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To read day two trial coverage, click here. 

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A trove of witnesses gave testimony scattered across the timeline attorneys have been piecing together throughout a trial assessing Quentin Lamont Porter, Jr.’s innocence in the murder of Malik Darea Sims. 

Several discussed what happened to Sims’ gray Audi A4, which was found by police near Indianapolis, outside of Porter’s grandmother’s house. 

Sims was found dead with a single gunshot wound to the head on July 15, 2024, off Stephenson Road in Owen County. He had last been seen with Porter, when he allegedly gave him a ride. 

According to public defender Megan Schueler, Porter claimed Sims was killed by someone who pulled up in a white SUV. Schueler said Porter was scared for his life and thought the incident might have to do with marijuana. 

Law enforcement used Flock Safety cameras, Snapchat data and business surveillance cameras to track Sims’ vehicle and phone from his Bloomington apartment, through Ellettsville, to the location he was found and up to the Indianapolis area. 

Makayla Moore told Owen County Prosecutor Benjamin Kim that she was at her grandmother’s house when Porter, her cousin, arrived around 11 p.m. July 14, 2024.

On July 23, 2026, the third day of Porter’s trial, she said no one was expecting him when he showed up that night. The house was asleep. She didn’t talk to him that night, but saw him through the doorbell camera. She had never seen the vehicle he was driving before. 

He had allegedly arrived in Sims’ Audi A4. 

Porter wasn’t at the residence when police came on July 16, 2024. Indiana State Police evidence technicians processed the vehicle the next morning, finding blood, bleach and seat covers. 

On July 17, Jared Lentz, who owns JL Transport Towing and Recovery in Bloomington, received a call from someone claiming to be Malik Sims, asking to tow a car. The person paid with Sims’ credit card. 

Lentz had heard about Sims’ death on the news that morning, but said in his testimony that he didn’t make the connection and couldn’t remember where he had heard the name before. 

He sent a driver out to tow the car from an address on the east side of Indianapolis, but when he got there, he couldn’t find the car. 

Moore said a tow driver appeared at her grandmother’s house looking for the Audi A4, which police had already towed themselves, and her family explained that it was gone.

The towing company called the number that had requested the tow. 

“I tried calling the number back at least a dozen times,” Lentz said.

It turned out that the number belonged to Mia Hilkowitz, who was a student at Indiana University at the time. 

She told the courtroom that on July 17, someone approached her at the pool at her apartment in Bloomington, and asked to use her phone. He said his car broke down and his phone was dead. 

He returned it a few minutes later. After the man left, she received a text message with a towing bill. She started getting calls from a tow truck company, saying they were looking to tow a car. Eventually she picked up and told them it wasn’t hers. 

Later, one of Lentz’ drivers told him where he must’ve remembered Sims’ name from, and he called the police. 

Max Rollins with Saguaro Forensic Consulting Firm, the firm that performed Sims’ autopsy, was brought in as a witness after Lentz. Rollins is a forensic pathologist and told the jury his job includes determining the cause and manner, or circumstance, of a person’s death.

In Sims’ case, the cause of death was a gunshot wound, and the manner was a homicide, Rollins said. 

While the autopsy was performed on July 18, Sims’ body was in a state of decomposition. Rollins said there was “extensive larvae activity” around the neck, armpit and face. 

The defects caused by maggots eating tissue and laying eggs can obscure examiners’ analysis of injuries. 

The autopsy report was still able to show that the bullet entered through the left temple, near the trachus, and exited near the right temple. However, the decomposition had changed the head severely enough that the skin couldn’t be used to determine the distance of the gunfire. Rollins said he didn’t recall seeing soot on the entrance of the wound, which would indicate it wasn’t a contact headshot. 

Rollins also said he found a small bullet fragment in Sims’ head. 

The amount of decomposition that had occurred also made it extremely difficult to determine the time of Sims’ death, Rollins said. 

Later, the court heard testimony from several Ellettsville business owners, who shared their surveillance footage of the road with law enforcement. 

The trial is ongoing and is expected to take place over the course of eight days. 

Ongoing trial coverage

• Day one
• Day two
• Day four‍
• Day five‍
• Day six

To read day one trial coverage, click here. 

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Most nights, Malik Sims played video games with his friends. They would play Call of Duty, Fortnite or an edition of NBA 2K. 

On the night he went missing, he wasn’t online. His username didn’t show up as active. 

The night he went missing, on July 14, 2024, he had made plans with a girl. But as the day went on, she stopped receiving messages from him. 

The next day, Jennifer Hawkins was driving along a gravel stretch of Stephenson Road, near the Owen-Monroe county line. She saw what looked like someone laying on their left side, head down. She called 911. 

Sims was found dead with a black plastic bag over his head, covering up a single gunshot wound.

