The mystery of the “Fort Worth Missing Trio” is certainly the American cold case I know best and the one that has captivated me more than any other.
I remember discovering it by chance during the lockdown days of the bleak spring of 2020, when almost all of us were confined at home.
I spent many hours at my computer, trying to pass the time and not think about the terrible daily bulletins on deaths and infections in Italy that monopolized television programs in those days, and the dangers to me and my loved ones.
I was thus delving deeper into what have always been my favorite interests, particularly true crime, and specifically cold cases—old unsolved cases. For some reason, I’ve always been particularly drawn to American unsolved cases (murders and disappearances).
So it was that one afternoon, I don’t even remember how anymore, while surfing the web, I stumbled upon this incredibly twisted and mysterious story, almost fascinating—if it weren’t for the fact that, for the families of the three girls at the center of it, some of whom are now my friends on Facebook, instead of fascinating it is still tragic and distressing today.
What immediately attracted me to this story, I won’t deny it, were the faces of the three young protagonists, three beautiful girls who weren’t yet adults, who were at the time the age of my sister or brother (who are much older than me).
The story of the “Missing Trio” might seem like a “simple” case, albeit unsolved: Rachel, Renee, and Julie, three very young girls from Fort Worth, Texas, decided to go Christmas shopping on December 23, 1974, at one of the largest shopping malls in the area and vanished into thin air.
All that remains of them is their car (now gone), driven by Rachel, the oldest of the three, and a letter in an envelope, apparently written by Rachel herself and addressed to her husband Tommy.
Then nothing more, only darkness. In reality, there are no certainties in this story, and nothing—to paraphrase Twin Peaks—is really as it seems. Rachel’s car was found in the mall parking lot, but there’s no definite proof that the three girls were actually there, nor that they were the ones who parked the car.
An alleged witness, who apparently worked at the record store in the mall, reportedly saw the three girls and even spoke with Rachel, but there’s no certainty that this witness ever really existed. The letter itself, signed by Rachel, which at the time led police to believe it was a voluntary disappearance, still today, after more than fifty years, cannot be attributed with certainty to Rachel.
And for many other figures in this mystery, even today their alibis are unknown, nor their actual role in the case.
The only thing I feel I can say with certainty is that the three girls did not leave voluntarily, but were victims of what in American police jargon is called “foul play”: a deception with fatal outcomes. Where this occurred, whether inside or outside the mall, or somewhere else entirely, I couldn’t say with certainty.
Just as no one can say with certainty who orchestrated this “foul play” against the girls: a friend, an acquaintance, a family member, a stranger, or perhaps one of the many serial killers who were roaming the Fort Worth area and Texas in those years.
Only that letter and that envelope that (perhaps) contained it remain, but it’s not even known with certainty where it was mailed from, or if it was ever actually mailed at all.
The mystery of Rachel, Renee, and Julie’s fate lies entirely in that handwriting that no one has ever been able to attribute to anyone, not even to Rachel with certainty. If they could do so, it would probably be the only way to solve the enigma. Rachel, Renee, and Julie were among us for a brief time, but no one knows where they ended up.
I discovered their story by chance during the bleak spring of the 2020 lockdown and decided to make it known in Italy with a book I’ve just completed, “The Mystery of the Fort Worth Missing Trio,” hoping that one day it might also be published in the United States.
