by Anna L. Goemer
I worked for the Bethel Police Department (BPD) from 2008-2010. One unsolved case that still haunts my thoughts is Stella A. Evon, born 2/11/79, disappeared on 9/29/1996, a Sunday with temperatures between 36-47 F degrees and no rain.
On that morning around 3-4am, Stella had unsuccessfully tried to enter her grandma’s locked house after spending the night with friends. The police gave Stella a ride to her sister’s apartment, a couple of miles away. Between 5-6 am, Stella allegedly left the apartment and disappeared. No one saw Stella alive again.
How can a petite young lady just disappear in Bethel, a village of less than eight thousand people and little roadways, a village with a strong Yup’ik heritage, culture, and subsistence way of life. A village where everyone knows everything about everyone else. For years, people, including myself, have asked, “Stella, where are you?”
In the winter of 2009-2010 on patrol in Bethel, I received a call of a “snowgo” breaking through the ice in a lake with a man in the water. I rushed to the scene and with the help of an amazing teen, we rescued the man and the snowmachine.
After leaving the man with the ambulance crew which had just arrived, I rushed to my patrol vehicle. I was soaking wet from my head to my toes. Being the only patrol officer on duty that day, I hurriedly stripped off all my clothes, emptied standing water and ice from my gear and boots, and put on dry pants, my clean coat, and my wet boots, nothing more. The dispatch radioed a domestic violence (DV) call when I was up to my waist in the frigid water.
The DV call was between a man and a woman on the 2nd Road of housing near the Senior Center. I rushed to the call. My Lieutenant was not happy performing patrol work which was below him and reprimanded me. He sternly said the fire department’s job is to rescue drowning idiots who drive on thin ice. My Lieutenant happily left the scene after telling me to do my job. Being cold to the point of my teeth chattering and without underwear, getting my panties in a bunch over hypocrisies was not an option.
I investigated the domestic violence call. Only the man was at the address. The lady had left before my arrival. The man’s spirit told me we were both involved in unwinnable battles today.
As I was leaving the scene, the man said, “She is in the well.”
I replied, “Who is in the well?”
He said, “Stella.”
I asked, “What well?”
He responded, “The one near Fish and Wildlife.”
Then the man shut the door and said no more. When I returned for more answers, he would not answer the door. Strangely, Stella’s last known place was nearby this DV.
Even though the man gave the information under strange circumstances, the information was credible. Stella was five foot tall, one hundred pounds, if that. She could easily fit in a well. Rarely do people go missing without a trace. The scenario was plausible.
I reported the man’s statements to the BPD Sergeant of Investigations. Then I asked the locals questions. I unsuccessfully searched the internet for clues. I walked areas of Bethel in my free time and between patrol calls. At that time, Bethel had snow, making locating a well difficult. The snow remained until after I permanently left Bethel in March of 2010. I never found the well. Despite my efforts, the question remained, “Stella, where are you?”
I later wrote to the State Trooper’s Cold Case Unit. I recontacted the BPD Sergeant of Investigations. Nothing ever became of this lead. Stella’s case still haunts my thoughts. She and her family remain in my prayers.
Fast forward to a Sunday morning in August 2023, a young Anchorage lady named Saria, age 21, goes missing, after drinking and celebrating with her husband and friends the night before. By Wednesday afternoon, police, military, drones, and search teams with tracking dogs had not located Saria. People hoped she was still alive.
During this time, I was under stress. My mother had two serious strokes in Pennsylvania but was unable to have visitors. Although I had been retired from police work for years, my daughter encouraged me to canvass the area of Saria’s last known location. My daughter said, “Mom you are an excellent investigator, lived in her complex, were a military spouse and in the military just like her, know that area from your daily walks, and have a gift for certain work. Instead of worrying about your mother, go help Saria’s family.”
I took my daughter’s advice.
Around 2-3 pm on Wednesday, I and my tracking-recovery dog, Idabelle, walked the area. Within an hour, I found a new, 96-gallon, plastic, garbage can with wheels on its side, hidden in the woods near the suspect’s apartment. Inside the can were pools of blood, hair, and a bloody paper towel. I saw wheel tracks leading to an above ground storm drain which was a cemented culvert with a heavy three-foot lid. The culvert was on a dead-end gravel road, yards from a busy roadway, but hidden by foliage. Idabelle was excited, barking, and laying down by both the trash can and the culvert. My training, experiences, observations, and intuition, all told me Saria was in that storm drainage hole. My thoughts went to Stella, who may also be in a well.
