Who was Lynne Schulze?

It was the summer of 1971—18-yr-old Lynne Schulze’s final summer before heading off to Middlebury College.

She was part of a tight-knit group of about a dozen friends from Simsbury High School, and she found herself spending her last moments of youth in their familiar stomping grounds.

She and her cohorts took turns on the rope swing splashing down in Simsbury Reservoir, a small body of water just walking distance from her house. It was tucked away from the prying eyes of watchful parents, and as she flew through the air, she could almost taste the independence of adulthood.

Lynne was bright and displayed an intuition that revealed itself in her performance on standardized tests. She had aced the PSAT’S earning herself a spot amongst those upper echelon of students who were commended by the National Merit Scholarship Program. It paved the way, along with her strong academics, for her to be accepted by Middlebury College, a quaint private liberal arts school nestled in the valley west of the Green Mountains in rural Vermont. It is one of the “little Ivy’s”, a group of highly academic private schools in New England that rival their big brothers.

She was petite: 5FT 3IN, 110 pounds, with straight shoulder-length dark blonde hair and blue eyes. Her face showed some scars of puberty – she was struggling with acne.

Her father, Otto, described her as “quite independent” and “self-reliant”, and her sisters said that she was outgoing and got along well with people. She had a verve for life and natural curiosity and was eager to explore. Her sister said she enjoyed the “challenge of new adventures.”

Her hometown of Simsbury was a suburban oasis perched halfway between the big cities of Hartford, Connecticut and Springfield, Massachusetts. She was in a small neighborhood, on a short street off the main drag called Brook Dr, aptly named after the little brook that ran adjacent to the homes.

Simsbury was filled with nature. As you drove around the tidy suburb, trees flanked virtually every main street and two-lane country road. Grassy medians dotted with conifers broke up the miles of paved parking lots standing guard outside the strip malls, imparting to the observer that it was a town that cared not just about raw utility but also about beauty and nature.

Lynne Ships Off to Middlebury College

Lynne Schulze joined about five hundred other rising freshmen at the picturesque Middlebury college plopped down in the middle of nowhere. Every building seemed postcard-worthy: beautiful ivy-covered 17th century French architecture dotted the campus with a mountain-range backdrop. As summer turned to fall, the manicured grounds and grassy malls were littered with beautiful leaves from lemon drop to fiery orange.

Lynne’s mother, Virginia, said the family talked with Lynne every week on the phone. Lynne always looked forward to the weekly letter that she would get from her mom back home. And it wasn’t just her, but other members of the family as well. Lynne was a prolific letter-writer. Her sister, Anne, said that she would write home as often as twice a week.

The little town was dominated by the college, and the cute shops next to campus catered to the well-heeled young crowd. She loved a knick-knack shop called “Little Wings” and frequented the “Vermont Book Shop”. She loved the unique little objects made from leather and woven textiles that caught her eye. She was crafty herself, and took a whittling class in Middlebury’s Frog Hollow district, which had just begun offering educational arts classes in its inaugural year of 1971. Anne said that “she really enjoyed it and showed off her whittling project to several of her college friends.” She liked to hike and was in a perfect place to do it, joining the Middlebury College Outdoor Club in traipsing around the state.

As she got into her new rhythm of life, she grew disenchanted with class. She told her friend and fellow classmate, Jan Wienpahl, that she was bored with her classes and thought it was a waste of time to go and listen to a lecture. “She thought it would be better to simply read the thing on her own. She felt that she would learn more that way.” Lynne and she had talked about leaving Middlebury at the end of the semester or the maybe the end of the year. Lynne had said that she wasn’t really happy and didn’t like the school.

Lucia Solorzano, of Bangor, Maine, described Lynne as a heavy reader and a deep thinker, but evidently not in pursuit of her own studies.

Even her father, Otto, conceded that her daughter had become disenchanted with school, and was “not all that interested in college.” She still worried, though, over her grades and her schoolwork.

She had confided as much in them when she returned home on Saturday, November 13th, and as she was nearing the end of her first semester she returned home again two weeks later for Thanksgiving on November 25th, hitching a ride with the other Simsbury girls who were attending Middlebury. She was glad to be around her family but wasn’t looking forward to the return to Middlebury or her impending exams.

