knew to wear gloves when he moved her body. He’d worn them when he removed the tarps from the packaging. He’d worn them when he rolled her lifeless body onto the first tarp and had kept them on as he wrapped her tightly into the second one. He’d worn them when he struggled to get her body into the back of his pickup truck. He’d even worn them as he drove alongside the Ohio River looking for the perfect dump site. But with too many scenarios for his borderline IQ to process, he forgot to wear them as he dumped her to the earth and into Boone County.
On the Sunday afternoon that followed, after a horrible night’s sleep, Snow’s paranoia returned and began to get the best of him. It occurred to him that he might not have been wearing his gloves when he dumped Volpenhein’s body, and he decided to go back to the field to retrieve the tarps. But when he arrived, “I saw police everywhere,” Snow said, never once showing any remorse for anything except not being able to find those shell casings and stupidly forgetting to wear his gloves. Again he panicked, removing his tailgate and bed liner with a pair of pliers, tossing them into a Dumpster, and fleeing to his brother’s house in Tennessee (where he was not welcomed with open arms). He ultimately returned to Kentucky and nervously awaited his fate, while Boone County detectives began working the case.
“The academy taught us, if nothing else, to think outside the box,” Detective Brian Cochran told us as the three of us, along with Detective Tim Carnahan, took mountain curves at high speeds, en route to one of the hidden treasures of Boone County—a place called Rabbit Hash. Rabbit Hash is an odd little place with a population bordering on one or two, with a newly elected Labrador retriever as the town’s mayor. At least it was a close race. The pig that ran against the retriever was a formidable candidate, but his platform didn’t resonate quite as well with the populace as the retriever’s. Good ol’ Kentucky.
Detective Tim Carnahan was the second person from Boone County to go through the academy’s program. Before he came through the program in 2003, Tim was admittedly retirement bound, burned out, tired of working scenes just to see the cases get pleaded out. Our program infused new life into him and his work, which Linda Tally Smith and everyone else could see. After reaching Rabbit Hash, we stood looking out on the banks of the Ohio River, drinking peach soda pops and sarsaparillas, talking about the academy, the sheriff’s department, and the John T. Snow murder case. “We’ve got great support from our sheriff,” Detective Carnahan said. They really do have a lot of support from the whole county. The synergy in all of Boone County is incredible. A brand-new sheriff’s office with state-of-the-art facilities allows the CSIs to hone their craft when crime happens to take a night off. They are the best at taking what they have learned and making it better. That is particularly true of Detective Brian Cochran, whom Smith affectionately calls “Beaker” or “Bill Nye the Science Guy.” We like to call him “CSI MacGyver.” He can make a forensic tool out of just about anything. Cochran is part of the new, younger generation of CSIs, who really push the limits of the science behind crime scene investigation. If he needs a piece of equipment, he simply builds it rather than paying hundreds of dollars from a forensic supply store. We visited the lab with Brian and Tim and saw many items that were as well made as, probably better than, some of the fancy things for sale. Cochran is fortunate that his department lets him be creative and play with new ideas and new techniques. And it’s paid off for them.
The Rabbit Hash General Store in Boone County, Kentucky.
HALLCOX & WELCH, LLC
“Most of what we do isn’t written down somewhere,” Detective Carnahan went on to explain. “Sometimes the thing you do on a crime scene is the first time
Elizabeth Rolls
Roy Jenkins
Miss KP
Jennifer McCartney, Lisa Maggiore
Sarah Mallory
John Bingham
Rosie Claverton
Matti Joensuu
Emma Wildes
Tim Waggoner