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A cabin in the Sierra Nevada goes quiet after a
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party until footsteps hit the porch after three am. The
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door blows open, a gun flashes in the dark, and
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Bonnie Hood is dead with only one witness barely alive
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beside her. Police find clues, make an arrest, and head
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to court, but the verdict is only the beginning.
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What you are about to pet you is pot to
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be based on witness accounts, testimonies, and public record.
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This is.
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Terrifying, and tonight.
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We have a case from California's Sierra Nevada. In Camp Nelson,
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a quiet lodge night ends with a cabin door forced
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open and gunfire in the dark. Bonnie Hood is killed
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in her bed. The man beside her shot in the head,
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yet survives. Investigators suspect a robbery until they find nothing
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was stolen. The evidence leads to Bruce Edward Bowchamp. The
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case goes to trial, The verdict not guilty and double
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jeopardy seals the file forever, but the story doesn't end
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with not guilty. One year later, the man closest to Bonnie,
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her husband, Jim Hood, comes face to face with Bowchamp.
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What happens next sets off a second shooting and a
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second courtroom battle, this one driven by motive, fear and
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the question no jury can answer for the first crime?
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Did justice slip away into the darkness on a mountain
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road where no one was supposed to be watching? Who
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really got away with murder? August nineteenth, nineteen ninety The
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remote mountain hamlet of Camp Nelson, California, sleeps under a
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canopy made of towering pines in a rustic cabin at
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the Camp Nelson Lodge, a forty three acre retreat miles
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from the nearest city. Forty six year old Bonnie Hood
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lies in bed as the clock creaks past three am.
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The night air is thin and still at nearly five
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thousand feet of elevation, broken only by the distant rush
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of a river and the whisper of wind through the sequoias.
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Inside Bonnie's cabin, the celebration of hours earlier has faded
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to an eerie quiet. That Saturday, the lodge hosted a
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lavish wedding party, and now Bonnie and her guest, Rudy Manuel,
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the lodge caretaker, have finally settled down to rest. Rudy
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is a trusted employee and much more He and Bonnie
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have grown close in recent months, sharing secrets under these
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isolated stars, though the world beyond these mountains has no idea. Suddenly,
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a noise cracks the silence. Footsteps on the cabin's wooden porch.
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Bonnie and Rudy's stir hearts pounding. Before they can react,
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the cabin door crashes open. A figure looms in the doorway,
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a man roughly thirty, an unknown intruder. In the darkness,
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Bonnie can just make out the glint of a firearm
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raised toward them. The stranger's voice cuts through the cabin.
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He demands money, talking about cash from the wedding tips. Rudy,
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adrenaline surging, stammers that there is no money here. In
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a flash, the intruder opens fire. A gunshot explodes, and
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Rudy col lapses a bullet wound to his head. Bonnie screams,
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throwing herself backward on the bed. The gunman steps closer
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to her. She can see the outline of his face now,
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and hears him snarl words that chill her blood. I
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know you, bitch, he spits. The muzzle flashes, A point
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blank shot tears through bonnie hood, ending her life. As
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quickly as he came, the killer slips away into the
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mountainous night. Smoke and silence fill the cabin. Amid the bloodshed,
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Rudy Manuel clings to life, barely conscious but alive, next
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to Bonnie's motionless body in the darkness of Camp Nelson.
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One horror has unfolded and another one is just beginning.
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Bonnie Hood had long dreamed of a life in the
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Sierra Nevada Woods. In nineteen eighty seven, when a historic
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mountain resort in Camp Nelson went up for sale, she
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and her husband, Jim seized the chance and bought it.
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Bonnie left the suburbs behind and moved to Tulare County
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to run the Camp Nelson Lodge, a rustic forty three
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acre property ringed by giant Sequoia trees. Jim stayed in
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Orange County with their two teenage children while Bonnie embraced
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the quiet rhythms of mountain life. Locals saw her trading
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designer outfits for boots and denham, even swapping her luxury
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car for a horse. As one account noted quote, Bonnie
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spoke of the joys of leaving behind behind her world
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of charge cards and trading her Mercedes for the simpler
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transportation of an Arabian steed. It was an idyllic escape,
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at least for a while. Jim Hood meanwhile remained in
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Newport Beach. Wealthy, sociable, and seemingly content. The couple prospered.
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Jim's real estate holdings were thought to be worth millions,
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and the family's lifestyle reflected that. While Bonnie adjusted to
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rustic solitude, Jim moved in high powered circles back home.
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Known as a millionaire developer with a taste for adventure.
