There were about 20 other tourists on the boat, mostly couples in their 30s and 40s.

A few families with older children.

The crew welcomed everyone aboard, offering drinks from a cooler filled with beer, wine, sodas, and water.

They motored away from the dock and then raised the sails, cutting the engine so the only sound was the wind and the water and the conversations of passengers taking in the beauty of the Costa Rican coastline from the water.

Rachel and Derek sat at the front of the boat holding hands while the crew pointed out landmarks along the shore and explained facts about local wildlife and ecology.

Within 20 minutes of leaving the dock, they saw their first dolphins.

A pod of about eight animals playing in the waves, jumping and spinning and seeming to race alongside the boat.

Everyone on the catamaran rushed to that side, phones and cameras out, excited voices overlapping as people tried to capture the moment.

The sun began setting around 6:15 pm, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and purple that Rachel had only seen in heavily edited photos and thought couldn’t possibly be real.

But here it was, this impossible sunset reflected in the ocean so that the boat seemed to be sailing through colored light.

The crew served appetizers, small bites of local cheese and fruit and empanadas, while passengers stood on the deck taking photos and watching the sun slowly sink toward the horizon.

Rachel took dozens of photos, some of just the sunset, some of Derek silhouetted against the colorful sky, some selfies of both of them smiling with the sunset behind them.

Derek appeared in several of them, looking relaxed and happy.

his arm around Rachel’s shoulders, his face turned toward her rather than the camera in some shots, clearly more interested in her reaction to the sunset than the sunset itself.

Later, investigators would study these photos, looking for anything unusual, any sign of what was to come, but they found nothing.

Derek looked like every other husband on every other honeymoon, happy to be there, in love with his wife.

They returned to the marina around 7:30 pm As the last light faded from the sky, Derek drove them back to the hotel and they discussed dinner options.

They were both tired from the day and still full from the appetizers on the cruise.

So, they decided to skip a formal dinner and just get light snacks from the hotel bar.

They sat at a small table on the terrace overlooking the ocean, ordering nachos and more drinks.

talking about how perfect the day had been.

Derek suggested they just relax at the hotel the next day.

Maybe do the ziplining tour the following day instead.

Give themselves time to adjust to vacation mode without rushing from one activity to another.

Rachel agreed, looking forward to a lazy day of reading and swimming and napping.

But then Derek mentioned a restaurant he had read about for the following evening, a local place away from the tourist area that supposedly had the best ceviche in Costa Rica.

He showed Rachel the reviews on his phone, reading some of them out loud, explaining that the restaurant was familyrun and had been in the same location for 30 years.

He said it would be an adventure to eat somewhere that locals went rather than just sticking to tourist restaurants in the resort area.

Rachel, who loved trying new foods and had enjoyed their lunch at the casual restaurant in town, thought it sounded perfect.

Derek said he would make a reservation for 7:00 pm the following evening, April 24th, the meal that would be Rachel’s last.

The next morning, April 24th, they slept even later, not waking up until almost 11:00 am They had room service breakfast again, this time eating inside because the morning sun was too hot on the balcony.

They spent the afternoon exactly as planned, doing nothing in particular, just being together.

Rachel posted more photos on Facebook and Instagram, showing her followers the beautiful resort, the gorgeous beach, the tropical drinks.

Her last Instagram post was a photo of ceviche and plantains with the caption, “When in Costa Rica,” followed by several food emojis.

It was posted at 8:47 pm on April 24th.

By the time anyone saw it the next morning, Rachel was already dead.

The evening of April 24th began exactly as planned.

Derek and Rachel got ready for dinner around 6:00 pm Both showering and changing into casual but nice clothes.

Rachel wore a blue sundress and sandals, simple gold earrings that Michael had given her for an anniversary years ago, and the emerald ring from her grandmother on her right hand.

She packed a small purse with her phone, some cash, her ID, and lip gloss.

They left the hotel around 6:30 pm in their rental car with Derek driving and Rachel navigating using Google Maps on her phone.

The restaurant, El Pacificico, was about 20 minutes away in a more residential area, not far from the marina where they had started the catamaran cruise.

They arrived at the restaurant around 6:50 pm and immediately understood why locals loved it.

El Pacificico was small and casual with plastic chairs and handwritten menus, but it was packed with Costa Rican families and couples, always a good sign.

The owner, a woman in her 50s named Maria, greeted them warmly in Spanish and gestured to an open table near the back.

Derek and Rachel studied the menu, pointing at pictures since the descriptions were in Spanish.

And Derek ordered for both of them using the few Spanish phrases he knew.

Ceviche, plantains, rice, and beans, cold beer.

The food arrived quickly and was delicious, exactly the kind of authentic local meal they had been hoping for.

They talked and laughed and took photos of their food and the casual atmosphere.

Rachel posted the last photo to Instagram at 8:47 pm After dinner around 9:00 pm, Derek suggested they walk around the neighborhood for a bit before calling a taxi back to the hotel.

