I pulled up a mugshot. He was older, but there was no doubt – I could spot him a mile away

I’d just got myself a chocolate milk and was on my way to pick up a Sunday paper when I saw a Chevy with a male and two females in it. It was October 1971, and I was 21. I was a couple of years into my policing career, working the morning shift in Denver, Colorado, out in a car on my own.

The male was wearing a khaki cap and looked like a rough dude. I went to where he was sitting on the passenger side and he gave me his wallet, which had a social security card.

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