The stripper and the steelworker

It would be hard to imagine a more dreadful series of revelations for the Leppink family in Lakeview, Michigan.

First, Kent's parents received a bizarre letter from their son, a set of instructions: What to do in the event of his murder.

And then they learned that by the time the letter arrived here, Kent was already dead.

Betsy Leppink: It's called hell. It's called hell.

But who did it?  Who could possibly have wanted Kent dead?

The physical evidence was spare: three shell casings, two sets of footprints going up this rise and only one set coming back down again.

In his pockets at the time of his death: a copy of the change of beneficiary form on his life insurance policy, a receipt for the package he'd sent to his parents, and a name: Mechele Hughes.

Investigators went to her first.

Trooper: What can you tell me about Kent, that's what we're here to talk about.

Michelle Hughes: Um. We're engaged. We haven't been getting along so great...

Troopers, by the way, had at this point not yet told Mechele that Kent was dead.

They watched her reactions carefully.

Trooper: OK, you said you were engaged?

Michelle Hughes: Mm-hmm.

Trooper: ...you said you've been having some troubles?

Michelle Hughes: Well, not troubles troubles, um, we have a very unique relationship, it's a, um, how do you say, you know.

Trooper: Open relationship?

Michelle Hughes: No, like a conventional, not conventional, it's um, oh, it's a—

Trooper: Well, explain to me a little bit if you can.

Michelle Hughes: I have a boyfriend.

The boyfriend, said Mechele, was Scott, that traveling salesman who'd moved back to California.

She explained that she and Kent had a business together -- Kent's fishing tender.

But they weren't romantic. Or at least, she wasn't. They'd never even had sex, she said.

Trooper 2: OK. So your relationship with Kent is not as a fiancé? Or is it?

Michelle Hughes: It's a fiancé, yes. We don't have any dates set, um, he's in and out with his family, he's not in good relations with his family, so basically I let him tell his family I was his fiancée, only met them once.

Trooper 2: I see.

Trooper: OK.

Michelle Hughes: So, technically, because I said I was his fiancée to his family, I am, but no, we don't plan on getting married.

Did he have any enemies? Financial trouble? After 20 minutes, Mechele had grown impatient.

What, she wondered, was this about?

Michelle Hughes: Where is he?

Trooper: Well, we're not gonna mess around with it anymore. It's, he's dead. Ah, his body was found. And that's why we're here and that's why it's real serious…

Michelle Hughes: How?

Trooper 2: How?

Trooper: I can't tell you that. We can't, we can't give a, a lot of information out here. OK?

Through her tears, Mechele told the troopers Kent had been acting very strangely lately, was delusional about their relationship. She said she'd merely allowed him to tell his family they were engaged so he could hide a secret from them.

Trooper: Mechele? Is he homosexual?

Michelle Hughes: I don't know, I guess he's bisexual. I don't know!

Trooper: Oh, he's never shared that with you?

Michelle Hughes: He likes guys.

Trooper: He likes guys, OK.

Michelle Hughes: But his family doesn't know that.

Trooper: I see.

Michelle Hughes: I don't want them to know that.

Two days later, investigators were back, asking if she knew of anyone with a motive to kill Kent.

Trooper: Do you know of any, if anybody has anything to gain from Kent’s death?

Michelle Hughes: No, other than, um, life insurance.

Trooper: Life insurance?

Michelle Hughes: Me, yeah.

At that, the investigator's ears perked up. Life insurance can certainly be a motive for murder.

But it's not like Mechele was trying to hide the insurance. 

Oh, and, by the way? When Kent was murdered, she was thousands of miles away, down at Lake Tahoe, visiting Scott Hilke.

But what about John Carlin III? He was in Anchorage at the time of the murder.

Investigators knew from bullets recovered from Kent's body and shell casings found at the scene that whoever killed him had done so with a .44 caliber pistol called a Desert Eagle. But they'd never found the gun.

They questioned John Carlin: Did he own a Desert Eagle?

Trooper: One thing I didn't ask you the last time I spoke to you ah, John, was I wanted to ask you, ah, we talked about a ah, 44 gun. But I didn't ask you specifically if you had owned a Desert Eagle 44.

John Carlin III: No.

Trooper: OK. You never bought one of those anywhere?

John Carlin III: Nope.

And thousands of miles away, in Michigan, here was Betsy Leppink, trying to make sense of it.

Betsy Leppink: We have three other wonderful sons. We love 'em to pieces. But no one can take his place, ever.

When the family learned of Kent's murder, they followed that strange instruction he had given them, and opened the second envelope, the one sealed inside his letter, and were stunned by what Kent had written:

"Since you're reading this, you assume that I'm dead. Don't dwell on that. It was my time and there is nothing that can change that."

Then:

"I hate to be vindictive in my death, but paybacks are hell."

And later, the bombshell:

"Use the information enclosed to take Mechele DOWN. Make sure she is prosecuted."

And then,

"Mechele, John or Scott were the people or persons that probably killed me. Make sure they get burned."

Ransom Leppink: My brother was not a letter writer. If he sat down and took the time to write a letter and send it to my parents just before he was murdered, that's what happened. That's exactly what happened.

In his letter, Kent said he'd call to explain just what he meant. But of course, he never got the chance.

Could the man have accurately predicted the identity of his own killers? It was certainly macabre, but not exactly evidence you could take to a jury.

And before long, just weeks really, the three friends Kent fingered in his letter... scattered, left Alaska, moved back to where they'd come from.

Ten years passed. 

And each year, the question of who killed Kent Leppink faded deeper into obscurity.

The chance of solving it diminished, it seemed, to virtually nil.

Of course, for the Leppink family it wasn't over. It never would be. But they'd pretty much given up on ever getting the answers they craved. And then, suddenly, the investigation, like Lazarus, rose from the dead. Alaska state troopers found themselves with sufficient funding for a cold case squad. There was the Leppink murder practically begging for a solution. So they re-interviewed the cast of characters, now scattered nationwide, and what do you know. A remarkable piece of evidence hitherto entirely unknown jumped right up and said hello.

John Carlin IV: Do I regret ever mentioning it? Absolutely. It's the biggest regret of my life.

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