Rachel agreed, assuming they would just stroll for a few minutes to help digest the large meal and then head back to the resort.

But Derek led them away from the restaurant, down streets that became progressively quieter and darker, away from the main roads, into residential areas where houses sat behind chainlink fences and street lights were infrequent.

Rachel started to feel uncomfortable, that sense of unease that women learned to trust, but often talk themselves out of because they don’t want to seem paranoid or rude.

She asked Derek where they were going.

He said there was a small park nearby that supposedly had a beautiful view of the ocean at night, that he had read about it online and wanted to check it out.

Rachel trusted him.

Why wouldn’t she? This was her husband, the man who had spent 5 months proving himself to be kind and reliable and safe, who had integrated himself into her life and Emma’s life so carefully and thoughtfully, who had done everything right.

They turned down a street that was barely lit, lined with small houses behind chainlink fences.

Rachel could hear dogs barking in the distance.

She was about to suggest they head back when Derek stopped walking and turned to face her.

His expression had changed in a way that Rachel’s brain initially couldn’t process.

The warmth was gone from his eyes.

The gentle smile that had been so constant over the past 5 months was gone.

He looked at her the way someone might look at a problem they needed to solve.

Clinical and detached, completely devoid of the affection he had shown her just moments ago in the restaurant.

Rachel felt fear spike through her chest for the first time since meeting him.

A primal warning system that screamed danger even though her conscious mind was still trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Derek,” she said, her voice shaking.

Let’s go back to the restaurant.

I don’t feel comfortable here.

But Derek didn’t move.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe filled with clear liquid, holding it in his right hand like something completely normal, like a pen or a phone.

Rachel’s brain tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

Was Derek diabetic? Had he mentioned that and she forgot? Was this insulin? But the look on his face told her this wasn’t medicine for himself.

This was something meant for her.

She took a step backward, her body acting on instinct before her mind fully caught up.

Derek, what is that? What are you doing? Derek didn’t answer with words.

He moved faster than Rachel would have thought possible, closing the distance between them in one quick step, grabbing her arm with his left hand while his right hand brought the syringe toward her neck.

Rachel tried to scream, but Dererick’s hand clamped over her mouth before more than a small gasp escaped.

She tried to fight, tried to claw at his face with her free hand, but he twisted her around and pinned her against a concrete wall, using his body weight to keep her immobile.

She felt the sharp prick of the needle entering her neck.

Felt the cold sensation of liquid being injected into her body.

felt her limbs becoming heavy and uncoordinated within seconds.

She tried to stay conscious, tried to fight the darkness closing in around her vision, but whatever drug Derek had injected her with was powerful and fast acting.

The last thing Rachel Morrison remembered before losing consciousness was Derek’s face inches from hers.

Close enough that she could see herself reflected in his eyes.

His expression still completely detached and business-like.

He whispered something she would never forget.

Words that would haunt the nightmares of everyone who later learned about this moment.

I’m sorry, but this is just business.

Nothing personal.

Then everything went black.

When Rachel didn’t return calls or texts from Emma and Jennifer over the next 2 days, they assumed she was just enjoying her honeymoon and had limited phone service in some remote area of Costa Rica where they might have gone for a tour or adventure.

Rachel had mentioned potentially doing some off the grid exploring, maybe visiting a remote beach or taking a jungle trek, so her sister and daughter weren’t immediately concerned when messages went unanswered.

Jennifer sent several texts.

Hope you’re having amazing time.

And Emma wants to know if you’ve seen any sloths yet.

And call when you get a chance.

No rush.

Emma sent messages, too.

Mom, I got an A on my science project.

And Aunt Jennifer is letting us stay up late watching movies and miss you but having fun.

None of the messages were delivered.

Rachel’s phone had been turned off or destroyed shortly after she lost consciousness, ensuring that it couldn’t be tracked or used to establish a timeline of events.

For 2 days, April 25th and 26th, Rachel Morrison was missing while her family assumed she was just out of touch, enjoying her honeymoon, living her best life with her new husband.

Derek during this time was busy with the work of murder, following a process he had refined over 15 years and seven previous victims, a systematic approach to making people disappear that had worked flawlessly every time before.

When Derek called Jennifer on April 27th at 6:30 am Portland time, she was still asleep, her phone buzzing on the nightstand next to her bed.

She saw Derek’s name on the screen and felt a brief moment of confusion.

Why would Derek be calling her instead of Rachel before a spike of fear shot through her? Something was wrong? She answered the phone with her heart already racing.

Derek, is everything okay? Is Rachel okay? What followed was a performance that Derek had practiced and perfected over many years.

His voice was thick with emotion, breaking in places, heavy with what sounded like genuine grief.

“Jennifer, I’m so sorry.

There’s been an accident.

A terrible accident.

” He paused and Jennifer heard what sounded like a sobb.

Rachel, she we went hiking yesterday in Manuel Antonio National Park.

She was taking photos near an edge and she slipped.

