Rick A Hyatt
548 15th #402
Rawlins, WY 82301
307-321-3371
Dear Sirs,
Re: Cold Case Lyric Collins and Elizabeth Cook
To: Various
Subject: My having seen the two about November
of 2012 in Wyoming hitchhiking and having reported it to no avail.
I will attempt here to recreate what I saw and
did in retrospect and in detail. I am certain I herein provide
information that would lead to the perpetrator(s) involved.
I was a truck driver then working for BCN and
hauling gravel from Baggs, west on I-80, and north on Wamsutter
Road. I since got snagged up in a DUI, mainly because I was
whistleblowing on unsafe and illegal conditions of some trucking
companies, so was out of the loop for some time. Hence, only now do
I have the wherewithal to follow up.
At the Wamsutter turn-off, there is a nice
truck stop called Love’s. Since I was hauling a double trailer of
gravel, and they had taken homage to truck drivers pulling over on
the road, there was no way I could stop when I saw two girls on the
southeast corner holding a small cardboard sign. I would not have
been able to give them a ride, anyway, as I was headed north up into
the oilfield desert, and it is not allowed anyway.
Still, the scene seemed very out of place: The
two turned and half-way pointed the sign to me in a wistful way, but
not as if they were in danger, or anything. I could only make out
that the older one, who held the sign, had written it in pen, and
that alone made me wonder.
Why not something more readable, like a magic
marker? They couldn’t afford one? The staff wouldn’t loan them
one? I later thought perhaps they didn’t have time to wait in the
usual long lines.
Then I noticed their clothing, for it was
starting to get cold here in Wyoming, with some snow that had melted
somewhat. They were dressed way too lightly to be hitchhiking nor be
camping or homeless, and the clothes too clean.
It was so out of place that I decided that I
would try to memorize the image, as the truck bounced too much to try
and note such anomaly in my log, as I usually do.
I first scrutinized, as quickly as I could in
motion, the taller one to the right holding the sign. She had
brunette hair with bangs almost to the shoulder. She was wearing
yellow and white (I reported all this in greater detail to the tip
lines later, but don’t remember so much now), unusual colors, and
I think now it was the lightweight slacks that were yellow.
But what stood out about here was her glasses,
something I would have called in my younger days, “Horn-rimmed
glasses.” Her head being rather round, the oversized black rimmed
glasses made her reminiscent of an owl, frankly.
To the left was the shorter blond girl, whose
hair was longer, also ending in bangs. She wore a beige kind of
sweater with a brown band around the middle. When I went to
scrutinize her more closely, she immediately, turned her head down
and away. I quickly saw why and looked away myself out of
politeness. She had an oversized forehead, and was probably
self-conscious of it, I thought at the time.
I wondered what they must be doing, and looked
for handbags or backpacks, but saw only – I think it was – a
larger handbag made of the same material perhaps as the sweater on
the ground.
For me to have stopped at the truck stop would
have meant going around and trying to find a spot for my
double-trailer, etc., and by that time, I thought, someone would
surely pick them up anyway. Love’s has just that, friendly people.
But it just didn’t fit, so rationalized that
if the older one perhaps had just gotten her license, lived in
Rawlins (50 mile) and had run out of gas. Perhaps trying to get a
ride back to get Daddy and get same. It was not until later that I
found out the oldest was only 10.
I was in a rush, anyway, as my employer was
trying to get me to drive overtime, which I would not do. So I had
to rush to get in two loads, and this was my first. Therefore,
picking up gravel at Baggs right at sunrise would have made it
somewhere around 9 or 10 o’clock, I think.
Some time later, perhaps a week or so, I was
hauling another load and about 25 miles up as I later calculated it,
I slowed at the top of a blind hill, as the road narrowed with an
abutment to the right, and it be a blind spot over the ridge.
Especially with the long, enormous dust cloud that my rig generated,
often blinding oncoming traffic.
And slowed even more, seeing a small pickup
parked in the westerly most ditch on the side of the road. It had
rained, so the grader’s work had come to naught, as it was flat,
and now dry. But I slowed, thinking that a local person might be
stuck, or perhaps an oil boss was parked like that to signal his
trucks into a site. There were a few tanks off to the West and an
entry road just before.
But they don’t usually use their personal
vehicles, which this clearly was, so again, I noted it. I did not
want to be like others who “Dusted out” the locals without any
compulsion about it.
There was a 20’s – 30 year old man in the
driver’s seat with black hair and a stubbly kind of new beard.
He had his right arm stretched out on the
bench seat of this smaller, brown, I believe, 70’s vintage but in
excellent shape (Not a ding nor scratch, nor cracked windshield, to
be seen – VERY unusual for off-road Wyoming, let alone the area.)
His left arm he had crooked out the open window, apparently not
caring that he was about to be dusted out. As much as I slowed, the
wind was blowing west.
His demeanor was unreal. It was as if, and I
describe it this way: As if not only the World was about to end, but
the entire Universe as well. I’ve never seen anything like it
until I download Dan Morrisey’s photo later on. And even then,
that look was not as strong as that day. He ignored me.
Instead, he put his right hand on the dashboard
for something, and looked down, mouthing something. I’d tried
waving to him and to make eye contact, but I thought he was, instead,
cussing me out. Yet he did not roll up his window, as any local
resident would have. So I slowed further and looked down and in as I
passed.
Not known to many 4-wheelers, big rig drivers
can see a lot from their vantage point, and I thought I must. Just
as I passed, a round head with black hair and bangs with the
aforementioned “Owl” glasses looked up from his groin area. My
first thought – Please forgive me – Was that I’d seen the same
(older?) girl at the truck stop and so that she must have been
servicing the guy. Hence, parked on the side of the road where there
was a view, but no other reason I could think of.