On December 7th, she enrolled in classes for the coming Spring semester, evidently making a decision to stay, and on Wednesday, December 8th, she called home and spoke to her mom, Virginia. Virginia remembered her as being in good spirits and asking about how everyone was doing. Lynne said that she was eager to be coming home for the Christmas holidays. Little did her mom know this was the last time that she would ever talk to her daughter.

Lynne’s disappearance

Lynne had been studying hard for her philosophy and English drama classes. According to the dean of students, “while she may not have been quite living up to the promises implied by her Simsbury High scholastic record, like so many other first-year college students, she was ‘far from failing’”. On Friday, December 10th, 1971, she would be sitting for her English Drama exam.

That morning, her roommate, got up and left the room early—around 7:45AM—and reported that Lynne was still sleeping. Some of her friends from college said that she was preoccupied and sad that morning, and that she had planned to buy a bus ticket to New York that same day. At some point later, financial records indicated that she withdrew $30 from her bank account.

Her exam was scheduled for 1:00PM, but just 30 minutes prior, at 12:30PM, she was seen by another student off campus, about a one mile walk from her dorm, Battell Hall, just outside a health food store in downtown Middlebury, eating dried prunes. Lynne said that she had just missed the bus to New York. The same building that the health food store was locating in also housed the Vermont Transit Authority bus terminal. They then walked back to campus together.

15 minutes later, at 12:45PM, Lynne was seen by a friend of hers in her dorm room. She was in Lynne’s English drama class and would be taking the exam with her. Lynne said that she was looking for her favorite pen.

At 12:50PM, her friend said that she was still in her room, but by 12:55PM, she had disappeared. Her friend assumed that she had headed over to the classroom, so she hurried over to take the exam. She was surprised to discover that Lynne wasn’t there.

According to notes from a later meeting between Otto and the faculty, her professor said that “Lynne never missed a class and seemed quite attentive to the lectures usually sitting near the front." Why would she miss this important test?

At 2:15PM, likely while students in her class were wrapping up their test, Lynne was seen standing again in downtown Middlebury near the bus stop. This time, she was across the street from the health food store near a combo gas station/mechanic shop called ‘Keeler’s Gulf Station’.

Then, she vanished. Never to be heard from again for 51 years and counting.

Days Later

Her roommate returned to the dorms and didn’t see her later that night, and the next morning, Saturday, December 11th, she got up early and left campus to head home for winter break. She noticed that Lynne wasn’t home, but didn’t think too much of it, assuming that she had already left for the holiday.

By that Monday morning, three days after Lynne was last seen, someone alerted campus security that she was missing. One of Lynne’s close high school friends, who also went to Middlebury, told another mutual friend in Simsbury. And on Tuesday, that friend broke the news to Lynne’s mother. Anne said that her family “never believed the rumors that (Lynne) had taken off and was hitchhiking.” Her mother “in particular, believed that foul play was involved from the start.”

On Wednesday, Otto and Virginia contacted the school. The dean of students said that she had missed a second exam the prior day. Something was wrong.

Lynne’s parents contacted the Middlebury police and reported her missing. Though five days might seem unthinkable today to report someone missing, her sister, Anne, said “it was a different era. It was a more open, freer time. There wasn’t quite the concern then—nor the security.”

Her room was searched and it was discovered that she had left most all of her personal belongings. Otto said she left $185 in a bank account, $7 in cash and coins in her room, and a $25 check from him in her desk. She also left her Middlebury College ID card, her driver's license, and “her wallet” in her room, along with all of her clothes and a sleeping bag. The only things that they could deduce were missing were what she was wearing and her backpack.

She was last seen that early winter day in a handknit maroon pullover sweater, a brown nylon ski jacket, blue jeans, and hiking boots with a distinctive silver Indigenous ring adorned with turquoise stones.