I tried to grab her, but I couldn’t reach her in time.

She fell.

Jennifer.

She fell so far.

The park rangers found her body at the bottom of the ravine.

They said she died on impact.

She didn’t suffer.

Jennifer’s world collapsed in that moment.

The words didn’t make sense.

Rachel was dead.

Rachel had fallen.

Rachel was supposed to be on her honeymoon, supposed to be happy, supposed to be safe.

This couldn’t be happening.

Not again.

Not after Michael.

Not after Rachel had finally found happiness again.

Jennifer heard herself making sounds.

Not words exactly, just sounds of grief and shock and disbelief.

Derek continued talking, his voice breaking at intervals that sounded completely genuine.

I don’t know what to do.

I can’t believe she’s gone.

One minute we were looking at the view and the next minute she was gone.

I’ve been at the hospital dealing with Costa Rican authorities, trying to arrange everything.

I need your help telling Emma.

I can’t bear to break that little girl’s heart.

I don’t know how to tell her that her mother is never coming home.

Jennifer was too shocked to ask many questions, too focused on how to tell Emma that her mother, the only parent she had left, was dead.

She was too overwhelmed by grief to notice the inconsistencies in Derek’s story.

The lack of specific details about exactly where in the park this happened.

The strange calmness in his voice once he got past the initial emotional delivery.

The way he had already talked to hospital staff and authorities and made arrangements without contacting family first.

She asked through her tears when Rachel’s body would be returned to Portland for burial.

Derek said that Costa Rican law required local cremation in cases of accidental death to prevent disease, especially given the condition of the body after the fall from such a height.

He said Rachel’s ashes would be returned within a week that he would handle all the paperwork and arrangements that Jennifer just needed to focus on Emma and break the news as gently as possible.

Jennifer, who knew nothing about Costa Rican law or international death procedures, accepted this as true.

Why wouldn’t she? Derek was Rachel’s husband.

He was there dealing with the aftermath of tragedy.

He had no reason to lie about any of this.

She hung up the phone and sat on the edge of her bed trying to figure out how to tell her 12-year-old niece that the second parent was dead, that Emma would now be an orphan, that the universe was cruel enough to take both of the girls’ parents before she even finished middle school.

Derek returned to Portland on April 28th, 6 days after he and Rachel had left for their honeymoon.

He brought with him a small wooden urn that he said contained Rachel’s ashes, purchased from a funeral home in Costa Rica.

He brought a death certificate written in Spanish with official looking stamps and signatures printed on thick paper that seemed legitimate.

He seemed genuinely devastated by grief, moving slowly like someone in shock, his eyes red and swollen like he had been crying for days.

He wore dark clothes and spoke in a quiet voice.

He hugged Emma when he saw her, holding the girl while she sobbed, telling her how sorry he was, how much her mother had loved her, how they would get through this together.

He attended the memorial service that Rachel’s friends and colleagues from Lincoln Elementary organized for the following week, standing quietly in the back of the church during the ceremony, accepting condolences with humble gratitude.

never drawing attention to himself, just being present in his grief.

Margaret Torres, Rachel’s fellow teacher and close friend, gave a eulogy describing Rachel as the kind of teacher and friend and mother who made everyone around her better, who found joy in small moments, who loved deeply and completely.

Rachel’s principal talked about her dedication to students and her talent for making learning fun.

Jennifer read a letter Emma had written to her mother.

A heartbreaking collection of memories and things Emma wished she could still tell her mom.

Derek sat in the back pew with tears running down his face.

And everyone who saw him assumed he was a man destroyed by the sudden loss of the woman he loved.

In the days following the memorial service, Derek helped Jennifer sort through Rachel’s belongings in the apartment, packing up clothes to donate to charity, organizing documents and photos, making decisions about what Emma might want to keep and what could be discarded.

He was helpful and practical, approaching the task with the same quiet efficiency he had shown in integrating himself into Rachel’s life.

He boxed up Rachel’s teaching materials to be returned to the school.

He organized her books into groups, some for Emma, some to donate to the library, some to give to friends who might want them.

He carefully packed her jewelry into a wooden box, setting it aside to give to Emma when she was older.

It was Emma who first noticed something wrong, who saw what the adults around her had missed because they were too consumed by grief to notice inconsistencies.

She was in Derek’s bedroom, which used to be her mother’s bedroom, looking for a photo album she remembered her mother keeping in the closet.

The photo album contained pictures from Emma’s childhood, memories Emma desperately wanted to see, proof that her mother had existed and loved her, and documented their life together.

She found the album on a shelf in the closet.

But she also found something else that made her stomach drop with a feeling she couldn’t quite name.

Sitting on the same shelf, clearly visible, was a small wooden jewelry box that definitely belonged to her mother.

Emma recognized it immediately because her mother had shown it to her many times, explaining that it had belonged to Emma’s greatg grandmother and would one day belong to Emma.

Emma opened the jewelry box with shaking hands.

