the exit doors again, stepped out of the car and peered through the windows.
Still, no movement, just the glow of light from the office. Again, she banged on the door. Again, nothing. Back in the car, she was feeling confused and becoming concerned. Where the hell was Robbie? She considered her options and finally decided to take Sarah to her hotel from the lobby of the American Inn and called the liquor store again. "You've reached the House of Bottles. We are not available right now." Then she called her own phone at home but got the answering machine.
Back in her car, Anne sat alone and considered what to do next. She pulled out of the American Inn parking lot at 1:45 and headed straight home to her apartment. There, she opened the door and took a quick look around for anything Robbie. No shoes, no jacket, no Robbie. Anne tried to think. It would be out of character for Robbie to, say, go to a party or something without letting her know.
She rushed towards the answering machine in case he'd left her a message. "You have. No new messages." Late as it was, Anne jogged up the stairs and woke up her roommate. Her roommate rubbed her eyes and said she hadn't seen him. "Have you tried calling Travis?" she asked.
Ann knew that her roommate was right. Travis Bitts might be able to help her. Travis was a friend of hers and of Robbie's. And more importantly in this situation, Travis had occasionally worked at the House of Bottles. Travis would know what to do. Ann trotted back downstairs and called the House of Bottles one more time. In a flash, she was out the door again and behind the wheel of her car.
Travis lived by the hospital, but instead of heading there directly, Anne whipped the car northward again. I'll just check the store one more time, she thought. If he's not there, I'll go get Travis. But of course, at the House of Bottles, nothing had changed at all.
The place was still dark. Robbie was still not waiting for her. The light in the office was still on. Nothing of that had changed. It seemed like the only thing changing on this Saturday night in February in Bismarck, North Dakota, was that Ann Thompson was becoming increasingly concerned. And so, for the third time that night, Ann Thompson drove away from the House of Bottles without her fiancé sitting next to her.
She steered her car southward again, back through the icy streets of downtown Bismarck while her thoughts raced along. Was Robbie angry at her for going out with friends? Was their relationship in trouble? Did he have a heart attack? What in the world was happening? She arrived at Travis's apartment at 2 a.m.
Travis Bitts sat in his apartment relaxing with a group of friends and his younger brother BJ who was visiting. It had been a long day for Travis. He had worked from 2.30pm until 1am at a place called Home Run Convenience Store located on South 12th Street. It had been a regular day at work really, maybe a small uptick of out-of-towners due to the wrestling tournament going on.
A couple of times that day, things had gotten slow at work. In those moments, Travis would occasionally kill time by calling friends. He liked calling his friend Robbie Rarick, who worked up there at the House of Bottles north. But now, the long day was behind him. Now was the time to relax with BJ and his friends and some beverages.
things were looking good for the rest of this weekend in fact things were looking good moving forward too for one earlier in the week travis had finally taken steps to be done with his rent-free guest he told sean to clear out by monday
They'd once worked together at the old House of Bottles in South Bismarck before it shut down. And while Sean seemed like a decent enough guy, Travis had gone above and beyond for him. Enough was enough. Besides, Travis had a new actual roommate moving in on Monday. Someone who would actually be contributing and paying rent. Things were looking up. When Travis opened the door, he could immediately see something was troubling Anne. "Have you seen or heard from Robbie?" she asked.
She stepped inside and explained everything. Travis told her he had spoken to Robbie on the phone at 1230. Robbie didn't say anything about going anywhere or meeting any friends, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. And I talked to him at 5 to 1, Ann told Travis. Travis walked over to his phone and tried calling the store. Travis grabbed his jacket and keys and said, let's just go up there.
They took Travis' car and pulled into the parking lot seven minutes later. At the door, he cupped his hands around his eyes and peered through the windows. Sure enough, as Anna told him, the lights in the store were off, all except one yellow light radiating from the office in the back. Travis wasn't sure, but he thought he could see Robbie's arm. It looked like Robbie, or at least somebody, was sitting back there in the office. Was he asleep? Passed out? Drunk?
With no handles on the outside of the exit doors, Travis used his key as leverage. He stuck the key in the slot, turned it, and then pulled the door open slightly until his fingers could clasp the edge of the door. Finally, he pulled it open and stepped inside. Ann Thompson was right behind him. Travis noticed that the security alarm had not been set. If Robbie had left the store, he should have activated it. He took a few steps towards the office and then called out,
"Robby! Robby, let's go!" Finally, Travis Bitts walked the last few steps needed to peer into the office. The time was 2:31 a.m. In downtown Bismarck, a city police officer was patrolling near Custer Park when he heard the call come through. His name was Mike Robertu. "Call for immediate service at House of Bottles." The cop let dispatch know he'd be responding and whipped his cruiser northward. He was three miles away.
Oh my God.
What happened? No. Oh my God. Oh my God. No.
Yeah. Okay, is it a male, female? Male, there's no weapons. Okay, what happened, do you know? I have no idea, his girlfriend came to my house. Why is there blood coming out of his ears? I don't know. Huh? Just tell somebody. I've got him on the lacer, help me out here, okay? Where is the blood coming from? His ears, he's dead. Okay. Is he, any knives or anything in the area? What? Any knives? Nothing, nothing. And your inside house a bottle?
- Yes, he works there. - He works there? - Yes. - When was the last time anybody saw him? - I'm guessing one o'clock, 'cause I talked to him a little before. When I was at work too, I called him. - Okay. At one o'clock you talked to him? - Five to one you talked to him. - Okay. - Five to one she talked to him. - Okay. And did he fall, do you think? - No, 'cause he's sitting in a chair. I don't know. - Sitting in a chair? - Yes. - Okay.