Days turn into weeks

Her father made a number of trips to Middlebury between mid-December and mid-January. What was first alarming, but perhaps explicable as a reckless error of youth, grew to become their terrifying new reality. She had missed the holidays—a time with family that she treasured. She had missed her parent’s 25th wedding anniversary. Her father was quoted in the paper as saying the next major milestone in her life was her 19th birthday on February 9th. They kept hoping for the phone to ring.

Initially Otto had requested that the school not publicly disclose her disappearance, but when a month had passed, he lifted the press embargo and sought help from the public to find his daughter. The response was swift, and within a couple of weeks, articles appeared in the Burlington Free Press, the Hartford Courant, the Brattleboro Reformer, the Addison County Independent, the Bridgeport Post, and the Middlebury Campus.

Suddenly the chats that she had had with her friends where she dreamt of faking her own death and starting life anew, became strangely ominous. Even her dad admitted that Lynne was “quite independent” and “self-reliant”. While in high school, he recalled that she had worked as a waitress and liked the work. Otto said that “it is entirely possible she could be working somewhere. She gets along with people and is a very likable girl.”

False sightings

Police were getting some tips from the public in response to the press. State police were told she may have been seen in different parts of the state, but everything was turning out to be a dead end.

Hope was renewed with a promising lead from a newspaper reporter.

Celine Slator, co-publisher at the Addison County Independent, recalled a strange experience at one of her favorite restaurant’s: Lockward’s, in downtown Middlebury. On Monday, January 17th, she settled into her usual booth for a lunch alone (as was her custom on Mondays). She noticed a young girl wearing what she described as a prairie dress with a low neckline – I imagine a typical 70’s color like muted brown with a hem that nearly brushed the ground. It was the middle of winter, but an unseasonably warm day, perhaps high 30’s, and over her dress the girl was only wearing a black, open-stitch, sweater. When she sat down, Celine noticed that she was shivering, and her arms were wrapped around her. Her face was absolutely white. Her hair was blond and parted with one side neatly combed and the other less so – perhaps it she had slept on it. Celine sized her up as someone associated with communal living—in other words, a hippie. Throughout lunch, she kept an eye on the girl, and after wrapping up, she went over to the girl and asked her if she was alright. She asked if she could get her a storm coat. The girl responded that she was fine and that it was a far warmer day than people realized. She insisted that she had a coat at home and said thank you in a dull tone without a hint of emotion.

News about Lynne’s disappearance hadn’t yet broken, but on Sunday, 6 days later, she picked up the Friday, January 21st, copy of the Burlington Free Press, the first publication to announce Lynne’s disappearance, and saw the young girl’s face staring back at her.

She was aware, from her experience as a newspaperwoman, that whenever a story about a lost person broke, she would get reports of sightings from dozens of sources that were quickly discredited, so she was duly skeptical. But this was no ordinary sighting; she had already written an editorial about the encounter because it had stuck in her mind, but after getting it down on paper she decided to scrap it. When she saw the photo, though, she resurrected it from the wastebasket, and put it in a new context, writing a new editorial that both described the encounter and bolstered the credibility of her sighting. She said, “as a reporter she was well aware of false leads and false hopes, and she wanted no part of that, but she also did not want it on her conscience that she did not report the startling resemblance.” She promptly notified the college authorities that she may have seen the girl.

Vermont State Police thought that they had solved the mystery in May of 1972 when they tracked “Lynne” to a commune in Greensboro Bend in Orleans County, but the tip, once more, proved to be a case of mistaken identity.

It was easiest, at the time, for the police and the media, to cast Lynne as another counterculture runaway, living in some commune, falling off the grid, by her own choice. And Celine’s story fed right into that narrative.

Schulze family speaks out - 2011

In 2011, Anne and some of Lynne’s friends gave interviews to the Burlington Free Press to shed new light and bring awareness to the case. They were direct about their theories:

Anne spoke for the family, saying,

“We hope to locate Lynne's remains or at least get some confirmation about her death. Our family doesn't believe that Lynne is alive and suspect that she was killed or accidentally died soon after she disappeared."

She then cast doubt on some theories that had been advanced over the years, saying,

“anybody who knew her would know that it would be completely against her character to drop out without contacting anyone. We speculate that Lynne got to know a group of people who lived in Middlebury or nearby—possibly Rutland, or maybe Burlington—that may know of her demise.”