Inside was her grandmother’s emerald ring, the one that had been passed down through generations, the one her mother wore on special occasions.

Inside was her mother’s wedding band from her marriage to Michael, Emma’s father.

The ring Rachel had stopped wearing when she married Derek, but kept in this box.

Inside were a pair of diamond earrings that Michael had given Rachel for their 15th anniversary.

Earrings Emma had helped pick out even though she was only 5 years old at the time.

Inside were several other pieces.

A pearl necklace, a gold bracelet, a silver brooch shaped like a butterfly.

Emma knew her mother had taken most of her jewelry with her to Costa Rica.

She remembered specifically seeing her mother pack the emerald ring because Rachel had mentioned wanting to wear it to a nice dinner.

So, why was all her jewelry here in Derek’s bedroom in this apartment in Portland when it should have been in Costa Rica? Either lost in the fall that killed her mother or returned with her ashes.

Emma stood in the closet holding the jewelry box, her mind trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Maybe her mom had changed her mind at the last minute and decided not to bring the jewelry after all.

Maybe she had been worried about it getting lost or stolen from the hotel room.

Maybe this made perfect sense and Emma was just looking for problems because she was angry at the universe for taking her mother.

But something felt wrong in a way Emma couldn’t articulate.

A feeling in her gut that told her this wasn’t right.

She brought the jewelry box to Jennifer, interrupting her aunt who was in the kitchen preparing lunch.

Aunt Jennifer, Emma said, her voice small and uncertain.

Look what I found in Derek’s closet.

Jennifer looked at the jewelry box, recognized it immediately as Rachel’s, remembered seeing it on Rachel’s dresser for years.

She opened it and saw all the pieces Emma had already inventoried, all the jewelry Rachel should have had with her in Costa Rica.

Jennifer felt something cold and uncomfortable settle in her stomach.

a feeling that made her pause in the middle of making sandwiches.

A sensation she had learned over years of parenting to never ignore.

She called Derek, who was at his apartment handling his own arrangements, packing up his life to prepare for whatever came next.

“Derek,” Jennifer said, trying to keep her voice neutral and friendly.

“I have a question about Rachel’s jewelry.

Emma found her jewelry box in your closet and all her important pieces are in it.

I thought Rachel took most of her jewelry to Costa Rica.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

So brief that Jennifer might have imagined it before Derek responded smoothly and confidently.

Oh, that he said, his voice carrying a tone of slight amusement like Jennifer was worrying about nothing.

Rachel actually decided not to bring most of her jewelry at the last minute.

She was worried about losing it or having it stolen from the hotel room.

You know how she was about those pieces, especially her grandmother’s ring.

She didn’t want to risk anything happening to them.

The explanation made sense.

Rachel had been careful with her jewelry, especially the pieces with sentimental value.

She had been known to change her mind about what to bring on trips.

overthinking and repacking multiple times.

Jennifer wanted to believe Derek’s explanation, wanted everything to make sense, wanted Rachel’s death to be just a horrible accident and nothing more sinister.

But then, Jennifer noticed something when Derek came over later that afternoon to drop off more of Rachel’s belongings that he had finished sorting.

He was wearing a chain around his neck that Jennifer had never seen before.

A thin gold chain that caught the light when he moved.

It was visible above the collar of his dark shirt, resting against his throat.

Jennifer asked casually to see it, trying to keep her tone light and curious rather than suspicious.

Derek hesitated for just a fraction of a second, a pause so brief that Jennifer might not have noticed if she hadn’t been paying close attention.

Then he pulled the chain out from under his shirt.

Hanging from it was a ring.

Not just any ring.

Rachel’s grandmother’s emerald ring.

The one that should have been in the jewelry box in the closet.

The one Emma had found less than 4 hours ago.

Jennifer stared at the ring, her mind refusing to process what she was seeing.

“Derek,” she said slowly.

“Why are you wearing Rachel’s emerald ring? the ring that’s supposed to be in the jewelry box.

Derek’s explanation came quickly, practiced, and smooth.

“I found this ring in my suitcase after returning from Costa Rica,” he said, tucking the chain back under his shirt.

Rachel must have packed it at the last minute without telling me.

“I know she decided not to bring most of her jewelry, but I guess she changed her mind about this one piece.

I’ve been wearing it to feel close to her.

Grief makes you do strange things.

I hope it’s not inappropriate.

I just miss her so much.

But Jennifer noticed something else when Derek moved to tuck the chain away.

Something she saw only because she was now looking for inconsistencies instead of accepting everything at face value.

Derek was wearing another ring on his pinky finger, a plain gold band that looked familiar in a way that made Jennifer’s heart start pounding.

She asked to see his hand, reaching out before Derek could refuse or hide it.

The ring on his pinky finger was engraved on the inside with initials and a date.

MLM plus RLM 6 to 15 2002.

Michael Lewis Morrison and Rachel Lynn Morrison.

Their wedding date.

It was Rachel’s wedding band from her marriage to Michael, Emma’s father.