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By the late nineteen eighties, Jim was jetting off on
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thrill seeking trips, visiting the Amazon and running with the
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bulls at Pampalona. Then returning to Orange County's luxury and
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ocean views. He basked in the Orange County social scene,
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enjoying a glitzy lifestyle among the elite. In those years,
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the Hood's marriage evolved into an unorthodox arrangement. Two different
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lives split between two very different worlds. They made the
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distance look easy. Every day, Bonnie and Jim stayed connected
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by long phone calls and faxes between the mountains and
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the coast. They reunited on weekends, alternating between Newport Beaches
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comforts and Camp Nelson's cabins. In a glowing profile, the
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whole Hood family praised the unconventional set up. Bonnie could
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chase her wilderness dreams, Jim could focus on his businesses,
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and the kids had both parents in different ways. The
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Hoods even claimed the separation brought them closer together. They
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installed six separate phone lines linking home to lodge and
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faxed schoolwork back and forth. Even the Hood children noted
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that the unusual living situation actually brought the family closer together.
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As observers saw it, theirs was a modern, unusual marriage
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that they all swore was working perfectly. Behind the scenes, however,
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cracks were forming. Running Camp Nelson Lodge was far more
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costly than expected. Instead of breaking even, the retreat began
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devouring cash. Prosecutors would later argue that Bonnie's dream project
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was a money pit, sucking hundreds of thousands of dollars
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from the family. Finances grew over money, and when Bonnie
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received a two hundred and fifty thousand dollars inheritance, Jim
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allegedly pressed her to sink it into the floundering lodge,
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and they bitterly quarreled over it. At the same time,
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Jim's own business empire was on shaky ground. He had
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his fingers in so many pies that even though he
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claimed to be a multi millionaire, in fact he was
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in a precarious financial situation, one investigators later noted, And
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while Bonnie poured her energy into the lodge, she found
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affection with someone new. By mid nineteen ninety, Bonnie Hood
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was growing close to her handyman Rudy, a fact that
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would remain a secret from Jim, at least for a while.
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Investigators would later suggest that Bonnie was even contemplating divorce
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by that point. August eighteenth, nineteen ninety, the final day
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of Bonnie Hood's life was anything but quiet. Camp Nelson
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Lodge was buzzing with activity as Bonnie hosted a large
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weekend wedding. The cabins and bar were packed with celebrating guests.
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Bonnie thrived in her element, playing gracious hostess amid the
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pine scented mountain air. As daylight gave way to dusk,
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the wedding party wound down with laughter and last calls
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at the lodge's bar. Locals later remembered one unfamiliar patron
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who lingered late, a lone man drinking Budweiser, conspicuous by
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his rough look and a missing tooth. By midnight, the
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newlyweds and their friends had departed, and Bonnie finally closed
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up for the night. The summer air in the Sierras
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turned cold, and still a long, hectic day was over,
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or so it seemed. One by one, the final cars
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departed down the twisting mountain road, leaving the lodge isolated
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in darkness once more. Meanwhile, back in Newport Beach, Jim
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Hood was unaware of any trouble brewing in the mountains
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that Saturday night. While Bonnie oversaw the festivities up north,
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Jim stayed over two hundred miles away at home. By midnight,
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he was likely asleep in his coastal suburban enclave. Assuming
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all was well, Jim had grown accustomed to Bonnie's lodge,
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thriving under her care. He had no reason to expect
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a phone call in the middle of the night. In
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Jim's world, August eighteenth, nineteen ninety was just another pleasant
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summer evening. As he slept soundly in Orange County, the
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only monsters he knew were on the movie screen. Or
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in the pages of financial ledgers. The real threat was
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far from his mind and far up in the mountains.
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Back at Camp Nelson, the lodge settled into a deep
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silence after midnight. Inside Bonnie's cabin, a single lamp glowed
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as she and Rudy Manuel retired to bed. Outside, the
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remote resort was utterly dark, no street lights, no passing cars,
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only the endless forest pressing in. The partying crowd was gone,
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and even the crickets had grown quiet. In the chill
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Mountain air Camp Nelson was a community where violent crime
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was unheard of. Bonnie had little reason to fear intruders
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on her property. If she had any worries, she never
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showed them. Here in her beloved mountains, she was usually
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at ease, But on this night, something was off. Out
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among the black silhouettes of the pine trees, an unseen
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presence was watching the lodge, waiting for the right moment
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to strike. Bonnie had no inkling whatsoever that her remote
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paradise was about to become the scene of a nightmare.