But, in retrospect, I now wonder if her
seeming casualness with the man was because it was her father, and
she was napping until awoken.
Perhaps, I think now, to point me out to ask if
I “Was the one?” As in having scrutinized them so well at the
truck stop, perhaps. They were the only two in the truck.
In that area, and a few miles further, I
believe, is the turn-off for Jeffery City, and one of the few
“Official” BLM signs that designate a camping spot with water,
like a marina. As an outdoorsman, I had often wondered what it must
be like, and if it had trout. But the distance alone meant there
would be no way for me to ever see and certainly not with my own
truck, nor the rig.
But as I passed, I looked at the license plate,
for such can often give clue as to the owner. Local county resident,
out-of-state, etc. I think I saw a trace of red and white only for
there was enough fine dust on the bumper to be as if one had taken
cups of it to cover same up. The front license plate had also not
ben visible. But this all put into my mind the hauling of a
light-weight pop-up trailer for camping, for I have done that. Of
course, on BLM land in Wyoming, one can camp where one wishes pretty
much, but one would want at least some greenery, like trees, and
water. They definitely weren’t hunting (Notice my previous error
typo by spellchecker, “Hiking.” It was past the time of year for
antler finding.)
But one would, in any event, end up going down
to the only place pretty much in miles to reprovision for real ice,
food, gas, even showers, like Love’s. It’s very cosmopolitan,
and nothing else pretty much in Wamsutter, which is miles from
everywhere.
So in retrospect, I wonder if the two tried to
get away while he was in line or in the shower or something.
Being an internet junkie, I often read up on
news and such. I happened upon an Amber Alert, which I usually don’t
read, but it caught my attention. I first did more reading to see if
it could be that two.
I called in the tip line at that point. And
when I saw more on the big screen at Mike’s Bar and Grill in
Rawlins, I was very sure. So much so that I twice made a point of
telling the woman bartender and even a few of the kitchen staff about
it.
I told “Jodi” and another BCN driver that
I’d scored on the Amber Alert, but they didn’t seem interested,
so I didn’t say much more. Jodi also owns “Jesse’s Place,” a
motel, when he doesn’t drive.
Since everything I’d read rang true to the
sightings, I called not only the two hot lines at least, but the
Evansdale Police, and followed up with a voicemail to the Sweetwater
Sheriff’s Office. They share an office with the HP in Wamsutter,
and I thought that would be the quickest.
I’ve received some strange looks from folks,
like one employee from Love’s since, but no one else has contacted
me. I finally got a news alert that they had been found dead back in
Iowa.
And in reading about that, I find that it is
glossed over, for it is stated that the Police want to lure someone
out with details. Therefore, I’m not sure what the truth can be
in the final disposition.
I can only assume that the finding of them dead
at another lake other than where their bikes were found is true –
And thereby, my observations above. I know I saw them, I just don’t
know why the father would have brought them to Wyoming, and then
taken such interest in my sighting of them. Unless that made him
change whatever plans had had at the time.
Having downloaded Dan Morrisey’s photo, it
is much more slim – Like I saw – than on video. His black,
stick-out stubble hair and beard are the same. The photo reminded me
of his buck teeth, which are reminiscent of “Meth teeth.” The
body size, etc., fit. But one can see beyond the shadow of doubt, a
certain “The Universe is going to end” look only somewhat
replaced by some sense of gratitude, even at such a long Meth
sentence, and certainly no grief nor mourning appears to be extant.
One could speculate, and this is my best. I
could only point out a few things you probably already are aware of:
That little brown pickup came from Suburbia, not from around here. If
they weren’t situated in the general area, and wanted to spock me
out, why not do it closer to the highway and town? How’d he know
to stay on the main road, and not branch off to other sites? Did he
ask someone about the big white BCN trailer/trucks? Any further out
beyond the turnoff to Jeffery City and he would have REALLY stood out
in the broad open, and where traffic goes fast. What did that mean
to him that I’d noticed them? The Amber Alert?
In other words, I must think that whatever the
girls knew or had witnessed in Iowa, he could NOT allow same to be
known to his sentencing Court, at least. I surmise that perhaps he
may have hunted for antelope the general area, and/or knows someone
in the area, like Rawlins. Perhaps he borrowed the truck and/or even
a camper. If he was staying at a farmhouse, the same. There is
absolutely NO other reason to be in this desolate area – At a time
an Amber Alert was out on the two and he was overdue, it was said,
for some Court appearance. Except to hide out for a period. What was
he waiting for?
I have suggested that oil field drivers,
especially drivers and the oilfield bosses, who patrol the area, be
asked if such rings a bell. There is B&M, Haystacks, Basic,
Hayland, and others in Rawlins and Wamsutter. There are the oil
companies, and even several owner-operators who would have traveled
the road at the time. The Baggs gravel pit would know who. The
“Desert Bar” and Love’s, of course, might validate these
sightings.
(Note: 1/18/14: I just day before yesterday went to Mike's Bar & Grill and verified with an employee there that I'd discussed the matter with him in detail as described above at the time.Well, the authorities screwed up then by not contacting me, so is it a cover-up that they don't contact me now? Or was I incarcerated and held for SIX MONTHS INCOMMUNICADO because of THIS matter? There's a reward for this - Why would they hold that back? Or is it simply because I'm a "Birther" who REALLY KNOWS TOO MUCH?) Cold case of Lyric Collins and Elizabeth Cook
