5 Absolutely Bananas Ways Criminal Cases Got Solved

His comment was eerily similar to an anonymous note left at the Carr house a few months earlier, warning them to move or die. The police also learned that Trepal would regularly host murder mystery events for Mensa members, which itself sounds like a sign of sociopathy. One event featured a "move or else" scenario and a family being poisoned over time. This is like if Jeffrey Dahmer did an off-Broadway show listing all the men he'd murdered.

An undercover officer going by "Sherry Guinn" was sent to strike up a friendship with Trepal. In December of 1989, Trepal handed a house key to Guinn, believing he was helping her escape an abusive husband. Instead, Guinn searched his house and found a bottle of thallium in his garage, among other evidence. Trepal was arrested, and the murder mystery game was cited during his trial. He was found guilty and is currently on death row. This no doubt taught him that crime -- and, uh, helping domestic abuse victims -- doesn't pay.

The victim told police that the perpetrator "looked like Uncle Clarence," but that was merely her way of describing his appearance. She wasn't literally saying it was him. Plus, there was no physical evidence, and Elkins had an alibi. He was convicted anyway. His wife Melissa remained confident that he was innocent, and she came up with a more likely suspect: Earl Mann, a sex offender who lived next door and had just been arrested again for three other rapes.

Mann eventually happened to be transferred to Elkins' cell block. If this were a TV show called something like Cell Blocked, Elkins' six years in prison would have hardened him and he would have vengefully murdered Mann, probably in the laundry room. Instead he gathered evidence to convict Mann by snagging a cigarette butt he dropped. He mailed the butt to Melissa, whose lawyers had Mann's DNA tested. Sure enough, they matched it to the Johnson rape and murder.

Elkins' conviction was overturned, while Mann pleaded guilty to all charges and the sentence was piled on top of the one he was already serving. Although none of those amazing events should have been necessary, given that when Mann was arrested for an unrelated robbery a few weeks after Elkins' arrest, he drunkenly asked officers, "Why don't you charge me with the Judy Johnson murder?" Police noted this in a memo, and then promptly did nothing with it. Good thing he was a smoker who was randomly transferred!

On the night of July 30, 1945, the Indianapolis was hit by two Japanese torpedoes and sank within 12 minutes. 890 of the 1,195 crew members made it off the ship and into the water, but only 316 survived the ensuing four days with no food or water (but plenty of nasty weather and ornery sharks). The Indianapolis had been operating under radio silence while returning from a secret mission to deliver atomic bomb material, and so by the time a patrol discovered them, the ship had suffered the greatest single loss of life in American naval history.

But the curious part is that, while the U.S. lost hundreds of ships during World War II, Captain Charles B. McVay III was the only American to ever be court-martialed for losing his. He was convicted of "hazarding his ship by failing to zigzag," in a controversial ruling that didn't account for him not being informed that a sub was operating near his assigned route. McVay's career was ruined, he was bombarded with hate mail like "Merry Christmas! Our family's holiday would be a lot merrier if you hadn't killed my son," and in 1968 he took his own life with his Navy service revolver.

When Scott began his research, the details of the sinking were still somewhat hazy, and so his project evolved into a years-long crusade to clear McVay's name. Scott interviewed nearly 150 survivors, reviewed more than 800 archival documents, and ultimately testified before Congress at an age when the only documents we were carefully reviewing were intensely pornographic.

Pensacola News JournalNo word on what grade he got, but hopefully congressional testimony was worth at least a few extra credit points.

Survivors (and McVay's son) had long been working to rehabilitate McVay's name, and even the captain of the Japanese sub got involved -- he maintained that he had been in a position to sink the Indianapolis regardless of whether or not it zigzagged. But Scott's efforts were able to break through the bureaucratic barriers, with McVay's son commenting, "He's gotten farther in Congress already in a few months than I or the survivors have in 52 years." In 2000, Bill Clinton signed a resolution that exonerated McVay, and Scott later embarked on his own naval career. So the clear lesson here is to always show violent movies to children.

They did have the killer's DNA -- that's how they linked the victims -- but it didn't match anyone on record. So they extended their search to "familial DNA" and matched their evidence to Christopher Franklin, who had once been brought in on a weapons charge. Police then turned to picking up DNA from Chris' relatives, in a process that maybe wasn't super legal.

Police suspected Chris' father, Lonnie Franklin, who had worked at an LAPD station as a mechanic in the '80s. An undercover officer followed him to a pizza place for a birthday party and, posing as a waiter, collected a napkin, glass, and discarded pizza crust. His DNA matched, he was arrested in July 2010, and in 2016 he was convicted of ten murders. So if you're concerned about your privacy and aren't a brutal serial killer, always remember to eat your crusts.

E. Reid Ross has a book called BIZARRE WORLD that's on store shelves as we speak. Or you could just order it now from Amazon or Barnes and Noble and leave a scathing/glowing review. Pete has a Twitter where he posts jokes. Follow Ryan Menezes on Twitter for bits cut from this article and other stuff no one should see.

For more, check out Why No Cop Show On TV Is Accurate (Yes, Even 'The Wire'):

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