On July 22, 2026, Sims’ friends sat at the witness stand in the Owen County Courthouse, recounting the last communication they had with him the weekend he died. Hawkins shared what she saw at the scene. Law enforcement offiers detailed the steps they took to investigate.

Sims’ friends and roommate also told the prosecutors what they knew about Quentin Lamont Porter, Jr., the 27-year-old Bloomington man charged with murder, auto theft, identity deception and theft in connection with Sims’ death.

On July 13, the day before Sims disappeared, his roommate at the time, Tyler Roudebush interacted with Porter several times. Porter had come to their apartment, asking for Sims. 

“He was acting kinda strange,” Roudebush said. “He was profusely sweating. He didn't look like a normal, taken care of person. It was odd.” Porter was jittery, wearing a white tank top and a backpack filled to the brim, Roudebush said. 

Roudebush woke Sims up. A couple hours later, Porter was back. One time he knocked on the door that day, he asked if Roudebush would sell him marijuana, something that Sims did in small quantities, Roudebush said. 

“I told him no, that I don't do that,” he said. 

Public defender Megan Scheuler asked Roudebush if he knew of Sims being indebted to anyone. Roudebush denied it. 

The next day, Porter allegedly came back about three times. Roudebush said he saw him for the last time between 4 and 5 p.m. 

On July 15, Jayden Street, one of Sims’ close friends, received a phone call from his mother, telling him that Sims was missing. Their mothers were friends and Sims’ had not been able to find him.

Street and Sims shared locations with each other on Find My iPhone. Street saw that Sims’ location last registered 22 hours ago. He drove to that location, which ended up being the scene police were already investigating. 

Street also said he has known Porter, who was often referred to as QP, since fifth-grade, and was friends with him. 

“Did you know if there was any beef, so to speak, between him [Sims] and QP?” Scheuler asked. 

Street said he did not. 

Tyshawn Pruitt also had Sims’ location. He gave it to their mutual friend Kevin Mimms, who said he grew up with Sims. Mimms used the location, which had last registered near Indianapolis. He drove to the location and found what appeared to be Sims’ car, an Audi A4. But, there were trash bags covering the windows. 

Mimms told Owen County Prosecutor Benjamin Kim that this was unusual for Sims. Later, Indiana State Police evidence technicians found blood, bleach traces and spray paint on the interior. According to a probable cause affidavit, Porter’s grandmother and family members told officers Porter arrived at his grandmother’s residence in the Audi A4 at 11 p.m. on July 14, 2024. 

Spencer Police Department Officer Benjamin Muncie described to the courtroom the work he did to track Sims’ phone using Snapchat data. He also obtained records from Enterprise Rent-A-Car, O’Reilly Auto Parts, T-Mobile and various businesses for surveillance video. 

The data showed Sims’ location moving from his Bloomington apartment through Ellettsville on the route he was believed to take to the place he was found. Public defender Jacob Fish asked Muncie if, of the 1,500 locations the Snapchat data returned to him, he could tell that Sims had been to the location he was found more than once. 

Muncie said he looked through everything, but wasn’t able to say with certainty.

FBI Special Agent Nicole Robertson also outlined the path Sims’ phone took that day, using a  historical cell-site analysis. That data shows what cell towers handled a phone’s connection during a certain period of time. Using timing advance data, analysts can determine the distance of a device from a specific tower. After 6:39 pm July 14, Robertson found no activity until the following day at 2:46 pm, when the phone was in Lawrence, Indiana, near Indianapolis. 

The trial is ongoing and expected to take approximately eight days. 

Ongoing trial coverage

• Day one
• Day three
• Day four‍
• Day five‍
• Day six

Malik Darea Sims, a 23-year-old from Bloomington, was killed by a single gunshot wound to the head in July 2024. 

On July 21, 2026, 12 jurors were selected at the Owen County Courthouse to determine whether or not Quentin Lamont Porter, Jr. was responsible. 

Sims’ body was found by a passerby about 20 feet from Stephenson Road near the Owen-Monroe County line with a black plastic bag pulled over his head. 

Owen Circuit Court I Judge Don VanDerMoere II said Porter’s trial is expected to take eight days. He is being charged with murder, auto theft, identity deception and theft. 

At the trial, Chief Deputy Prosecutor Parker Trulock said the jury will see photos, physical evidence and business records and watch surveillance video and a recorded interview with Porter and law enforcement. They will hear accounts from a forensic entomologist, witnesses, officers, detectives and attorneys representing Porter and the State of Indiana. 

During the jury selection process, voir dire, VanDerMoere, Owen County Prosecutor Benjamin Kim and public defender Jacob Fish asked the potential jurors if they had any connection to the case and how they determine someone’s credibility. They inquired how the jury pool felt about marijuana, if they watch true crime television shows, if they had been victims of a violent crime and what reasonable doubt means to them, among other topics. 

