My entire life, I've been fascinated by mysteries. Mostly true crime, but in general, stories that have no ending.

In 2015, armed with nothing more than years of experience working in libraries and a $10 microphone, I launched my podcast, Unresolved.

Join me, Michael Whelan, as I dive deep into some of the most interesting, unique, horrifying, tragic, and oftentimes obscure rabbit holes, some of which you've heard of, many of which you probably haven't.

Listen or subscribe to Unresolved on Apple Music, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcast.

Gone Cold Podcasts may contain violent or graphic subject matter.

Listener discretion is advised.

In 1996, Bedford, Texas wasn't the kind of place where people locked their doors before sunset.

It wasn't polished or perfect, but it felt safe.

The church parking lots were full on Wednesday nights,

minivans and pickup trucks lining the rows.

There were streets and cul-de-sacs lined with brick,

ranch-style homes and chain-link fences, large apartment complexes,

little league fields. Kids on bikes cut through alleys and drainage easements like they owned the

city, and in the suburbs mid-1990s, they more or less did. Bedford sits in the heart of what North Texans call the mid-cities,

a 10-square-mile patch of suburbia squeezed between Dallas and Fort Worth. If you drive west on

airport freeway, you'll be in Fort Worth, east, and you'll eventually hit downtown Dallas. Bedford is right in the

middle. Back in the 1850s, before there were traffic lights, school zones, or apartment complexes

with names like whispering oaks. The unnamed area wasn't much more than timber, prairie grass, and wagon ruts.

Settlers came in slow, built farms, churches, and schools, and by the 1870s, when families

from Bedford County, Tennessee began settling there, they gave the community its name.

A man named Weldon Wiles Bobo ran one of the town's earliest stores, and for a while, Bedford

looked like it might become one of the bigger towns in Northeast Terrant County.

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