Derek was wearing Rachel’s dead husband’s wedding ring on his pinky finger like it was his own.

Jennifer pulled her hand back like she had been burned.

“Why?” she asked, her voice shaking now.

“Why would you wear Rachel’s wedding ring from Michael? Why would you wear a ring from her first marriage?” Derek’s friendly expression faltered for the first time since Jennifer had known him.

He became slightly defensive, his jaw tightening, his eyes hardening.

He said grief made people do strange things, that he just wanted to feel connected to Rachel in any way possible, that he was wearing jewelry that reminded him of her because it brought him comfort in a dark time.

He asked why Jennifer was questioning him when they should be supporting each other through this tragedy when they both loved Rachel and both missed her and should be united in grief rather than interrogating each other.

But Jennifer couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

She asked to see Rachel’s death certificate.

Derek said it was with his lawyer being processed with other documents.

She asked for contact information for the Costa Rican authorities who had handled Rachel’s case.

Derek said he had lost the paperwork in his grief, but would find it and send it to her.

She asked if he had any photos from the honeymoon after the first 2 days, any documentation of where they had gone or what they had done.

Derek said his phone had been damaged during the hiking accident when he tried to climb down to reach Rachel and he had lost all the photos he had taken.

Every answer raised more questions.

Every explanation felt slightly off.

Reasonable enough to be plausible, but strange enough to create doubt.

Jennifer made a decision that night after Derek left.

She would verify the story herself.

She contacted the American Embassy in Costa Rica through their website and asked for information about Rachel Morrison’s death, providing Rachel’s full name, birth date, and approximate date of death.

The embassy responded within 2 days.

They had no record of an American citizen named Rachel Morrison dying in Costa Rica in April 2019.

They had no record of any American citizen dying in Manuel Antonio National Park during that time period.

They suggested Jennifer contact local police in Manuel Antonio for more information providing contact details.

Jennifer contacted the Manuel Antonio Police Department through an email address provided by the embassy using Google Translate to write her message in Spanish.

She asked about hiking accidents in the national park, providing Rachel’s name and the approximate date Derek had given for her death.

The police responded in English, saying they had no record of any tourist death in the national park in April 2019, that all accidents resulting in death or serious injury were thoroughly documented and investigated, that they would certainly have records if such an incident had occurred.

Jennifer’s world shifted in that moment, the ground becoming unstable beneath her feet.

If Rachel hadn’t died in a hiking accident in Manuel Antonio National Park, then where had she died? How had she died? And why would Derek lie about it? Jennifer sat at her kitchen table with these questions circling in her mind, each one more terrifying than the last.

She thought about Derek wearing Rachel’s jewelry, about his smooth explanations that made sense individually, but created a disturbing pattern when viewed together, about how quickly he had returned from Costa Rica with ashes and a death certificate, about how he had handled everything without consulting Rachel’s family or giving them a chance to be involved in the process.

Jennifer picked up her phone and called the Portland Police Department.

She asked to speak to someone about a possible murder.

She was transferred to Detective Lisa Chen in the homicide division.

Detective Chen listened while Jennifer explained everything.

Rachel’s honeymoon in Costa Rica.

Derek’s call reporting her death.

The jewelry that should have been in Costa Rica but was in Portland.

Derek wearing Rachel’s rings.

the lack of any record of Rachel’s death with either the American embassy or Costa Rican authorities.

Detective Chen asked careful questions, took detailed notes, and told Jennifer she had done the right thing by calling.

She said the police would investigate, that Jennifer should not confront Derek with her suspicions, that she should act normally while they looked into the situation.

The Portland police contacted the FBI, who had jurisdiction over crimes involving American citizens abroad.

The FBI contacted Interpol, who coordinated with Costa Rican authorities.

Within 72 hours, an international investigation was underway.

What they discovered would lead to one of the most extensive serial killer investigations in recent history.

Connecting cases across multiple states and spanning 15 years of systematic murder for profit, Costa Rican police, working with guidance from FBI agents, began reviewing security camera footage from the area where Derek said he and Rachel had stayed.

They found footage from a camera at a gas station showing Derek Morrison checking into Vista Del Pacificico Resort on April 22nd with a woman matching Rachel’s description.

They found footage from April 23rd showing Derek and Rachel leaving the resort together in the late evening.

But they found no footage of either of them returning that night.

Instead, they found footage from April 24th showing Derek returning to the resort alone in the early morning hours.

Around 400 am carrying what appeared to be a large duffel bag, he checked out of the resort on April 25th, 3 days early, declining housekeeping service for the days he had been there.

Security footage from the restaurant where Derek and Rachel had dinner on the night of April 24th showed them arriving around 700 pm, eating dinner, and leaving around 900 pm, walking away from the restaurant toward a residential area.

A private security camera on a nearby house captured footage that would prove crucial to the investigation.

At 9:37 pm on April 24th, the camera showed Derek Morrison carrying an unconscious woman positively identified as Rachel from her distinctive blue sundress and physical characteristics to a vehicle parked on the street.

