In November 1969, fifteen-year-old Bethany Miller, daughter of Charles and Rebecca Miller of Hudson Falls, Texas, was driving her father’s pickup truck downtown just before midnight. She had only a learner’s permit, no driver’s license. Bethany’s mother had recently died, and both Bethany and Charlie had sort of “fallen apart” after Rebecca’s death, according to neighbors interviewed for the article. The police report said that Bethany ran a red light in downtown Hudson Falls and hit a Ford Mustang that was making a left turn across the intersection. The driver of the Mustang was killed instantly. He was seventeen-year-old Jason Wells, the son of Judge Garrison Wells, a municipal court judge in Hudson Falls. Bethany pleaded guilty to vehicular homicide and was sentenced to twenty-seven months in a juvenile detention facility.
As I read the story and began reconciling it with what we already knew, a picture began coming into focus. After weeks of stumbling around in the dark, it suddenly felt like someone had switched the lights on. Shannon Miller and Bethany Miller were cousins who were born in the same year, 1954. Shannon died in a plane crash along with her entire family at the age of four. Bethany Miller got into serious trouble as a minor, went to prison, and was released at the age of seventeen. There were no searchable mentions of Bethany Miller from Hudson Falls after 1971, which was the year that Shannon Miller, now Shannon Claremore, would have enrolled in college—the wedding announcement said she graduated from East Carolina University in the class of 1975. I knew I had a long way to go before I could bring any of my theories to the authorities, but for now I just needed to say it out loud. I turned to Ridley. “I think Bethany Miller stole her cousin’s identity and started a new life for herself after she got out of prison.”
Ridley looked at me, eyes wide, and for one awful moment I thought she was going to start laughing or tell me I was crazy, but instead she said, “How does a person even do something like that?”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. She didn’t think it was crazy…or at least she didn’t think I was. “Identity theft in 2020 looks very different than it would have back then, but it definitely happened,” I said. “I took a class in college on the counterculture literature of the 1970s…”
Ridley shot me a sideways look.
“It’s relevant, I promise,” I said. “As a part of the class, we read this book—more of a glorified pamphlet, actually—called The Paper Trip. It was all about how to steal the identity of someone who died. It gave detailed instructions.”
“Really? Is that even legal?”
“Identity theft, no, but the book was protected under free speech. Anyway, the point is that it used to be way easier to become someone else back before the internet and before everything was digitized.”
“And you think Bethany Miller started living as Shannon Miller after she got out of prison?”
“Obviously this is all just guesswork right now, but think about it: Bethany would have been released from detention when she was about seventeen. What if she wanted to go to college or get a job? She’d have a hard time doing that with a felony conviction on her record. Juvenile records aren’t sealed or expunged until five years after a crime is committed in most states. And,” I said, my excitement mounting as I made more connections, “as next of kin, she would have had access to all of her cousin’s information, like her social security number, date of birth, etc. Or at least her dad would have.”
“You think that’s what she and Charlie are trying to hide?” Ridley sounded excited now too.
“Let’s say Bethany got out of prison and wanted a fresh start. And here she had this first cousin who died way too young, same age, same everything—it’s like a premade blank slate! I could see someone in that position thinking, ‘What’s the harm in using her name and social?’ Bethany ‘becomes’ Shannon Miller, she and Charlie move to North Carolina, and she enrolls in East Carolina University. All is well. It’s practically a victimless crime.”
Ridley’s eyes were glued to mine. She was utterly absorbed in the tale I was spinning, however speculative it might be.
“Then, a few years later she meets and marries Wyatt Claremore,” I continued. “She becomes Shannon Claremore and thinks the whole mess is behind her. The only one who knows about her old life is her father, and he’s not telling. She’s succeeded in completely transforming her life.” My wheels started turning faster and faster. “Years go by and then one day Albert Ellison comes along asking questions about the Miller family who died in the plane crash on Chincoteague. He wants to know why they were laid to rest without a funeral, why no one mourned them or wrote an obituary for them. He gets in touch with Shannon Claremore and maybe Charlie as well. Maybe he figures out the connection between Shannon and Bethany.”
“Do you think that’s what got him killed? Uncovering an identity theft?”
“I don’t know,” I said. Hearing it out loud made it sound even more outlandish than thinking it. But there was something there, something about it that hit a note of truth for me. “The wife of one of the wealthiest and most recognizable moral authorities out there would certainly have a lot to lose if her secrets were revealed.”
“Yeah, but…” Ridley crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back against the chair.
“I know…it’s pretty out there.”
“So,” she said. “What are you going to do now?”
I looked out the window at the rural Virginia landscape as we rolled down the highway toward Tuttle Corner. It wasn’t lost on me that this was the same road Flick had traveled in his search for the truth. I thought about where this had led him and my grandfather. “It’s time for this to end,” I said. “So that’s what I’m going to do. End it—one way or another.”