She speculated that Lynne’s personality—fun-loving, adventuresome, and fearless—and her love for meeting new people, may have led to her death.

Middlebury police chief Tom Hanley promised,

“We don’t let open cases like this go away. We feel that it is safe to assume that Lynne is deceased and we are investigating it as a possible homicide. We have kept this case alive for many, many years, and we will continue to do so.”

Who is Robert Durst?

Less than a year later, in 2012, the police got an intriguing tip from a source who has never been publicly-named. The tip was simple and straightforward: the health food store that Lynne purchased dates from on the final day that she was seen alive? It was owned by a man named Robert Durst.

To understand the significance of this revelation, you have to understand Robert’s history.

Robert Durst is a millionaire born into one of the oldest and wealthiest commercial real estate empires in New York City: The Durst Organization. In 2010, the company won the bid to invest $100 Million to co-develop and rebuild one of the most famous addresses in all of New York: 1 World Trade Center. According to Forbes, The Durst Organization is worth over $8 billion.

In 1971, then 28-year-old Robert met his future wife, Kathleen McCormack, who was 19. Their marriage was... not the waspy New York fairy tale it was purported to be.

A friend of Kathie’s later recalled how Robert’s violent mood swings and physical abuse would put her in the hospital. Kathie told her close confidants, “If anything ever happens to me, don’t let Bob get away with it.”

Despite her friends urging her to leave, she stayed.... until one night, a decade later, Kathie disappeared. On January 31st, 1982, Kathie showed up unexpectedly at a friend’s family gathering. Something was off. She appeared distraught and bit disheveled, which was out of character for her. While she was there, she got a call from Robert, and when she got off the phone, her friend remembered that she was visibly shaken. Shortly afterward she headed home. The next day, she had a scheduled lunch date with that same friend, but she never saw Kathie again.

Robert denied any knowledge of Kathie’s disappearance. Three weeks later, Kathie’s friend recovered her belongings from the trash at the couple’s NYC penthouse apartment. Robert was discarding any trace of her.

During the investigation, Robert’s close friend, Susan Berman, represented him for all media inquiries—relaying his alibi and answering questions on his behalf. And for almost 20 years, things were quiet... until 2000, when Kathie’s case was reopened by the Westchester DA. They wanted to talk to Susan about the case, but they never got that chance. In December of 2000, Susan Berman was found dead: shot, execution style in her home in Beverly Hills, California.

During this time, Robert was hiding out in Galveston, Texas, and only appeared in public disguised as a woman.

He remained incognito until the following year—in 2001—when he was arrested for the murder of his 71-year-old neighbor, Morris Black, whose dismembered remains were discovered floating in the Galveston Bay. Robert got out on bail and skipped town. A month later, he was discovered when he got into some hot water at a Wegman’s in Pennsylvania. He, while in his feminine disguise, had attempted to steal some band-aids, a newspaper, and a chicken-salad sandwich, (despite having nearly $40,000 in cash) but was caught and held at the supermarket. During a search of his car, police found his neighbor’s driver’s license and directions to the address of Kathie’s friend’s home in Connecticut, the last place Kathie was seen alive.

Despite the strong circumstantial evidence, Robert was found not guilty by a Texas jury of premeditated murder on the grounds that Black’s death was accidental as a result of a struggle that Black had initiated by brandishing a handgun. Robert was immediately released, but still had to face charges of bail jumping and evidence tampering. He took a plea bargain, got a five-year deal, was given credit for 2 years served in connection with the murder trial, and was paroled after 1 year, so he ultimately served just 3 years for crimes in connection with Black’s death and dismemberment.

Ten years after this incident had concluded, in 2015, an HBO documentary series about Durst and his potential crimes called “The Jinx” was released. Durst himself cooperated with producers, and gave pompous interviews for the series. Producers uncovered new information against him. While in the bathroom, Robert incriminated himself on a hot mic when, in between his non-sensical mutterings to himself, he uttered: “What the hell did I do? Killed them all, of course.”