Of the 200 summoned for jury duty, 84 appeared. The selection process went through about eight rounds before the jury box was filled and two alternates were selected. 

After, the jurors were sworn in and VanDerMoere read the preliminary instructions. He asked them to keep an open mind throughout the trial, consider all the information and evidence, refrain from doing research or discussing the case with non-jurors and remember that people charged with crimes are presumed to be innocent. 

With the picks solidified, the attorneys presented their opening statements — a “roadmap” of what the attorneys expect the evidence to show, Trulock said. 

As for the prosecutor’s fight for Porter, 27, to be found guilty, the evidence will show what Porter allegedly did, said and how his account compares to the evidence. It shows that Sims was shot and killed, a passerby found his body and the victim’s car, driver’s license and credit card was gone, Trulock said. 

“Everything in the case comes back to that one question: Who murdered Malik Sims?” Trulock said. “Standing alone, no single piece [of evidence] answers the question.”

Put together, it will, he said.

Trulock said the recorded interview between Porter and the law enforcement officers is one of the most important pieces of evidence. Porter admitted that Sims gave him a ride, that they left together and that Sims was never seen alive again, he said. 

The attorney encouraged the jury to pay attention to Porter’s word choice in the video and compare what he says with the evidence. 

Trulock said Porter claims that someone pulled up in a white SUV and killed Sims. Following his death, Porter didn’t call 911, report the SUV or seek medical attention for Sims, Trulock alleged.

Instead, he allegedly drove off in Sims’ 2012 Audi A4. 

Law enforcement tracked the vehicle using Flock Safety data and cameras and found it was driven to an Indianapolis address registered to Porter’s grandmother, according to a probable cause affidavit. 

During a search of the residence, Porter’s grandmother and family members told officers Porter arrived at the residence in the Audi A4 at 11 p.m. on July 14, 2024. He told them the vehicle “was going to be his” after being asked if it belonged to him.

Later, Indiana State Police evidence technicians found blood, bleach traces and spray paint on the interior. Porter was charged with theft of Sims’ cell phone, driver’s license and credit card. He allegedly used Sims’ card to purchase seat covers found in the vehicle and to tow it from Indianapolis to Bloomington. 

“Investigators followed the evidence wherever it led,” Trulock said. 

The court must prove everything Porter was charged with beyond a reasonable doubt, Trulock said. 

Public defender Megan Schueler gave her statement after Trulock. She said some of his questions were valid, but that by the end of the trial, the jurors will not know who murdered Sims. 

Following Porter’s account of Sims’ death, that someone in a white SUV shot him, Scheuler said he was scared for his life. 

“My client got the heck out of there when he saw someone murder his friend,” she said. 

Porter thought the incident might have to do with marijuana, which Schueler said Sims sold.

Scheuler agreed with Trulock that the video interview is an important piece of evidence, but shows something different than he claimed. 

“He tells the officers — which the state neglected to tell you — that he did try to help his friend,” Schueler said. Porter tried to limit the bleeding and couldn’t carry Sims. Regarding the stolen items, those were in the vehicle Porter used to flee the situation, she said. 

Scheuler also said the identity theft allegation is “a little murky.” Porter may have used Sims’ card, but he signed his own name and used his own rewards card, she said. 

The attorney asserted that Porter was interrupted in the video interview at least 19 times and told what happened instead of being asked actual questions. 

Porter’s public defender said even more evidence complicates the case, such as how Sims’ blood was found on Porter’s gun, but Porter’s DNA was not. 

“All of the forensics in the world cannot tell you anything about who killed Malik Sims,” Scheuler said. 

The trial began yesterday, July 21, hearing evidence to establish the purchase of a Taurus 9 millimeter handgun from Ace Pawn in Bloomington on July 9, 2024 through business records and testimony before breaking for the day. 

Ongoing trial coverage

• Day two
• Day three
• Day four‍
• Day five‍
• Day six

Thirty years have passed since the headlights of a red Pontiac Trans Am cut through the night air on U.S. 231/67 just north of Spencer. There, a single gunshot shattered the quiet of July 17, 1996, cutting short the life of 18-year-old Bryan Edward Haltom and leaving an enduring wound in the heart of Owen County.

Today, the case remains one of the area’s most prominent unsolved mysteries—a stack of files transferred years ago from local custody to the Indiana State Police. For Haltom’s mother, Lynn Carmichael Highland, the passage of time hasn’t faded the memory of her fun-loving son, who was born on Christmas Day, 1977, nor has it quieted the agonizing questions that have lingered for half a lifetime.

Before he walked out the door that night during what was a typically busy county fair week, a mother and son shared a familiar, lighthearted exchange.

