Episode 5: The DNA Speaks

In May 1996, Julie Williams and Lollie Winans walked into Shenandoah National Park with the same sense of freedom that had drawn them to the wilderness throughout their lives. They were experienced backpackers. They knew the mountains. They carried their dog, Taj, and five days of plans with quiet, beauty, and time together.

Nine days later, rangers found them brutally murdered.

For nearly three decades, the question that hovered over every interview, every lead, and every prayer whispered by two families remained the same:

If not him, then who?

A Case Frozen in Time

In 1996, investigators collected everything they could from the remote campsite: fibers, hairs, trace biological material, pieces of the tent, and sleeping bag. But it was the era of degraded samples and partial prints—science could only go so far, especially after days of exposure in the wilderness.

The case stalled. And for nearly ten years, it stuttered forward with one name attached to it: Darryl David Rice.

Even after charges were dismissed in 2004, Rice’s life had already been rewritten by suspicion and devastation. He’d spent decades unable to work, unable to live openly, haunted by the shadow of a crime he didn’t commit. And just 15 days after his name was finally cleared in 2024, he died in a tragic accident on a Missouri road.

Rice becomes a second tragedy of this case—a reminder of the cost of being wrong in the long space between suspicion and proof.

A New Team, New Tools, and a Forgotten Envelope

In 2021, the Shenandoah case landed on a new desk inside the FBI’s Richmond field office. A newly assembled cold case unit, comprising agents, analysts, and evidence technicians, began reopening long-dormant files. They pulled the envelopes from shelves that had sat untouched for decades.

Funding from the Sexual Assault Kit Initiative allowed the FBI to partner with a private lab specializing in ultra-sensitive DNA extraction—a tool that simply didn’t exist in the 1990s.

What they found changed everything.

A male DNA profile—lifted from Julie and Lollie’s sleeping bag and tent flap—was finally strong enough to compare.

When it entered CODIS, it hit.

And then came the confirmation: a direct comparison verified by every marker, with odds of error less than one in 2.6 trillion.

The man responsible was Walter Leo Jackson, Sr., a convicted serial rapist from Ohio with a pattern of violence stretching across four decades.

He had hiking experience. He had been in the region. He knew how to use the backcountry.

Yet somehow, his name had never been linked to the murders until 2024.

A Violent History Hidden in Plain Sight

Jackson’s record forms a devastating timeline—bursts of brutality followed by stretches of incarceration, each release followed by another assault.

Within days of Julie and Lollie’s deaths in May 1996, Jackson abducted and raped a woman in Ohio. Five weeks later, another attack.

If he committed all three crimes, they occurred within a six-week span—suggesting a man violent, impulsive, and escalating.

Investigators now believe Jackson was traveling in a chestnut brown AMC Eagle that spring, a vehicle similar to one seen near Shenandoah around the time of the murders. He moved constantly, swapping license plates, changing vehicles, and working odd jobs as a house painter—quiet enough to be overlooked, mobile enough to vanish.

He died in 2018, never answering a single question.

There will be no courtroom, no testimony, no confrontation.

Only a name—and a truth delivered far too late.

For the Families, A Long-Awaited Certainty

When federal officials announced the match in June 2024, the moment carried a complicated weight: closure, yes, but also grief, disbelief, and 28 years of lost time.

U.S. Attorney Christopher Kavanaugh said:

“After 28 years, we are now able to say who committed the brutal murders of Lollie Winans and Julie Williams… We know there is nothing we can say today that will ease the families’ pain. We do hope this information will help move them forward in the healing process.”

Julie and Lollie’s families have remained largely private throughout the decades, but those who knew them speak of their kindness, intelligence, and absolute love for the outdoors. They were 24 and 26 when they were killed. Today, they would be in their 50s—still hiking, still loving, still alive.

The ache of who they might have become is part of the story now, too.

How the Case Reshaped the Systems Around It

Julie and Lollie’s murders changed more than the ongoing investigation—they changed wilderness policy, forensic practice, and how agencies communicate across jurisdictions.

After 1996:

• National parks improved evidence preservation and ranger training

• The FBI reassessed its cold-case procedures

• Programs like the Sexual Assault Kit Initiative were born

• DNA technology caught up to samples once considered hopeless

Shenandoah, meanwhile, became a symbol: a place of spectacular beauty where violence cracked the illusion of safety.

The LGBTQ+ community, especially in the 1990s, held this story in a quiet, painful way. Julie and Lollie were deeply in love, but also cautious about visibility—something still relatable to many today. Their story became part of a lineage of queer people whose joy in public or in nature never felt fully safe.

The Question That Still Haunts This Case

Even now, investigators ask whether Walter Jackson acted alone.

Julie and Lollie were strong. Experienced. Capable. The bindings were precise. The crime scene was deliberate. Jackson’s known pattern included weapons and intimidation—but could he have controlled both women without assistance?

That question remains open.

And yet the bigger question—who—has finally been answered.

A Story That Stays with Us

Walking Shenandoah’s trails today, the mountains feel unchanged. Beautiful. Wild. Indifferent. And still, if you know Julie and Lollie’s story, something quiet settles in the space between the trees.

Their laughter lived here. Their love lived here . Their absence still hums under the canopy.

This case is not just about one man’s violence. It’s about what it costs to move through the world alert, cautious, and hoping to be safe. It’s about two women who sought stillness and deserved to find their way home.

Thank You for Walking with Us

To Julie’s family.To Lollie’s family.To the investigators, journalists, and hikers who refused to let this story fade. And to you—our listeners—thank you for being here.

If this season has meant something to you, we invite you to rate and review SEQUESTERED. It helps more people find these stories and these families.

For full video coverage, photos, documents, transcripts, and behind-the-scenes details, visit SequesteredPod.com.

Season Three’s bonus episode is coming soon.

We’re honored to share this journey with you.

— Sara & Andrea

SEQUESTERED

Credits: SEQUESTERED is created by Sara Reid and Andrea Kleid. Hosted and produced by Sara Reid. Written and researched by Sara Reid and Andrea Kleid. Theme music by Night Owl. Original music by Andrew Golden — listen to his full song “Shenandoah” wherever you stream music.