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A little after three a m a faint crunch of
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footsteps broke the silence outside Bonnie's cabin. In the darkness,
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A shadow moved across the porch. Floorboards creaked under the
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slow weight of someone approaching inside. Bonnie's eyes opened just
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as the doorknob began to turn. Her heart froze. In
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an instant, every comfort of her mountain refuge evaporated, replaced
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by raw fear. Without warning, the cabin door crashed open,
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kicked violently inward. The sudden blast of noise and motion
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jolted Bonnie and Rudy upright. A blinding flashlight beam swept
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across their faces as a dark figure lunged through the doorway,
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pointing a handgun directly at them with a finger on
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the trigger. Bonnie opened her mouth to scream. Dazed and bleeding.
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Rudy Manuel managed to grab the phone by Bonnie's bed
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and dial for help. In a shaky voice. He gave
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the essentials, one person dead, one wounded. He also gave
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a critical clue before losing consciousness. The shooter was driving
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a red jeep. In the pre dawn hours, sirens finally
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pierced the quiet as first responders navigated the winding mountain
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road to Camp Nelson. Paramedics found Bonnie beyond saving, but
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Rudy was miraculously alive despite a gunshot to his head.
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Sheriff's deputies secured the crime scene. A once peaceful cabin
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was now a sight of unimaginable violence, with broken glass
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and blood staining the pinewood floors. In the tiny community,
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residents awoke to the rare sound of emergency sirens echoing
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through the pines, something practically unheard of in those parts.
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Investigators from the Tulare County Sheriff's Office began piecing together
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what happened. Bonnie had been shot at close range in
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her own bed, and Rudy had taken a bullet to
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the head, yet nothing of value was taken from the cabin.
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She had several hundred dollars in her purse and expensive
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jewelry in the room, but police said nothing was missing.
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That fact chilled detectives. This was no botched robbery. The
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intruder came to kill. Forensics teams were covered a thirty
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eight caliber bullet and noted footprints outside leading into the woods.
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The technicians also dusted for fingerprints, hopeful that the killer
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might have left a mark. Amid the chaos, deputies alerted
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neighboring counties to watch for any red jeeps speeding away
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on the mountain highways, but the killer had a head
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start in the wilderness. As the investigation deepened, one uncomfortable
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secret soon came to life. When Rudy Manuel regained the
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ability to speak, he confessed the truth. He and Bonnie
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had been lovers. The married handyman admitted their affair quietly
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to detectives, a fact he had hidden from Jim. This
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cast the crime in a very different light, a jealous rage,
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a love triangle gone wrong in the room, rumor mill
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of tiny camp Nelson scandal spread fast. Locals speculated in
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hushed tones about the other man in Bonnie's bed. For
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a moment, even Rudy himself came under scrutiny. Was it
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possible he had staged the attack? Or could Bonnie's husband
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have learned of the affair and sought revenge. Nothing was
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off the table in those early hours, and fear and
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suspicion ran wild. In the immediate aftermath, only certain facts
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were clear. Bonnie was shot dead in her own bed
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at around three a m. Rudy Manuel was found seriously
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wounded but alive, supporting his account of an unknown intruder.
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Physical evidence, including a shoe print outside and a latent
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fingerprint confirmed that a third party was indeed at the scene.
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Investigators found no sign of forced entry, but the cabin
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door itself was broken. In early suspicions that Rudy or
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a jealous third party staged the scene remained uncorroborated. Beyond
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Rudy's description of a fleeing red jeep, the killer's identity
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was entirely unknown at this stage. Meanwhile, James or Jim
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Hood raced to Camp Nelson as soon as he got
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word of the attack. Arriving amid the chaos, Jim was
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questioned by investigators on the morning of August nineteenth. Visibly distraught,
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he professed ignorance of any marital rift. Jim described his
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marriage as loving and solid, and insisted he had no
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idea about Bonnie's infidelity. He would maintain for years. He
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floated his own theory for the crime, perhaps someone Bonnie
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had angered, a disgruntled patron, or a neighbor with a
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grudge had come after her. Detectives noted Jim's input and
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kept it on file. Standard procedure or not, the widowed
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husband was always an important person of interest in any
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murder case, and this was no exception. Within days, the
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investigation scored a breakthrough. A fingerprint lifted from a beer
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bottle at the lodge bar came back from the lab
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with a match. It belonged to thirty one year old
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Bruce Edward Bowchamp, a construction worker from Fontana, California. Detectives
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were stunned. Camp Nelson's mystery intruder wasn't a local at all.
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He lived hundreds of miles south in San Bernardino County.
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Digging deeper, investigators discovered a boot print at the crime
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scene that appeared to match Bowchamp's footwear. A receipt recovered