On November 13, 2016, authorities responded to a 911 call from Stephen Allwine that he had come from a dinner out with their son to find that his wife was dead. His initial impression was that it was a suicide.
Stephen had left the house at 5:30 to pick their son up from his grandparents and they had returned at 7:00 to find Amy stretched out in the bedroom. When her body was examined later, authorities would discover that Amy had died from a single gunshot wound to the head. When questioned, Stephen told authorities that Amy hadn’t been feeling well that afternoon, but that she hadn’t wanted to go to urgent care for it.
Police ruled out suicide on the basis of Amy’s position on the ground and by the gun being on the left side when Amy was right-handed. Plus, there were satellite blood drops outside what would be the ordinary range.
Further investigation would show that blood had been cleaned up in the hallway, just outside of the master bedroom. Luminal lighting showed that footprints had gone down the hall into the bathroom and laundry room and back. They were a size 12, the same as Stephen’s.
Six months earlier, the FBI had told Amy that her name was on a list on the dark web at a hitman-for-hire site. Someone with the username dogdaygod had contacted a man named Yura, who ran Besa Mafia, with instructions to make her death look like an accident, and had included specific details about Amy’s itinerary with regards to a dog competition and where Amy was staying. Amy was a dog trainer and ran her own business from home. A photo of her, smiling and obviously posing for the camera, was uploaded for the hitman.
The transaction took place using bitcoin. Some investigative journalism revealed that Besa Mafia might be a fraud, taking people’s money, but not necessarily coming through with the promised hit. Nonetheless, the threat to Amy’s life was real because someone wanted her dead.
The Allwines bought a handgun and installed an extensive security system, and lived under the continual stress of knowing that there was someone who hated Amy enough to spend thousands of dollars to pay for her to be killed. The family spent a couple of weeks in Germany in the early autumn and Amy was able to sleep well for the first time in months knowing whoever it was who had paid for the hit, was back in the United States.
When they returned to the US, there were threatening emails telling Amy to commit suicide or the rest of her family would be harmed. The writer called herself “Jane” and alleged that Amy had had an affair with her husband, which ruined her life. Jane was aware of specific details about Amy’s life and mentioned things like knowing where the family’s gas meter was, and what color shirt her son had worn to school.
There was no evidence, though, that Amy had ever had an affair.
But when it came to Amy’s death—which was quickly perceived to be a murder, not a suicide—investigators said it was unlikely that an intruder had come in, taken off his or her shoes, found the homeowner’s gun, and then cleaned up afterwards. Also, the person would have had to have known to come through the back door, the one with the only camera that wasn’t recording.
Documentaries, such as the one produced by Crime Watch Daily, shared with viewers that no blood on the comforter suggested it had been changed. Investigators had now become suspicious of Stephen and believed that he had murdered his wife in the afternoon and burned all the evidence, including any bloody clothing. The wood stove was going and it was an unseasonably warm day.
Authorities requested access to Stephen’s computers and Stephen agreed. Sixty pieces of electronics were seized—computers, hard drives, thumb drives, cell phones.
Documentaries and news reports told viewers that the 34-digit bitcoin code used to purchase the hitman was found on one of the devices. It had been typed in the notes app on the iPhone, later erased, but still in the cloud. Twenty seconds after the note was created on the iPhone, it was posted on the hitman website with a message, ‘help, I posted the wrong Bitcoin code, this is the one that I meant to use.’ Less than a minute later, the code was deleted from the iPhone. They said that as an IT specialist Stephen should have known this.
Investigators, at this point, viewers were told, now believed that Stephen was also “Jane.” The day before Amy got the first email, one of the devises marked S Allwine had gone online to radaris. And radaris was referenced in the email when “Jane” threatened Amy’s family, saying she knew where they lived due to radaris.com.
Dogdaygod also purchased scopolamine on the dark web. A huge amount was found in Amy’s system. (45 times the normal prescription amount.) Investigators said that Stephen put it in Amy’s lunch and that’s why she had been experiencing the unusual symptoms Stephen told the police about. Investigators believed that Stephen hoped that Amy would die of poisoning.
Defense Attorney Kevin DeVore said in an interview with Crime Watch Daily that there was evidence that the Allwine computer system had been compromised. “I would say hacked would be the right word for it.” Furthermore, any phone could be labelled as his client’s phone.
When the interviewer asked one of the detectives on the case, “What was Stephen Allwine’s biggest mistake?” The detective replied that with his internet savvy he thought he was covering his tracks.
My name is Jennifer Armstrong and when I first heard about Stephen Allwine’s case, I was looking into a similar case down in Florida of a doctor, Adam Frasch, who had been accused of murdering his wife, but who maintained his innocence. Stephen Allwine and I both attended Ambassador College in Big Sandy, Texas at the same time in the early 1990’s and I remembered him and his wife, who was Amy Zutz at the time. I contacted him through the prison email system and what I learned disturbed me because he had experienced similar prosecutorial misconduct as Dr. Frasch down in Florida. Facts had been manipulated and misrepresented to the public. Furthermore, evidence that supported his innocence had been ignored.
The question it raised for me is, is there really such a thing as a fair trial? And if a man is guilty, why does the prosecutor have to resort to shady tactics to “prove” it.
In Licensed to Lie: Exposing Corruption in the Department of Justice, Sidney Powell lists some of the most serious types of prosecutorial misconduct:
Withholding or delaying the release of exculpatory evidence.
Deliberately mishandling, mistreating, or destroying evidence.
Allowing witnesses they know or should know are not truthful to testify.
Pressuring defense witnesses not to testify.
Relying on fraudulent forensic experts.
During plea negotiations, overstating the strength of evidence.
Making statements to the media that are designed to arouse public indignation.
Making improper or misleading statements to the jury.
Failing to report prosecutor misconduct when it is discovered.
I saw examples of these violations of justice in both cases. And my conclusion was that if the prosecutor and his or her team is free to mishandle the evidence and make misleading statements to the media, then the office of the prosecutor has become, in every sense, the judge and jury in the American justice system.
I did several interviews with Stephen Allwine and this is what he shared with me.
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