Lamanara.

When 23-year-old Carla Booth woke up the morning of March 5, 1982 and saw fresh snow on the ground.

The sense of dread she had been feeling all week exploded into full-blown panic.

The sun hadn't risen yet, but her husband buddy was already dressing in the brown uniform that he wore for work.

Even in good weather, she hated that he had to drive a laundry delivery van through Utah's canyons.

And whatever was nagging her that morning felt different.

I just had a feeling something was going to happen. I just had this feeling several days before,

and it just kept getting stronger and stronger.

In the moment, she blamed the overnight snowstorm.

In retrospect, maybe it was the kind of warning that just doesn't make sense until it's too late.

And so in the pre-Don light, Carla made what seemed like an absurd request of her husband.

I really tried to beg him not to go that day or to you know find a

different job or something like that where he's not going up the canyon and stuff.

I tried so hard, but he liked his job.

Delivering and picking up linens from local restaurants

might not sound like the most enjoyable job.

But Buddy was friendly with the people he met on his daily route, and he looked forward

to the conversations and the scenery.

And it was a job that paid him enough money, that his wife didn't have have to work and he could help his mom with a few things.

This was a Friday, so his first stop was one of Utah's most well-known restaurants, Loghaven.

It was located in one of the Valley's canyons and that meant he had a steep slick

climb ahead of him. He buttoned his shirt with bud, sewn on the chest, ran a comb through his thick

...