“We used to say… we’d do the ‘I love you more’ thing,” Highland shared in a recent retrospective interview from her home in Florida where she lives with her husband, Tom Highland. “That’s the last thing I said to him, I said ‘have fun, I love you more.’ That was it. I’m just so thankful we weren’t arguing over anything though. I see so many parents that, you know, they’re arguing with their child... but they leave. And you know, that’s the last time they see them. And I’m so grateful we weren’t fighting.”

Late to the wheel

Given his father Ed Haltom’s background as a mechanic, it seemed almost inevitable that Bryan Haltom would develop a passion for cars—even if it took him a little longer than most teenagers to get behind the wheel. When he finally showed an interest in driving at 17, his parents began searching for a reliable vehicle.

“His dad was a mechanic, but Bryan didn’t actually get his license until he was about 17,” Highland recalled. “He really wasn’t interested in getting it right when he turned 16, and he didn’t even take driver’s ed. I think I was more interested in him getting it than he was, just so I could quit bussing him around while his dad and I were working.”

When the time came to pick out a vehicle, a clash of styles quickly emerged. While his mother had a sensible, practical vehicle in mind, Haltom had entirely different ideas about what his first set of wheels should look like.

“When he finally got interested, we started looking for a car. I definitely wanted him to get a Volkswagen Beetle, and he was like, ‘No way, Mom,’” Highland said.

The standoff didn’t last long. A chance conversation at work opened the door to an affordable compromise that combined a teenager’s dream car with a project his mechanic father could easily handle.

“Around that time, I was talking to a coworker at Boston Scientific who had a Pontiac Trans Am for sale,” Highland explained. “I told her I was looking for a car for Bryan and asked what she wanted for it. It wasn’t much at all—only about $1,000 or $1,500, because it had been wrecked a little bit in the front. It had a bra over the front that covered the damage, so it didn’t really make a difference, and Ed could fix anything wrong with it mechanically.”

Any lingering thoughts of a practical Volkswagen vanished the moment Haltom laid eyes on the red sports car. It was, his mom recalled, love at first sight.

“When we went out to look at it, Bryan’s eyes got huge. There went the VW right out the window,” Highland said. “We bought it from her, and he just fell in love with it. It had T-tops, and it was a four-speed, so Ed taught him how to drive it. We brought it home, and that was his car.”

A fateful ride and competing accounts

The evening of July 16, 1996, began like many others during an Indiana summer. The Owen County Fair was drawing crowds of teenagers into town, and though Haltom had initially planned to stay home, he headed out to meet friends after a phone call, agreeing to an 11 p.m. curfew his mom recalled.

Later that night, Haltom reportedly connected with Trevor Powell in the parking lot of Fulk’s OV Restaurant (today the site of Byers Home Furnishings). Powell was described by Highland as more of a casual acquaintance than a close friend.

According to early statements provided to police by Powell, the sequence of events that followed was framed as an escalating teenage night. Powell contended that they were traveling in Haltom’s Trans Am when another vehicle—described as a sporty maroon or dark red import—struck or passed them near Main and Morgan streets.

According to Powell’s original account, an angered Haltom allegedly ran a red light, sped up to catch the maroon car, turned north on Fletcher Ave., passed it and pulled onto the shoulder less than a mile north of State Road 46. Powell claimed Haltom then exited his vehicle and walked back toward the trailing car, where a shot was fired from within the suspect vehicle, striking Haltom in the chest. Investigative files later revealed the weapon used was believed to be a .38 caliber semi-automatic handgun.

For decades, Haltom’s family has found this road-rage sequence difficult to accept. Bryan’s father publicly doubted the logistics of that timeline.

“I still don’t believe what he’s telling me... you run a car 80 miles an hour down through the middle of town, somebody’s going to notice,” Ed Haltom noted in a 2000 interview printed in The Spencer Evening World. “It would be difficult for any car to wait completely through a red light at Main and Morgan and catch up with a second vehicle by Fletcher.”

Dispatch chaos and the midnight hunt

Archival accounts from the first responding officers paint a vivid picture of the immediate, chaotic aftermath of the shooting. Former Owen County Sheriff’s Department Chief Deputy Joe Pettijohn recalled that the fair had just wound down when the call fractured the night.

“Everyone had dispersed from the fair; I was off and hadn’t been home more than 30 minutes, and I got a call from dispatch,” Pettijohn noted in an interview with The Spencer Evening World in 2011. “They told me they had a shooting on Epitomist Hill (just north of Boston Scientific), and they had a report that the suspect was driving a red mid-sized car, no make or model, and headed north.”

Pettijohn immediately mobilized toward Gosport, parking just past where the Casey’s General Store stands today. Meanwhile, Sheriff Steve Cradick dispatched every available unit to strategic county lines.

