What is it about that that has stuck with you the most?

Oh, the image of her body.

I cannot get that image out of my head.

I keep seeing the river at dusk in that twilight gloom.

I hear crickets chirping.

I hear, you know, the natural river sounds, and they would not be loud.

And I see these guys fishing, and I keep seeing through their eyes.

As I look towards this thing floating on the water,

this large, mummy-shaped package wrapped in black plastic plastic and bound all around with duct tape with chains and rope connecting the package to two concrete cinder blocks and then they realize that the package is open at one end, the top end, and there is this long,

blonde hair flowing out across the surface of the water like a hank of corn silk.

I mean, it's so obvious that whoever threw her in there had no idea she'd ever rise again.

No idea.

They assumed that she was going to be underneath the Trinity River for eternity.

In 1993, Shelly Salter Watkins was a young mom living in Corsicana, Texas, a town less than an hour's drive south of Dallas.

Shelly was a very beautiful and vibrant and smart young woman.

She was very forthright.

She always spoke her mind.

This is Corsicana native Carol Dawson.

She didn't put up with any bullshit, and I think she was a handful.

She was, as we call a woman like that in Texas, a pistol.

But Shelly wasn't quite like the other folks in Corsicana.

She'd grown up in the Midwest in a completely different culture,

...