Okay. But you say he's not breathing at all? Did you check to see if he's got a heart? He's not breathing. Does he have a pulse in his ear, under his ear? No. No, no, I'm not touching it. Okay. And he's the only one there, right? Yes. Okay. I've got help on the way here. Is the door unlocked? I'll let him in. Okay. And your name is? Travis. Okay, Travis. Hang on here. Just leave the phone open, okay? Come here, Ann. Come here. Come here. Come here. Come here. 976, how can I help you?
Okay
She was supposed to pick him up from work. Okay. I was supposed to pick him up from work, and I waited outside. And she waited outside, and so she came and got me because I work here too, and I got a key. Okay, so the door was locked when she went? Well, see, the door's locked. The exit door, you can't get in from the outside, so it wasn't locked. Okay. What is his name? Rob. Rob.
Okay. Was there any indication of any, that he wasn't happy or? Not that I know of. I talked to him like 10, like 12, 30 and he was perfectly fine. Can't find any weapons or anything. You have no idea what he might have done? No, no, I don't, I don't know what happened. Or that was, and you had to unlock the door, is that correct? Well, no, I, you can't. Okay, the exit door, there's no handle on the outside. Okay. So we don't lock it until we leave. Okay. And I just stuck my
I stuck my key in there and turned it so I could open the door. - Okay, what I'm wondering, there was nobody else that could have gotten in there? - Oh no, nobody couldn't, no. - Okay, do you see any wounds on him at all anywhere? - Do I have to go look? I don't wanna go look. - Oh, that's fine. But you did check he's not breathing? - Yeah. - Okay, hold on one second, okay? I'm gonna talk to the ambulance and the people on the way, okay? - Okay. Come here, Ann, come here. I don't know where. - Oh my God.
Are you still there? Yes, I'm still with you. You can't hear me when I'm on the radio, but I'm still here. Where are you at in the house of bottles? Right by the front door. Okay. I'm going to be on the radio. You can't hear me, okay? Okay. Okay.
Are they almost here? Yep, they're on their way, Travis. They're not too far away.
Do you have the lights on in the building then? In where? In the front there where you're at? Well, my car is parked out in front with the lights on. They can't miss it. Okay. Okay? I'll just keep you on the phone until they get there, okay? Okay. There's nothing around that would indicate anything at all, huh?
Nothing that I see. I mean, he's just sitting there with the paperwork right there. Everything is right there. Here they are. Okay. The police are there? Yeah. I'm turning the lights off. Okay. I'll let you talk to him, Travis, okay? Okay. All right. Bye-bye. Bye. When Mike Robertu maneuvered his cruiser into the parking lot at the corner of East Century and North 19th, he immediately saw Travis and Ann holding the door open and waving him in.
He slid to a stop, hopped out, and scooted up the steps. Travis pointed to the office in the back. Robert Du moved immediately to the office and took a look. One thing was immediately obvious to him. The young man sitting in the office chair was no longer alive. He was leaning backwards into the chair with his head bent lifelessly all the way backwards. There was a large pool of blood on the floor. Robert Du took a closer look.
He saw what was pretty much unmistakable, a bullet hole in the man's head. The cop took a look at the young man's empty hands. He scanned the room, the floor, and the desk. He didn't see a gun anywhere. What was on the desk was the drawer from the cash register. Except for some small change, it was empty. A calculator and partially filled-in deposit slip rested next to the drawer. Officer Robertu backed out, and just seconds later, two more patrol cars pulled in.
One cop spoke with the two people who said they discovered the body. The other helped Robert, who searched the store to make sure nobody was lurking. The third cop sealed off the entrances to the parking lot and started a crime scene log. One of them got on the horn. Send detectives to House of Bottles at 2900 North 19th Street. Looks like we've got a homicide at House of Bottles. ♪
Still yet to come in Season 11, Homicide at House of Bottles. You have to understand, in Bismarck, murderers are not commonplace. Goofy smile, you know, especially with his teeth. He had just kind of a snaggly smile, but it was always just a genuine, genuine smile.
He made everyone that he was friends with feel like they were cared about and taken care of. He says, "Well, isn't that trailer right over there?" I says, "Oh." He says, "He's in a trailer right now." Somebody in the neighborhood that they were concerned about or thought might be capable of doing something like this
And we are trying to talk to all the former employees and present employees and anybody that might know a little bit about what had gone on. If you've got the forethought to think about you need to pick up that shell casing, maybe this isn't the first time that you've done something like this.
Those of you subscribed to Spotlight Plus can binge the entire Homicide at House of Bottles season right now ad-free. If you're not yet a subscriber, join today for as little as $5 a month and unlock not only this season, but 10 other seasons available for ad-free binging. You can cancel at any time, sign up in the Apple Podcasts app or at dakotaspotlight.com. Dakota Spotlight is written, recorded, and edited by me, James Wallner, and proudly produced by the Porchlight Podcast Network.
I want to thank Mari Zorb Hansen of Madison, Wisconsin for her contributions on this season. Her dedication to research, interviews, and feedback has been a real asset, and her collaborative spirit has made her an integral part of the team.
A sincere thank you also to Bob Haas, Lloyd Halverson, and the Bismarck Police Department for granting me access to review the files and materials from this case. And most importantly, a very special thank you to the friends and family of Robbie Rerich for their support and cooperation in sharing this profoundly tragic story. Our deepest condolences go out once again to everyone impacted by this heartbreaking loss.
If you'd like to stay up to date on the show, be sure to join the Dakota Spotlight Facebook group. For inquiries or feedback, feel free to reach out by emailing me at dakotaspotlight at gmail.com. That's all for now. Thank you for listening and I'll see you next time.