The vehicle was a white Toyota RAV 4, matching the rental car Derek had obtained at the airport.

Derek placed Rachel in the back seat of the vehicle, covering her with what appeared to be a blanket, and drove away.

Costa Rican police, with assistance from FBI forensic teams, tracked the vehicle’s movements using traffic cameras and gas station footage.

The RAV 4 drove approximately 2 hours from Manuel Antonio to a remote area in the mountains far from tourist destinations or populated areas.

Police searched the area and found evidence of recent burial and exumation at a location matching soil samples found in the vehicle when it was later recovered from the rental company.

DNA testing on soil samples and trace evidence confirmed that Rachel Morrison had been buried in a shallow grave in this remote location while still alive but unconscious from the seditive Derek had injected her with.

She had suffocated to death underground, unable to wake or call for help, her body shutting down as carbon dioxide levels in the makeshift grave exceeded what a human can survive.

The forensic evidence suggested that Derek had returned to the site approximately 24 hours later on the evening of April 25th to exume Rachel’s body.

He had then transported the remains to an even more remote location where he used a portable cremation device, the kind that can be purchased online for thousands of dollars and is marketed for agricultural use or for people who want to cremate pets.

He cremated Rachel’s body over the course of several hours, reducing her remains to ash and bone fragments that he then placed in a wooden urn purchased from a funeral supply website.

He created a fake death certificate using templates available online, adding official looking stamps he had custom made from a printing company.

He returned to Portland with Rachel’s ashes and the fake death certificate, presenting himself as a grieving widowerower while actually being Rachel’s murderer.

But this was only the beginning of what investigators would learn about Derek Morrison, whose real name they soon discovered was Alan Jeffrey Parker, age 52, born in Oakland, California, and wanted in connection with at least six other suspicious deaths of women across multiple states dating back 15 years.

When FBI agents executed a search warrant on Derek Morrison’s apartment in Portland on May 3rd, 2019, they found evidence that would break the case wide open and reveal the true scope of Alan Parker’s crimes in a storage unit rented under one of several fake names he used.

Agents found six additional wooden urns, each containing cremated human remains.

They found six driver’s licenses belonging to six different women, all between ages 30 and 45, all from different states.

They found jewelry boxes containing hundreds of pieces of valuable jewelry, rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, each piece cataloged in a notebook with the name of the woman it had belonged to, and an estimated value.

They found life insurance policies, bank account information, property deeds, all in the names of different women.

They found notebooks containing detailed information about each woman, their daily routines, their financial assets, their family situations, their vulnerabilities, their psychological profiles.

One notebook in particular would prove crucial to understanding Alan Parker’s systematic approach to murder.

The notebook contained what could only be described as a business plan for serial killing.

With each victim treated as a project with costs, benefits, and return on investment, Parker had rated each woman on various factors: ease of manipulation, asset value, family situation, risk of detection.

He had documented his methods, how to establish false identities, how to integrate into communities, how to build trust over months, how to identify vulnerable women, how to create situations where they could be killed without witnesses, how to fake death certificates, how to cremate bodies and present ashes as legitimate remains.

The notebook contained an entry about Rachel Morrison dated January 15th, 2019, 3 months before her death.

Written in clinical detached language that made FBI agents physically sick to read.

Subject RM has proven to be one of the easier acquisitions, widowed stus 3 years post loss created optimal vulnerability window.

Active presence of dependent daughter provides additional emotional leverage and urgency for subject to demonstrate life has returned to normal functioning.

Subject demonstrates strong community ties which aid in legitimacy establishment but creates minimal risk due to limited close family relationships.

Asset value approximately $180,000.

Liquid savings and checking accounts plus property equity estimated $90,000 plus jewelry collection estimated $20,000.

Life insurance policy established postmarriage valued at $500,000 with subject sister as contingent beneficiary can be modified post marriage.

Total estimated value $790,000 for approximately five months investment of time and minimal financial outlay.

Excellent return on investment compared to previous acquisitions.

Subject has shown complete trust.

No suspicion of true identity or intent.

Integration into subject’s community has been successful.

Church attendance, volunteer work, and youth coaching provides substantial legitimacy cover.

Subjects daughter accepts presence.

Sister approves relationship.

Colleagues and neighbors view relationship positively.

No concerning questions or background investigations detected.

Execution planned for Costa Rica trip.

Location selected for ease of body disposal and low probability of detailed investigation.

Subject is trusting personality type and will not suspect danger until too late.

Cremation will be straightforward as subject has no close family aside from sister who has proven to not be naturally suspicious.

Anticipate clean exit from Portland with assets liquidated and relocation to Seattle area by June 2019 to begin identification of next subject.

FBI agents reading this entry realized they were dealing with a serial killer who approached murder not as an emotional crime, but as a business venture, complete with market research, costbenefit analysis, and strategic planning.

Alan Parker had been killing women for money for at least 15 years, possibly longer.

