My father was murdered a month and a half ago. The horrific double homicide of Chip Northup and Claudia Maupin remains an unsolved mystery. The community is frightened to know that there may be a monster among us.
It is difficult to grieve without some kind of understanding of why two wonderful people were brutally slaughtered. It is also difficult to grieve while my sons both remain the focus of an investigation that grinds on endlessly.
On Friday, nearly seven weeks into the investigation, detectives came to my apartment and to my older son’s apartment for the third time in order to collect “evidence.” Today, they want to enter my son’s apartment, once again, in search of more “evidence.”
Two highly visible searches involving about a dozen uniformed police have convinced my neighbors that we are psycho killers. My sons and I have voluntarily consented to multiple searches, and we have voluntarily cooperated through more than 50 hours of questioning.
I have lost confidence in the ability of our Police Department to solve this crime. I wish to be able to grieve my father’s death, but I am caught in the darkest part of the cloud of mystery surrounding his murder.