New & Coming Soon

One chill January night in 1867, a Virginia City prostitute was strangled to death in her bed.

The murderer was caught and hanged in front of a crowd of thousands, and the citizens of the Comstock considered the matter closed. More than 150 years later, the murder of Julia Bulette has become a local legend.

The man accused, John Millain, was suspected of killing before, but there would be no justice for those victims. Reduced to vague mentions in newspaper articles, little was left to tie their unsolved murders to that of Julia’s. Did John Millain leave a trail of tragedy that stretched from San Francisco’s Tenderloin neighborhood to Julia’s untimely end in Virginia City?

Author and award-winning journalist Robin Flinchum searches for the truth behind a string of murders in two of the richest cities in the early American West.

"Wickedest place in the wickedest section of Des Moines” —Des Moines Register

In the first decades of the twentieth century, saloon proprietor Erastus Wallace Scott of Des Moines—with his cousins in the infamous Carter Gang—operated a campaign of murder, fraud, corruption, and prostitution from his bar on East Court Avenue. In 1908, the local paper denounced the neighborhood as “given up almost entirely to houses of prostitution. At one end stands a notorious saloon, the scene of many crimes, even murders, and for years a harbor for criminals and a plotting place for the evil minded."

That reviled enterprise was none other than Scott’s seedy shack of sin. Initially, Scott gained the most notoriety, due to a slaying, numerous assaults, and sex trade associated with his establishment. But a subsequent murder brought cousin Will to the forefront. A land fraud scheme involving all three Carter brothers followed, including grand theft and even more deaths.

Authors David and Rose Donovan recount the long-forgotten story of a crime family’s nefarious reach beyond the red-light district.

Without reservation, she opened the door. Without hesitation, she hopped into the car, adjusting the skirt of her summer-weight navy blue suit to keep it unwrinkled as she sat down.

And just like that, 19-year-old Frances Cochran jumped into the void. 

On July 17, 1941, in Lynn, Massachusetts, attractive nineteen-year-old Frances Cochran stepped off a commuter bus and into a mysterious black automobile. Three days later, police discovered her mutilated body in a Salem lovers' lane.

Her murder made national headlines on the eve of World War II. Investigators checked twelve thousand cars and interviewed almost two thousand witnesses. They scrutinized a “Peeping Tom” men’s club. Despite leads that spanned the continent, decades passed and the killer was never caught. Like a poisonous vine, the death of Frances Cochran is tangled with other unsolved murders, including the 1947 Los Angeles Black Dahlia case.

As local author Rob Fitzgibbon reveals, it is also a story shrouded in the "Salem Factor,” the odd and inexplicable coincidences that occur in an area notorious for witchcraft and hauntings.

A Baffling and Brutal Case

Sunday, July 18, 1965, started out like any other hot summer day in Texas. Shirley Ann Stark and Susan Rigsby, Chi Omega sorority sisters at the University of Texas at Austin, left their Dallas homes early and drove together in Shirley’s Corvair to Austin. Little did they know the fate that awaited them later that afternoon as they visited the apartment of a friend and fellow UT student. The following day, the women were reported missing. A twelve-day nationwide search ensued, ending with the discovery of their bodies in a north Austin field. As one Associated Press reporter would later write, “The story held all the elements of a classic murder case: Campus beauties, youth, mystery, terror, and social standing.’’ Author Alan Burton revisits the forgotten, gruesome, and tragic double homicide that shook the Lone Star State. 

Discover the rambunctious early history of Roanoke, a Wild West town in Virginia’s Blue Ridge.

During the 1880s, the new city of Roanoke attracted a large and diverse workforce and a multitude of merchants and investors. But like the Western cow towns and mining camps of the same period, the city also attracted sex workers, professional gamblers, charlatans, and common thieves. By the early 1900s, Roanoke had become well known for its brothels, saloons, gambling halls, and rampant lawlessness.

Despite a campaign to clean up the city, Roanoke was unable to shake its unsavory image. This was particularly true after Virginia went dry in 1916. With easy access to the moonshine whiskey that had long been produced in the surrounding mountains, bootleg kingpins boldly transported illegal liquor into the city and used violence to protect their operations.

Author Phillip Andrew Gibbs explores Roanoke’s early criminal underworld and how civic leaders and law enforcement struggled to free the city from its wild, wicked, and unrepentant reputation.

A True Crime Mystery Four Decades in the Making

On the cold night of January 27, 1976, twenty-two-year-old college student Kyle Clinkscales vanished after leaving his bartending shift at the Moose Club in LaGrange, Georgia. His disappearance baffled investigators and devastated his parents, John and Louise, who spent decades chasing rumors, suspects, and false leads in one of the South’s most haunting cold cases.

For years, Kyle’s story became a staple in true crime circles, a case that blended small-town secrets, whispers of foul play, and the agony of parents who refused to give up. Then, in 2021, a shocking discovery was made: Kyle’s car submerged in an Alabama creek, with his remains inside. Suddenly, the case once thought frozen in time was thrust back into the spotlight.

Was Kyle’s tragic end the result of a simple accident? Or was it a carefully staged cover-up, concealing a brutal murder that eluded justice for nearly half a century? With modern forensic analysis and renewed investigative efforts, this chilling mystery raises more questions than answers.

Dive deep inside the twists and turns of Kyle Clinkscales’s disappearance and discovery—exploring law enforcement missteps, local rumors, and the enduring fight of a family unwilling to surrender hope. More than just a Southern true crime story, Kyle’s case helped inspire legislative reform for families of the missing, proving that even decades-old mysteries can change lives.

Author James B Longshore details the forty-plus-year ordeal. 

Go behind bars in the Wolverine State.

Almost every Michigan county had a jail, and if those walls could talk, they would speak of colorful sheriffs, vigilant turnkeys, and the motley population of prisoners housed in these county-run inns. St. Joseph County's “big house on the hill” nabbed headlines as the jail that held alleged Capone triggerman Fred “Killer” Burke, known as the most dangerous man alive at the time. Teenage robber Ray Rusch slipped away from the Genesee County Jail using a handful of pepper, and Ingham County Jail suffered from numerous infamous escapes in its day. Illegal hangings perpetrated by bloodthirsty mobs stained the pages of local history in Menominee, St. Clair, Shiawassee, and numerous other counties.

Author and crime historian Tobin T. Buhk leads an unforgettable tour of Michigan’s historic jails.