Systematically selecting victims based on their asset values and vulnerability factors.

building elaborate false identities to gain their trust, marrying them to gain legal access to their finances, taking them to remote locations to murder them, and then returning to collect life insurance payouts and liquidate their assets before moving to a new city and starting the process over again.

The investigation expanded rapidly as FBI teams in multiple states began connecting cold cases and suspicious deaths to Alan Parker.

Using the information in his notebooks, agents were able to identify at least six previous victims, each with a similar pattern.

Vulnerable women, recent widow or divorce, assets in the range of $500,000 to $1.

5 million, isolated from extended family, killed during trips to remote locations, bodies cremated, deaths attributed to accidents.

The first identified victim was Patricia Romano, age 34, who died in Montana in 2004 while on her honeymoon with a man who called himself James Romano.

Patricia had been a divorced mother of two boys, working as a dental hygienist in Billings.

She had met James at a church singles group where he presented himself as a recently divorced insurance salesman rebuilding his life.

Patricia’s sister, Carol, had told police in 2004 that Patricia fell from a cliff while hiking in Glacia National Park that James had returned devastated with her ashes and a death certificate from Montana authorities.

But when FBI agents reviewed the case in 2019, they found that no death certificate had ever been filed with Montana Vital records.

That the document James Romano provided to Carol was a forgery.

That there was no record of Patricia’s death with park rangers or local police.

Patricia’s cremated remains were among the six urns found in Alan Parker’s storage unit.

DNA testing confirmed the ashes were Patricia Romanos.

Alan Parker’s notebook contained an entry about Patricia, describing her as his first successful application of the complete method he had been developing, noting that he had learned from mistakes in earlier attempts that had been too risky or hadn’t yielded sufficient financial return.

He estimated that he had gained approximately $400,000 from Patricia’s life insurance policy, savings, and jewelry, a sum that gave him the capital to invest more heavily in creating false identities for future victims.

The second victim was Michelle Chen, age 41, who died on a camping trip in Utah in 2006.

Michelle had been a widow living in Salt Lake City, working as a nurse practitioner, raising a teenage daughter alone.

She had met a man who called himself David Chen at a grief support group where he claimed to be processing the loss of his wife to breast cancer.

They dated for 8 months before marrying in a small ceremony.

Less than two weeks after the wedding, David suggested a camping trip to a remote area of southeastern Utah.

Michelle never returned.

David reported that she had been bitten by a rattlesnake while hiking, that she had died before they could reach medical help, that he had her body cremated in accordance with her wishes.

Michelle’s ashes were among those found in Parker’s storage unit.

His notebook described her as a high value target with excellent assets and minimal family complications.

The third victim was Karen Wells, aged 38, who died on a beach vacation in Mexico in 2009.

Karen had been divorced working as a real estate agent in Phoenix, Arizona.

She met a man who called himself Robert Wells at a professional networking event.

He claimed to work in mortgage lending.

They dated for 10 months before marrying.

On their honeymoon in Puerto Varta, Karen allegedly drowned while swimming.

Robert returned to Phoenix with her ashes, explaining that Mexican authorities required immediate cremation in cases of drowning deaths.

Karen’s ashes were in Parker’s collection.

His notebook noted that the Mexico location had worked well due to less rigorous death investigation protocols compared to the United States.

The fourth victim was Sandra Price, age 36, who died on a cruise in the Caribbean in 2011.

Sandra had been a widow living in Atlanta, Georgia, working as a financial analyst.

She met a man who called himself Thomas Price through an online dating site designed for professionals.

They dated for 7 months before marrying.

During their honeymoon cruise, Sandra allegedly fell overboard during rough seas at night.

The cruise line conducted a search but never recovered her body.

M.

Thomas Price told Sandra’s family that the cruise line had provided documentation of her death and that he was handling the legal and financial aftermath.

But Sandra Price’s ashes were in Alan Parker’s storage unit, meaning she had never actually fallen overboard.

She had been killed somewhere on land, her body cremated, and the cruise story fabricated to explain her disappearance.

Parker’s notebook described the cruise scenario as high risk but successful, noting that he would not use that method again due to too many potential witnesses and complications.

The fifth victim was Jennifer Boyd, age 43, who died on a wine country tour in California in 2014.

Jennifer had been divorced working as a marketing director in San Francisco.

She met a man who called himself Christopher Boyd at a charity fundraiser for cancer research.

He claimed to work in pharmaceutical sales.

They dated for 9 months before marrying.

During a weekend trip to Napa Valley, Jennifer allegedly died from a severe allergic reaction to something she ate at a restaurant.

Christopher returned to San Francisco with her ashes, explaining that Napa County health regulations required immediate cremation in cases of severe anaphilaxis to prevent disease transmission.

Jennifer’s ashes were among those found by FBI agents.

Parker’s notebook described her as his highest value victim at that point, with assets totaling approximately $1.

2 million, including her home in San Francisco, retirement accounts, and a trust fund from her parents.

