I went undercover to catch my twin's killer
Lisa, left, and Teresa as teenagers
Thursday 27th December 2007
My twin sister, Lisa, sounded so excited.
'I'll be at yours this time tomorrow,' she gabbled on the phone. 'I can't wait!'
It was Sunday, 11 August 1996, and, after eight years of marriage, Lisa, 34, was divorcing her husband, Bryce Thomas, 35, and moving into a flat near me. It was a fresh start, and I was thrilled.
Although we were twins, we couldn't have been more different. Growing up, I'd been the quiet, studious type, while Lisa was a party girl. I'd gone to university and got a job as a care worker, while she'd left school at 16 and kept having fun. So, at 26, I was relieved when Lisa married Bryce. Maybe now she'll calm down, I thought.
Two years later, I married Terry Nelson, then 34. And although Lisa and Bryce lived a two-hour drive away in Bakersfield, California, the four of us regularly met up. Soon, Lisa and Bryce had their children, Christina and Breanna, while we had our two kids, Kyle and Keana.
But lately, things had started to go wrong between Lisa and Bryce.
'He's so controlling,' she complained. 'He hates me going out.'
She rebelled by partying more than ever. But now, after starting divorce proceedings, she'd be getting away from Bryce forever. Christina, then 9, and Breanna, 4, were already staying with me while their mum got things sorted.
'She'll be here for you on Tuesday,' I told them.
But when Lisa didn't turn up, I didn't worry. She was always late. Still, next day, I rang her house.
'She's run off with her boyfriend,' Bryce snapped.
What? Lisa had mentioned a guy called Joel, but she wouldn't leave her kids and run off without a word. Would she? By Friday, when Bryce came to collect the kids, I was really panicking. Where was she?
Bryce seemed agitated, and kept insisting he didn't know where Lisa was. As he left, I felt uneasy. Something was very wrong. I decided to ring round Lisa's friends. Not one of them had seen her since the weekend, including Joel, her new boyfriend.
'Something's happened,' I sobbed to Terry. 'I think she's dead…'
And I was sure Bryce had something to do with it.
I phoned the police immediately, reporting Lisa missing and telling them my suspicions. But, without any evidence, they couldn't get a warrant to search Bryce's house.
'We need to go round there and get some evidence then,' I told my brother, Rick Seabolt, 50.
So we drove there a few nights later. The flat was in darkness.
'What now?' Rick asked.
Looking at the shadowy windows, I felt overwhelming sadness.
Some instinct was screaming that my sister had died in that flat.
'I'm going to break in,' I said, peering round to make sure no one was watching.
'Are you sure?' Rick gasped.
'Yes,' I nodded. Nothing could hold me back.
Creeping down an alleyway by the side of the flat, I tried to open the bedroom window. It wouldn't budge.
Breathing heavily, I gathered my strength and pushed again. Suddenly, it slid open. Goosepimples covered my body. It was as if Lisa was helping me. Climbing inside, I ran to the front door and let Rick in.
'What's that smell?' he winced as I switched on the lights.
'Disinfectant,' I realised.
Hearts pounding, we searched every room. In the spare room, I saw a duvet and pillow on the floor. It looked like Bryce was sleeping there instead of the bedroom. Strange… Back in the bedroom, I noticed the bed wasn't made properly. A sheet had been roughly pulled up and a duvet thrown on top.
Without thinking, I started stripping back the sheet. I couldn't see anything, so I slid my hand under the mattress.
'Urgh,' I cried, jumping back.
It was wet.
'Rick, come quick!' I called.
As he pulled the mattress back, I gasped. It was covered in blood. Lisa's blood?
'Let's go,' I sobbed.
We drove to the police station, and what we told them gave them enough evidence to search the flat and bring Bryce in for questioning. As well as the mattress, police found blood splatters on the walls and chest of drawers. Bryce stuck by his story that he hadn't seen Lisa in days, and explained the blood by saying she had recently had a heavy nosebleed.
