Worth More Dead

“smother,” “homicide,” “poisons,” “accidental deaths,” and just plain “murder.”
    It was a stunning discovery and hard for them to fathom. But Durall had clearly been studying various methods of homicide for months, and he had put the word “spouse” in the search slots. That left little doubt who the intended victim of a cleverly planned homicide was.
    And now Bob Durall’s wife was missing, his bedroom and hallways were full of blood, and he had been arrested for murder.
    They looked for more clusters that were not work-related, wondering if their longtime boss had a secret life that involved more than they had located so far.
    He had visited sites about Monica Lewinsky, prostitution, Venusians, photo sites with titles like “skin,” and, surprisingly, a popular website that was the most up-to-date version of a lonely hearts column or dating service: Match.com.
    Match.com is a perfectly legitimate way for singles to hook up with other singles who have similar interests. More active than ever today, Match.com claims that 200,000 people met “that special someone” through their service in 2004. Hundreds of couples go on to marriage. Of course, that doesn’t mean that owners of the website or similar sites can guarantee that everyone who signs up and pays to post there is telling the truth. The website warns that online dating is no more or less safe than any other kind of dating and urges members to read their safety tips and to initially meet strangers in public places. Even so, it is easier when you are on the web to pretend to be something you are not. Even in a bar, women and men can see whom they are talking to. They can check for wedding rings or for the band of pale skin that shows that to appear single the person has recently removed a ring. Unless someone is really good at makeup and wardrobe, singles in a bar know whether they’re communicating with a male or a female.
    On Match.com, most of those looking for love or companionship have a handle or screen name, preferring not to have anyone who visits the site know who they really are.
    Bob Durall’s computer expert coworkers found emails from women to his computer address. They were written to someone called Freeedom. It wasn’t a typographical error; Durall had deliberately added a third e to the word. They were all from correspondents who sounded intelligent and interesting, their grammar and spelling perfect.
    One woman in Oregon wrote to Freeedom: “It’s found within me first and foremost, but then if you and I ‘connect’ as we should, it will be found within our shared hearts as well…. I’m looking for (more) true opportunities for learning and personal growth, emotionally, spiritually and professionally…. I love to share strong, deep and true ‘connections’ with others. Good conversation, honest communication and being open to new ideas are all very important in my book. Playing games is not my deal, just want to be true to myself and to you.”
    This woman, a professional, wrote that she was beginning to correspond with a few other men. “But I also know full well that I am looking for someone extra special. Could you be him?”
    Whatever Freeedom had written to this woman, she was apparently quick to trust him. She said she was “taking a chance” by giving him her real email address, since her subscription to Match.com was going to run out soon.
    But did she totally trust him? Probably not. Her last email had a cheerful but veiled question in it.
    “I look forward to hearing from you, Freeedom. (Does this handle mean you were married before and are feeling quite ‘released’ or what? )”
    Clearly, she wanted to know if he was married.
    The computer detectives kept going, finding more messages from single women directed to Freeedom, who seemed to have made quite an impression with his profile on Match.com.
    Now, they looked for Freeedom himself, typing in anon. Freeedom. And there he was. They were even informed of how close he was to their location in the King County Housing Authority’s offices: “Distance: 7 miles (11 km) from you based on registered location. This member’s last activity on Match.com: August 5, 1998.”
    Only one day before Carolyn Durall had disappeared.
    Freeedom’s profile would indeed have been tempting to a middle-aged woman:
    Romantic Spiritual Seeker, Lover of Life, and Dad
    39-year-old male, located in Seattle, U.S., seeking 28 to 45 year-old female for email