The sixth victim was Lisa Martinez, age 39, who died on a mountain retreat in Colorado in 2016.

Lisa had been a widow living in Denver, working as a corporate attorney.

She met a man who called himself Steven Martinez at a continuing legal education conference.

He claimed to be an attorney specializing in environmental law.

They dated for 8 months before marrying during a weekend at a remote mountain cabin that Steven had rented.

Lisa allegedly died from carbon monoxide poisoning due to a faulty heater.

Steven returned to Denver with her ashes, explaining that Colorado law required immediate cremation in cases of toxic exposure deaths.

Lisa’s ashes were in Parker’s collection.

His notebook described her as an ideal victim.

Successful, wealthy, isolated from family, professionally competent, but emotionally vulnerable after the loss of her husband, eager for a second chance at happiness.

And finally, Rachel Morrison, age 38, who died in Costa Rica in 2019.

Rachel had been a widow living in Portland, Oregon, working as an elementary school teacher.

She met a man who called himself Derek Morrison at a community fundraiser.

He claimed to work in commercial real estate.

They dated for 5 months before marrying.

During their honeymoon in Costa Rica, Rachel was drugged, buried alive, and cremated.

Derek Morrison, whose real name was Alan Parker, returned to Portland with her ashes and might have gotten away with it completely if not for a 12-year-old girl who noticed that her mother’s jewelry was in the wrong place.

Seven women, 15 years, estimated total value of assets stolen, $4.

3 million.

That was Alan Parker’s legacy when he was arrested on May 3rd, 2019 at his apartment in Portland.

FBI agents approached him as he was leaving to go to the gym.

A normal Saturday morning activity for a man who appeared to have no concerns about being caught.

He showed no emotion during the arrest, no surprise or fear or anger.

He simply allowed himself to be handcuffed, read his Miranda rights, and taken into custody.

When agents told him they had found the storage unit with the urns and the notebooks and all the evidence of his crimes, he showed no reaction at all, as if this information had no personal relevance to him whatsoever.

During interrogation at FBI headquarters in Portland, Alan Parker waved his right to an attorney and agreed to talk to agents.

Over the course of 12 hours, he described his methods in detail, speaking about the murders as if discussing a business operation rather than the deaths of seven human beings.

He explained how he had developed his system over many years, starting with less sophisticated approaches in his 20s and 30s, gradually refining his methods until they became nearly foolproof.

He talked about how he selected victims based on detailed research of public records, social media presence, and community involvement.

He described how he created false identities by obtaining birth certificates of deceased individuals who would have been approximately his age, using those birth certificates to obtain driver’s licenses and social security numbers, building credit histories and employment records that could withstand background checks.

He explained how he integrated into communities by identifying vulnerable women and then positioning himself in places where he would naturally encounter them.

Churches, volunteer organizations, grief support groups, professional networking events, charity fundraisers.

He described how he studied each woman for weeks or months before making initial contact, learning their routines, their interests, their vulnerabilities, their family situations.

He talked about how he built trust slowly over months of seemingly genuine friendship and romance, never rushing, never showing any sign of danger until the moment he decided to kill.

When asked why he did it, Alan Parker gave an answer that horrified everyone who heard it.

He said it was an efficient way to make money.

He said that working a traditional job would have taken decades to accumulate the wealth he had gained in 15 years of killing.

He said that targeting widows and divorces with assets made logical sense because they were emotionally vulnerable and financially stable.

He said that killing them during trips to remote locations minimized risk of detection.

He said that cremating bodies eliminated forensic evidence.

He said that his method had a nearly perfect success rate until Rachel Morrison and the only reason he was caught then was random bad luck that a child noticed jewelry in a closet.

When asked if he felt any guilt or remorse about the seven women he killed or the children he left motherless, Alan Parker said he had never thought about it.

That he didn’t see the victims as real people, but as assets to be acquired, that their children would be resilient and would survive just as millions of other children survived the loss of parents.

He compared what he did to a business transaction, saying that the women received a few months of companionship and attention before their deaths.

So, it wasn’t as if they got nothing in return for what he took from them.

He said it had been a mutually beneficial arrangement except for the ending, which he acknowledged was unfortunate but necessary.

The trial of Alan Parker began in September 2020 and lasted 3 months.

The prosecution presented overwhelming evidence.

The notebooks documenting his plans, the jewelry and personal effects from all seven victims, the cremated remains, the false identification documents, the financial records showing him accessing and liquidating the victim’s assets, the testimony of family members who identified their loved ones belongings, the forensic evidence from Costa Rica showing Rachel Morrison’s burial and cremation, and Alan Parker’s own confession describing ing every detail of his methodology.

The defense attempted to argue that Alan Parker suffered from a personality disorder that prevented him from understanding the moral implications of his actions, that he genuinely believed he was engaging in business transactions rather than murder, that he should be found not guilty by reason of insanity.

But the prosecution demonstrated that Parker had acted with clear premeditation and sophisticated planning.

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