“All notifications were made to area emergency personnel, Spencer Police and the sheriff’s department,” Pettijohn recalled. “All we knew was we were looking for a red, mid-sized car. Ellettsville, Bloomington, Greene County, Morgan County, Putnam County, all of the notifications were made... everybody was looking for a red car... we would have probably stopped a red Volkswagen even.”

Despite the massive net cast across southern Indiana, the shooter slipped away. Indiana State Police Evidence Technician J.D. Maxwell arrived on the scene shortly after the shooting, according to previous accounts, confirming the road was locked down north and south, but the suspected vehicle’s direction of travel was eventually reported as changing toward the south.

Powell’s early description of the gunman was documented: a well-built male, roughly 30-years-old at the time, with dark hair and a two-day-old beard. Yet, as years dragged into decades, street gossip contaminated the official record.

“You had all kinds of people calling in saying, ‘I think so and so did it,’” Pettijohn lamented. “Word of mouth travels around... People just made their own assumptions. There was only one known witness to the crime.”

Pettijohn, who served with the sheriff’s department for more than 20 years before retiring, passed away on April 16, 2026, at the age of 63.

A mistaken accident, a shocking truth

The evening began normally, with Haltom leaving the house in the late afternoon. Highland recalled the timeline of that night and her strict rules regarding her son’s curfew.

“Bryan left the house at approximately 4 to 4:15 p.m. I had to be at work the next morning, so by 10 p.m., I went to bed. I usually got up at 5 [a.m.]. When I told him to be home at a [certain] time, he better be home at that time or I’d take his car keys and he’d be grounded,” she said. “Not everyone had a cell phone then, so I always worried about him. Bryan was rarely ever late. If he was, he always had a good reason, and if he could get to a phone he called.”

As midnight approached, his dad grew anxious when his son failed to return home. While Highland said the police later claimed they tried to call the house, she disputed their account.

“Ed was outside working on a truck. Around 12 a.m., Ed came in and woke me to tell me Bryan wasn’t home yet,” Highland recalled. “He was worried that maybe he should go in [to town] and look. I looked at the clock and said to give him a few more minutes, that he must have had car trouble—a flat tire or something. Ed ended up falling asleep in the recliner, and we both fell asleep. The cops later said that they tried to call us and our phone was off the hook, which was very, very strange. I honestly never did believe it; our phone was not off the hook.”

The quiet night was abruptly shattered around 1:30 a.m. when their niece, Cindy Collins—who had been sent by family after the sheriff’s department notified them—came rushing into the unlocked home.

“Cindy came running through the door, screaming, ‘You have to get to the hospital, Bryan has been in an accident.’ It was July 17th so it’s hot, and we never locked doors or anything. She said, ‘You have to go through Gosport, don’t go into Spencer,’ Highland recalled. “We pulled on our clothes and ran out the door. As we pulled up to the intersection at the end of Coon Path, there were firemen directing traffic. They knew who we were and told us to go through Gosport too. They said they weren’t sure what happened but to hurry. We raced all the way to Bloomington Hospital. We thought it was a car accident, and he wrapped himself around a tree in that damn car.”

Upon arriving at Bloomington Hospital, Highland ran inside to handle the paperwork, completely unaware of the violent nature of the incident until a doctor delivered the devastating news.

“When we got to the hospital, Steve Craddick [Owen County Sheriff] pulled in right behind us. Ed said, ‘I’m gonna go talk to Steve,’ and I went on in ’cause I’m the one that carried the insurance,” Highland said. “The doctor walked up, introduced himself, and stated very matter-of-factly, ‘Your son has been shot to death.’ Bryan had been shot through the heart.”

Sifting through small-town rumors

In the long absence of an arrest, local whispers grew increasingly complex. One prominent theory explored by the family involved a Stinesville man who had befriended area teenagers and was later arrested on unrelated drug and sexual misconduct charges. Rumors surfaced alleging that Haltom was on the verge of exposing the man’s illicit activities to authorities, prompting a retaliatory, paid hit.

Other persistent theories involved illicit drugs and even local political interference. While the barrage of gossip was exhausting, Highland viewed the community talk as a double-edged sword.

“In those rumors -- somewhere -- is the truth. It’s just a matter of following each one of them and find where the truth lays,” Highland stated in 2000. “And as a parent, you don’t want your son to be forgotten. At least if the rumors are going on, (the murder is) not being forgotten.”

Shadows on the highway

Archival records reveal that local law enforcement did encounter bizarre developments along the way. Around the time of the 11th anniversary in 2007, Indiana State Police Sgt. Jeff Deckard revealed a strange occurrence where a file folder scrawled with a specific individual’s name was found physically attached to Haltom’s roadside memorial cross north of Spencer.