Just before the final episode aired in 2015, Robert Durst was arrested and charged with the murder of his “friend” and spokeswoman, Susan Berman. It was clear he was trying to flee the country: agents found fake ID’s, stacks of money, his passport and real ID’s, maps of Louisiana and Cuba, and a full-face latex mask that matched his skin tone that the Assistant DA said, “was not a mask for Halloween.” Having learned from past mistakes, this “major flight risk” was not granted bail.

In a long and convoluted legal process, he was final convicted six years later in September 2021 of first-degree murder. At the age of 78, he was sentenced to life in prison, but it was short lived: Robert died three months later, after contracting COVID, on January 10th, 2022.

Robert Durst’s connection to Lynne

Durst was a serial killer, and when he was 28-years-old, Lynne Schulze was last seen in front of his shop. Was it a benign coincidence or the answer to a decades-old mystery?

The Middlebury Police held a bombshell press conference in 2015 in the midst of the release of The Jinx and Durst’s arrest, describing the link to Durst as one of the most interesting leads that they had ever had on the case, catapulting the 44-year-old missing person case into the national spotlight.

Police Chief Tom Hanley said that they had been investigating the connection since the tip came in 2012.

Tom said that he wouldn’t “use the term suspect, per se,” but described Durst as “a person that was very interesting to them.” There was no evidence that Lynne and Robert even knew one another let alone had any interaction on December 10th, 1971, but the circumstances of Lynne stopping at the store to purchase prunes the day of her disappearance and her propensity to spend time off-campus in downtown Middlebury, was too coincidental to ignore.

Robert’s high-profile defense attorney, Dick DeGuerin, responded to the link between his client and Lynne, saying,

“Bob Durst had no connection to the case in Vermont or any other case that some law enforcement people have seen fit to draw suspicions about. He’s an easy target for this game of ‘Blame it on Bob.’ There is no connection. It’s cruel [to the Schulze family] for police to bring this up. Family and friends may think there is new evidence where there is none.”

Tom explained that Robert was in the Middlebury area in 1971 and 1972, could have known Lynne, and was likely in contact with her the final day she was seen alive.

Lynne told friends the day of her disappearance that she was buying a bus ticket to New York, where Durst’s family resided and he had deep connections. Was there any connection between the two?

Tom said that police, in 2014, had searched a property near Middlebury, where Robert had lived in 1972, but found nothing of interest.

Where did Robert Durst live in Middlebury?

Chief Hanley told the press that Robert and young Kathie lived in a commune-type setting in the Middlebury area in the early 70’s, but he did not confirm an address. It’s believed that the property police focused on was in the woods in Ripton, a 15-minute drive away.

According to records found by Websleuths user Zephyranth, David and Rita Vilner bought the home on May 5th, 1971 from the Bougor family, and the Vilners sold it a year later, on July 12th, 1972, to a man named James Minchin. In the 70’s, it was known as the Charlie Miller camp or cabin. This was the “commune-type location” where Durst reportedly lived, but Durst’s name was not part of the ownership records.

A woman named Paula Israel, who married the owner of Wild Mountain Thyme—a clothing store that still stands in Middlebury today—told the Rutland Daily Herald in 2015 that at the time, Robert and Kathie did indeed live in Ripton, Vermont in the middle of the woods. Users on Websleuths also found others who allegedly confirmed the Ripton location. A longtime postal worker who didn’t recall Durst, offered this nugget:

“it wasn’t uncommon for wealthier people from major cities who were looking to connect with a simpler life to rent cabins in the area.”

Though I have no idea what the “Charlie Miller” camp in Ripton looked like, if it was a commune, I suspect that there were a number of small rustic dwellings that were built on the land. It’s been reported in more modern articles that some of the “site buildings” no longer exist on the property. In 2014, a man visited Ripton and asked around where he could find the old “Charlie Miller camp” where he’d stayed as a kid, and he was sent to Robbin’s Crossroad, a short street, just a half mile long, cutting through some woods, just outside of Ripton, that now only has a handful of houses along it.

Despite there being no physical record that Robert lived in Ripton, police have sufficient undisclosed reasoning to know he did live there, but what we don’t know, is for exactly how long.