I immediately reported my findings that Wednesday to a nearby Anchorage Police Department (APD) male officer sitting in a patrol car about a 5-minute walk away. He was waiting by the victim’s apartment building for search warrant services. I offered to bring him the large garbage can, to wait for detectives, and to show him the can and sewer drain. The officer refused my three offers. I told him I put the trash can next to the above ground storm drainage culvert, just walk down that gravel road, which I pointed out and he could see. I told him the suspect could easily put a body in the trash can, wheel it the culvert, and throw it down the hole.
I told him my police experience to include my homicide investigation training. I told him my DNA and fingerprints were on the trash can lid and handle. Years from now, I did not want to be a suspect. I gave the officer my driver’s license and phone number. He wrote it down with no sense of excitement or urgency which worried me. I made him promise he would look and tell the investigators as soon as possible.
Besides telling that police officer about my findings, I told my husband, daughter, friends, and neighbors. All believed, more likely than not, Saria was in that hole and the hole needed check. We agreed lifting the lid off and checking the hole were the police’s jobs. We did not want to contaminate the scene by looking in the hole ourselves. In fact, on Wednesday night one of the people I told posted my findings on Reddit. After receiving hate mail and threats, the poster deleted the Reddit post. However, Saria’s family members screen-printed the post and gave it to APD.
To my surprise, I learned that the APD officer, whom I contacted, did nothing. The police found Saria exactly where I said on Thursday evening, over 26 hours later. She had a bullet hole in her temple. Maintenance people recovered the trash can far away from the culvert. On Thursday, the police learned the suspect (the husband) bought the trash can at a popular hardware store after Saria’s death.
Why wasn’t Saria found on Wednesday? On Friday, I called people and sent emails, even to the Chief of Police, military members, city council, APD sergeants, and city council members. The responses ranged from blaming to justifying. One city council member told me to write a police report if I found a dead body. A worldly woman said, “Systematic failure, white male dominated policing typically discredits and downplays information coming from you, a woman, involving a violent crime against another woman. The failure worsens when people of color are involved.”
Frustrating, I began to wonder if I would ever help the police again.
Finally, on Tuesday, a week after I found the evidence, two APD investigators talked to me and let me show them where I found the can. Those investigators apologized, thanked me for my efforts and time, appreciated my information, and said my actions helped recover Saria. Persistence pays, plus finding the right officers.
While dealing with APD, I was thinking of Stella. Saria and Stella had so much in common. Both were beautiful young ladies. Both had loving families who wanted their bodies found, wanted closure, and wanted to give them proper burials. Both Stella and Saria had been with friends on Saturday night/Sunday morning. They disappeared shortly after being at familiar places and with familiar people. Loved ones said they were last seen walking away from their homes to other places. Both disappeared under questionable circumstances. Saria was in a hole. Stella may be in a well.
This week I re-googled Bethel wells. I discovered pubs.usgs.gov “Overview of Environmental and Hydrogeologic Conditions at Bethel, Alaska” by Dorava and Hogan, a 49-page report with Bethel maps and well locations. The paper stated the FAA owned four wells with only Well 2, near the airport, being operational. If anyone knows where these wells are or any other wells, please check for Stella.
Bethel is a small town. People know each other, are related, and trust one another. People believe in karma and heaven. People talk. Did the authorities disregard any initial information? Someone had to have heard something. If you know anything, even seemingly inconsequential, report it until someone listens. Today is not too late.
Go to Bethel’s Chief of Police. Email [email protected]. Go to https://dps.alaska.gov/AST/Tips. Call the Trooper Cold Case Unit: 907-269-5038. Write the governor at https://gov.alaska.gov/contact/email-the-governor/ . Write me at [email protected]. Ask for replies.
A big city like Anchorage found Saria. Surely, Bethel, a small village with a strong community, can pull people and resources together and find Stella. Let us answer the question finally, “Stella, where are you?”
Anna L. Goemer is a retired Bethel Police Department Officer.