Furthermore, first responders recalled unusual activity near the scene on the night of the crime. Former Owen County Sheriff’s Department Detective William Snodgrass, one of the first officers to arrive, noted that within 15 minutes of police arrival, a large group of local teenagers had gathered just down the road. Snodgrass noted in 2007, “It just seemed unlikely... maybe someone in that group that night knew more than they were willing to share with police.”

Snodgrass, now a Major with the sheriff’s department, today serves as Commander of the Owen County Jail.

Highland also recalled a localized lead regarding a nearby ditch. A resident living near the site contacted her to report seeing an individual pacing the ditch the morning after the shooting, appearing to look for a discarded object. Though the sheriff’s department searched the area with metal detectors, no weapon was ever recovered, she said.

Waiting on a witness

With the passage of time and the absence of key physical evidence, the path to justice in Haltom’s case has grown increasingly narrow. Fearing early investigative missteps and a lack of a physical weapon have limited the role that modern forensics can play, Highland believes the resolution of the mystery is likely to hinge entirely on human breakthrough rather than laboratory science.

“Oh, I think it is going to take a witness. If the person who knows what happened isn’t dead already—which is what concerns me—it’s not going to be solved through DNA or anything like that,” she said. “There is nothing really left. We never found a gun, and they screwed up the ballistics of it all. So ultimately, it’s going to take somebody finally breaking their silence.”

Left in the dark

Highland remains profoundly frustrated by the lack of communication and perceived stonewalling from investigators tasked with solving the case. When asked if she maintains contact with the law enforcement agencies overseeing the active investigation into her son’s death, Highland revealed a perceived rift between local efforts and the state authorities who now control the file.

“They gave Sam [Hobbs] an incredibly hard time when he was sheriff,” Highland said, noting she believes the perceived pushback severely hindered local progress. “Sam did all kinds of legwork on Bryan’s case and they just, oh, they just gave him such a hard time about it and wouldn’t let him do all kinds of things.”

According to Highland, the jurisdictional handoff has left her completely in the dark regarding any potential breakthroughs or updates.

“[Sheriff] Ryan [White] told me it’s not under Owen County anymore. It hasn’t been for years,” she explained. “But yet the State Police have absolutely no contact with me whatsoever—they haven’t talked to me in at least 20 years.”

Investigation shifted to Cold Case Team

The investigation has officially transitioned to a specialized state unit, according to Sheriff White. White confirmed on July 12 that the case was handed over to the Indiana State Police (ISP) Cold Case Team approximately three to four months ago. While White stressed that the extensive volume of evidence means a quick resolution is unlikely, he emphasized that lines of communication remain open.

“The case belonged to the Indiana State Police three days after the murder occurred, so it’s not been part of the sheriff’s office other than those first three days,” White said. “However, I did meet with the state police detective this past week regarding the case and discussed some key points that I thought needed to be looked at. Bryan‘s case has been turned over to the Cold Case Team with the Indiana State Police. There’s a lot to look at, so I’m sure it will not be quick. They have a lot of information to review before they can act on anything. I can’t discuss specifics regarding the case, but folks with information to share can contact me at my office, and I can share it with the ISP.”

A ‘mama’s boy’ frozen at 18

While the paper files and police logs focus on the logistics of a crime scene, Highland’s mind constantly returns to the vibrant, fun-loving teenager who filled her home with life. Three decades later, she still pictures the boy who loved high-energy summer nights and shared a unique, tender bond with his family.

“He was a mama’s boy, even if he wouldn’t admit it,” Highland smiled, recalling his protective yet affectionate nature.

Stolen on a dark stretch of U.S. 231 three decades ago, Haltom’s missing milestones leave an empty space that Highland frequently fills by imagining his unlived life—the career he would have built, the partner he would have chosen and the family that should have been.

“I wonder all the time,” Highland shared, her voice carrying the quiet weight of three decades of unfulfilled dreams. “You know, about his kids... what they would look like, who he would be today.”

A mother’s final plea

Today, Haltom rests in Riverside Cemetery. Years ago, Highland replaced his original limestone marker with a permanent black marble headstone bearing his etched photograph and the words “Love You More” carved on the back side of the stone.

As she navigates her 69th year, the lack of closure weighs heavily on Highland, compounded by the fear that she or her 86-year-old mother may pass away before justice is served.

“There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of Bryan. Not one day. And there’s not very many days that I don’t think of the case,” Highland shared. “I want justice before I die. And I just don’t know if I’m gonna get it... The next time I go [to Indiana], I hope I’m in that damn courthouse. Yeah, that’s where I wanna be.”

With an independent investigative podcast slated to be released near the 30th anniversary of the tragedy, Highland hopes a human conscience will finally break the decades of silence.

