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Crime

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IM Crime Files: The Audit

Editor’s Note, Feb. 21, 2013:

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Today Is Lauren Spierer's 22nd Birthday, and Her Family Still Wants Answers

Lauren Spierer’s parents, Robert and Charlene, recently spoke with People magazine to reveal the stark, harsh reality of living without their daughter. What seems like minutiae to some, small things, will bring back the pain of losing their daughter—so much so that, according to People, Spierer’s boxes from her time at college remain unpacked. Today, January 17, 2013, is significant for them: It marks the day on which Spierer either hopefully celebrates her 22nd birthday—somewhere, somehow—or would have celebrated the occasion.

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Figures from Lauren Spierer Investigation Return to Spotlight

Sadly, there has been little in the way of breaking news to report about Lauren Spierer since June, when IM last looked into the disappearance of the Indiana University student—namely information on her whereabouts, what happened to her, or publicized leads in the police investigation. 

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The Lauren Spierer Mystery, Unraveled

In the predawn hours of June 3, 2011, Lauren Spierer, a vivacious, 20-year-old fashion-merchandising major from New York, vanished without a trace from downtown Bloomington. Her disappearance felt like deja vu—a horrible, baffling case of deja vu. A bubbly young Indiana University student, missing. A police department unable to explain why. Crying, frantic parents. And an idyllic college town wracked by one question: How could this happen here, again?

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Life and Death. And Life.

“I told my daughter, Angie, ‘I wish everybody would stop talking about the officer, because we don’t know whose lungs these are,” says Cathy Lewis.

Jim Voyles. Indianapolis Monthly, July 2011.
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He Hired Jim Voyles

When Tunks stepped out of the store, the door of a van in the parking lot slid open, and a team of armed police piled out. He heard them shouting, “Get down on the ground!” His first thought was that someone coming out of the store right behind him must be in trouble. He swiveled around to look. No one was there. When he turned back, red lights flashed in his eyes. He looked down and saw a swarm of tight red dots flitting around on his chest—laser sights. “On the ground!” came the shouts, again, and this time Tunks obliged. One of the officers cuffed Tunks’s hands behind his back and sat him on the curb.

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