'Rubbish,' I snapped.
He even had the cheek to go on telly to appeal for information about her whereabouts.
But as I looked at his tear-stained face, doubt niggled. Had I got it wrong? Was he really capable of murder? I started to wonder even more when the police discovered Lisa had recently got in with a bad crowd and started using the highly- addictive drug, crystal meth. They tried to interview her new friends, but they wouldn't cooperate. So I stuck up posters, set up a helpline and pestered local newspapers to keep the story alive.
Six months passed, and nobody came forward with information. I couldn't just sit and wait for the police to gather evidence. I've got to do something, I vowed. I decided the only way was to go undercover. Pushing my flowery blouses and pleated skirts to one side in the wardrobe, I pulled out the only pair of jeans I owned and a clingy vest top. If I wanted to mix with Lisa's friends, I had to dress like them.
I had to get into the drug dens, act like my sister and make friends with these people. If they trusted me, they might give me clues about what had happened to Lisa.
'I can't believe you're doing this,' Terry said, as he watched me putting on bright red lipstick. 'It's so dangerous.'
True. But if I couldn't protect my sister, I could at least get her justice.
So, that night, I drove to Bakersfield, to a house where Lisa used to hang out.
'I'm Lisa's sister, Teresa,' I said, when a man with long hair opened the door. He invited me into the living room. It was full of people drinking and smoking, and the air was thick with the smell of drugs. I rarely drank, and had only smoked once when I was 15, but I took a beer and lit up a cigarette. After an hour, I felt I could risk talking about Lisa.
'Something's happened to her,' I said. 'I'm trying to find out what.'
Gradually, her friends started opening up to me.They said Lisa had met a well-known drug dealer the night before I believed she'd died. Through Lisa's friend, I arranged a meeting with him a few days later. I don't know what I expected, but when I arrived at the address I'd been given, there were bodyguards with guns everywhere. The drug dealer told me he'd visited Lisa and Bryce at 10pm the night before she disappeared.
'We all did crystal meth,' he admitted. 'But Lisa was acting odd, she was groggy and disorientated.'
Had Bryce sedated her, so she'd be easier to kill? I wasn't sure, so I went to the authorities.
Somehow though, word got back to the drug underworld that I'd spoken to the police. And, as
I drove home the next day, a car sped up and started following me. But I wasn't scared, just more determined than ever to find out the truth. So, slamming my foot on the accelerator, I managed to shake them off. Now, with my information in the hands of the police, I just had to wait.
Finally, in August 1997 — a year after her she vanished — DNA results from Lisa's flat came back. There was a 99.86 per cent chance the blood from the mattress was hers. It was enough for police to charge Bryce with her murder.
In March 1998, the trial began at Kern County Courthouse. Bryce denied murder, his lawyer claiming he was a hard-working father whose wife had spiralled out of control, then gone missing one morning. But it also came out that Bryce had threatened to kill Lisa more than once. Then it was my turn to give evidence.
I spent three days telling the courtroom about finding the bloody mattress and my time undercover. It was enough to see Bryce convicted of second degree murder and sentenced to 15 years in jail. Rot in hell, I thought as he was taken down to the cells. Sadly, Terry and I had split due to the stress. But, with justice done, I focused on getting on with life.
Then, out of the blue, I got a call from the prosecuting lawyer.
'Bryce has tried to hire someone to kill you,' he said.
I gasped, horrified, as he explained Bryce had offered $10,000 (£5,000) to a hitman to have me killed. Unfortunately for him, that 'hitman' had turned out to be an undercover police officer. He was given an extra 12 years for trying to arrange my murder. But I was so scared, I moved away from the area, along with Lisa's children, who were now in my custody.
I still grieve for my twin. To this day, Bryce refuses to say what he did with her body, but I'm determined to find out. Only when I've found Lisa's final resting place, will we both truly find peace.
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