“If it’s a stranger that got away with it, it’s like, how could you just turn and run like that? You just changed our lives forever,” Highland said. “But, if it’s somebody that knew Bryan, knew us… how does he do that to us? To leave us hanging… all these years of not knowing what happened, cause the not knowing what happened is probably… it’s almost harder than losing Bryan.”

Three decades after losing her son, Highland wants the public conversation to shift away from the small-town rumors that clouded the investigation and return to the person she believes her son truly was. As the community marks this milestone anniversary, she hopes readers will look past the gossip and remember a young man defined by his kindness rather than the myths that followed his death.

“I want them to remember him like he really was. He was a truly kind kid,” she said. “I want people not to go off the rumors they heard about drugs and everything, because that wasn’t the kind of person he was. The rumors that went around back then were just horrible, and they simply weren’t who he was.”

Anyone with information regarding the July 17, 1996, shooting death of Bryan Edward Haltom is urged to contact the OCSD at 812-829-5757, or the Indiana State Police Bloomington Post at 812-332-4411. Callers may remain anonymous.

Forty years ago, Bill Breeden thought he was making a statement.

Instead, the Owen County resident sparked a week-and-a-half manhunt, found himself at the center of a federal prosecution and inspired an award-winning documentary after stealing a street sign honoring John Poindexter at the height of the Iran-Contra scandal.

The film will be shown next week at the Historic Tivoli Theatre.

Breeden, who is the only individual to have served jail time in relation to the Iran-Contra scandal, recalled the series of events.

At the time, he was in his mid-30s and lived in a teepee in Brown County. He didn’t have electricity, but he just so happened to stop by someone’s house who did. And it just so happened to be the same night that Ronald Reagan’s National Security Adviser John Poindexter resigned.

Poindexter resigned as a result of the Iran-Contra affair, a secret Reagan administration operation that illegally sold weapons to Iran and diverted the proceeds to Contra rebels in Nicaragua, despite a congressional ban.

Poindexter and Breeden were from the same small southern Indiana town of Odon, and Breeden’s sister dated him at one point.

Breeden watched as Poindexter claimed it was a secret operation he and Oliver North had conducted and that Reagan had nothing to do with it.

“He believed that the government had the right to lie to the people, and he resigned,” Breeden said.

The next morning, Breeden went to see his mom in a nursing home in his hometown and saw a street sign for Poindexter.

When he asked what it was for, he was told that NBC had interviewed residents about Poindexter and the scandal. He said it was on the news that the people of Odon supported Poindexter and were waiting for him to return to dedicate the sign and newly named street after him. The street was four blocks long.

“I wanted people to know that some of us didn’t support it, and so I took this [sign]. We were going to take a picture, and my camera wouldn’t work, and then I decided to steal it, and I left a note on the sign saying, ‘There are some graduates of this high school who do not believe the government has the right to lie to the people, lo how the mighty have fallen,’ and we signed it ‘the Midwest Liberation Front’ as a joke, and that was the thing that kicked it all off,” Breeden said.

That led to a week-and-a-half manhunt for Breeden, as security officials believed Breeden was training guerrillas to kill Poindexter.

After a close encounter in Brown County, Breeden called the deputy sheriff in Odon and offered to turn himself in.

Breeden spent four days in jail and is the only documented person to serve jail time in relation to the Iran-Contra affair.

“I say in a song I wrote about it that I took an inch and they gave me a mile or something like that because had they just ignored it, it would have never had the impact that it did,” Breeden said. “I was really fortunate, just lucky that I happened to see Poindexter resign at another house. I happened to see a sign put up the day before and took it down, so it was just kind of one of those things that landed in your lap, and you had to do something with it.”

It later became a senior prank for students to steal the Poindexter signs like Breeden had done.

The ordeal led to the award-winning 1994 documentary, “The Times of a Sign,” which Breeden will show at the Tivoli at 7 p.m. on July 23. Breeden’s band, The Midwest Liberation Front, named after the experience, will provide live music starting at 6 p.m. The free showing is a fundraising event for the Owen County Democratic Party, of which Breeden is the chairman.

After the inaugural VentFest, Tony Award winner Jay Johnson told organizer Steve Withem that he had spent the entire weekend trying to pinpoint what made the fledgling festival special.

“It finally occurred to me,” Johnson told him on the drive to the airport. “This was the first time in my life I got to hang out with a number of ventriloquists who were all working, performing ventriloquists.”

That feeling has become the festival’s calling card, now in its fifth year.

It’s why Ronn Lucas, who was the first ventriloquist to have a residency in Las Vegas and was dubbed “the world’s best ventriloquist” by The New York Times, wanted to come back.

And it’s why Jim Barber wanted to be part of this year’s lineup.

