A few years ago, my sweet, innocent, non-true-crime-listening husband pulled out his phone and casually said, “A guy I’m friends with on Facebook just posted that his wife is missing.”

Yeah. Sure. OK.

I immediately responded, not knowing who he was talking about, and said, “She’s not missing. He probably killed her.”

Then I moved quicker than I have since high school track to grab his phone and get all the details. First off, it was a homemade MISSING poster. Sketch. Second, the guy had mega creep vibes. I HAD to know why/how/when my husband became friends (albeit FB friends) with such a man.

Back in college, about 10 years ago now, my husband, the guy and his then girlfriend (now wife who is “missing”), all traveled together to the epitome of nerdiness: the chemical engineering hydrogen car championships.

Just the three of them. In a van. For 9 hours straight.

Were they friends? Not exactly. But budgets were tight at our SEC university. One van would do.

My husband gave them free rein of the backseat in exchange for radio control. He didn’t interact with them much but made sure to mention “they fogged up the back windows making out. I listened to hockey on full blast.”

Fast forward to 2019. I hate to say it, but I was right.

A week after the guy posted that his wife was missing, police found blood in their home. They found tapes of him buying cleaning supplies. He confessed.

She was 6 weeks pregnant. He was cheating. They fought. He killed her.

Then dumped her alongside the highway about 45 minutes away. It’s all incredibly predictable. And so incredibly sad.

A jury just found him guilty of first-degree murder in May 2022.

Here’s the best (worst?) part. If you happen to Google the victim’s first name + her maiden name, the image that pops up is from that hydrogen car tournament.

There, you’ll see my husband standing right alongside a murderer and his victim with a “I hate it here” look on his face.

Maybe he knew all along. Maybe he just hated engineering. You know what? Probably both.