“For me, the reason to come back a second time was what I’d heard from other ventriloquists — the camaraderie. To be in a room with maybe five or six other people who do exactly what you do, you don’t even have to talk shop,” Lucas said, despite his first experience including a power outage that left him stuck at the airport for five hours. “There’s just a certain communication, a certain feeling of ‘Oh yeah, we’re all in this together,’ and it’s very rare.”

Lucas said that sometimes he thinks of ventriloquists as solo artists, as they serve as their own writers, directors, producers, puppet builders, promoters and costumers, among other roles.

“I think, on a very unconscious level, we all want to think we’re the only one in the universe who can do what we do, and it jars us when another ventriloquist shows up,” he said. “But in this case, there was no competition. It was just all camaraderie. It was great, and I thought, I’ve got to come back to this.”

Barber, who will be performing at VentFest for the first time, echoed the sentiment.

“Rarely do I get a chance to perform on stage with my peers, my fellow ventriloquists. Usually we’re in different places on the same nights performing, and all of these folks on the bill this year are friends of mine that I’ve known for years and years,” he said.

But the feeling of community is only part of the event’s success. The other crucial part is Withem himself.

“I think the reason I’m enjoying it so much is actually Steve Withem. He’s a very passionate person,” Lucas said, who had VentFest recommended to him by one of his mentees, Nikolas Bushi. “The group that he keeps calling together is just really good, solid family entertainment.”

This year’s festival may feature the strongest lineup in its history, with Johnson, Lucas, Barber, Willie Tyler, and other internationally recognized performers joining veteran favorites and rising stars.

“I’ve got ventriloquist friends of mine who are coming from around the globe—Australia, Canada, Europe, São Paulo, Brazil—to come see this lineup because they know how historic and extraordinary it is,” he said.

He said he hopes local residents will come check out the festival.

“The art form is honestly so unique. It’s so hard to do, and it’s rare to find good performers. That’s just not the sort of thing people think of. It’s not the sort of thing they think to do. They think of going out and listening to music. They think of going out and watching a movie. They even think of going out to a comedy club, but not a ventriloquist show, which is comedy,” Withem said. “But it’s a very unique form of comedy, and when it’s done well, I think it’s one of the most entertaining art forms there can be. But it’s so hard to do and so rare to see it done well.”

Lucas also talked about the perceptions associated with ventriloquism.

“If you just mention I’m a ventriloquist, I’m a magician, I’m a juggler, there was an automatic negative connotation, or at least there was a direction to that,” he said, adding that in the past folks had to know they were good first.

But Lucas said there is more curiosity as a result of the success of folks like Jeff Dunham and other ventriloquists.

“So there’s been a serious turnaround, at least for ventriloquism, and definitely for magic, where everyone is kind of expecting and hoping that you’re going to be a good performer, so that’s what’s happened in my lifetime, and Jeff has been a big part of that,” he said.

The prevalence of the art form in recent times is also something that Barber touched on.

“Ventriloquism, I think, is stronger than it’s ever been, thanks to some of our younger, upcoming artists like Darci Lynne [Farmer] and even Tansy [Lou] Davis, who’s going to be on our show this year,” he said.

That being said, Lucas stressed the importance of constantly challenging the art form.

In fact, his business card last year said: “Ventriloquism is a dying art, and I’m helping to kill it.”

He said he was asked if he really felt that way.

“I said, ‘Well, as long as we keep innovating and keep changing and keep adding things, then it’s going to be okay.’ My version of killing it was: not really contributing anything new to the art form,” he said. “But I’ve always done that. What makes me different is that I’ve always come up with different ways of trying to perform, different ways of approaching the art form.”

Barber challenges the art form with a bit of a role reversal with his main character, Seville.

“My main character, that I’m known for, is called the Barber and Seville, and Seville is actually a six-foot-tall ventriloquist holding a little dummy, but my head is on the dummy, the little body, so it looks like a switch when we walk out on stage,” he said.

The full lineup for the July 24 to 26 festival and tickets for each show can be found at ventfest.org. Performances will kick off with a show at 7 p.m. Friday evening, continue with both a 2 p.m. matinee and a 7 p.m. evening show on Saturday and conclude with a 2 p.m. matinee on Sunday.

“You’re going to come and see a bunch of professionals that were handpicked by Steve Withem, and he is very much a ventriloquist aficionado. He picks really, really good people, and people that are different from each other. So you’re going to see a variety show, which is going to basically pivot around the art form of ventriloquism,” Lucas said.

Barber said he thinks first-time attendees will walk away excited for next year’s festival as they see several different takes on the art form.

“Comedy can go in a lot of different directions, and so can ventriloquism,” Lucas said. “I think the power of ventriloquism is you create a character that is once removed from reality, which means that everything he or she says, meaning the puppet, can bump people, but never really leaves a bruise.”