All Good Things

From the Jinx documentary, in Kathie’s own handwriting, she mapped out the timeline of 1971 and 1972. She said that she had met Bob in the fall of 1971 in New York City when he was in town visiting from Vermont. He told her that he owned a health food store. They went on just two dates, when Robert asked her to move to Vermont and live with him. She agreed, and in January of 1972, a month after Lynne’s disappearance, Kathie joined him in Middlebury. She started working in the store immediately. By December of 1972, All Good Things was sold, and the couple moved away, settling into a home in Bedford, New York. And in April of 1973, they married, by which point, the health food store was a thing of the past.

But when Robert talked to the filmmakers about this period of time, his answers didn’t quite fall into place in the way I’d hoped. He said

“I had this health food store in my mind... and then I met Kathie. We got along great, and she was right away in favor of it.”

What’s frustrating about this quote is that even though Kathie wrote in her diary that Bob already had a store in Vermont (where he was living) when they met in the fall of 1971, his quote implies his dream became a reality when she inspired him. After they met. He also stated this store was his dream. He never wanted to work for his father. “This is it. This is what I wanted to do...” he said. It is well-established that he was in Vermont in the fall of 1971, but was he running a health food store at that time?

We turned to the Middlebury Campus, a hyper-local publication, for answers.

Throughout 1971, a health food store located at 15 Court Street was advertised under the name “OM Natural Health Food.” It was advertised under that name on December 9th, the day before Lynne went missing, and on January 28th, of 1972. Its name was written on a crudely illustrated barrel, and read “OM, open Mondays.” Something changed between January and February because the health food store was advertised under a new name in the February 24th edition. It had a list of bulk food prices for various grains and flours and in an eccentric hand-drawn font, it read “All Good Things, formerly called OM Health Foods”.

The name changed somewhere around this timeframe from “OM” to “All Good Things” which begs the question: did the name change coincide with a change in ownership? If the timing of the advertising is correct, then it appears that the transition took place around February 1972. Was Durst working at OM before he took it over? Or was it run strictly by the proprietors (who were also identified in the OM advertising), as David and Rita Vilner? The same Vilners that owned the Ripton property.

And strangest of all, when asked in The Jinx documentary what happened to the store, Robert replied “we sort of sold it.” What does that mean? Did he “sort of own it”? What was the arrangement between Durst and the Vilners? According to Websleuths, David Vilner said that he ran and operated the store, and then temporarily, “sold it for cash to Durst for about 8 months” before getting it back.

Based on the timing of the ads, it seems that if Lynne did buy the prunes from a store that day, it was wasn’t from All Good Things, but from OM Natural Health Food, which begs the question, could the Robert Durst lead just be a red herring?

It's not clear where the prunes tip came from, and the prunes are what link her directly to the store. In the original 1972 coverage of the case, there was no mention of prunes. It shows up for the first time in a March 2015 article in the Burlington Free Press. Though doubtful, is it possible that the 2012 tipster, 41 years after the fact, identified the food that Lynne was eating that Friday afternoon?

Another rumor that is floating around is that Lynne may have known Kathie, since they were nearly the same age, and there are reports that Kathie took classes at Middlebury. But Kathie didn’t arrive in Middlebury until January of 1972, by her own account, so the timelines just don’t line up.

I spent hours digging deeper into the rabbit hole on this Robert Durst/Vermont timeline, trying to find the exact details that would pave the way for clarity... and let me tell you, it’s extremely frustrating. There’s a lot of little holes and conflicting details. I think I ended up with more questions than answers. If we are able to fill in some of these gaps, we will publish an update.

Innocence lost

The Middlebury Police continue to investigate, but there have been no meaningful updates in the case since the news about the Robert Durst link broke in 2015. It’s been another 7 long years without answers.

I can’t help but think that the Schulze family must long to return to the simplicity of their Simsbury childhood. All of Lynne’s siblings are still alive today and have had to live their entire adult lives with this terrible question-mark. Her parents passed away without ever having the answers that they deserved.

Lynne was loved.

By her brothers, her sisters, her friends, and especially by her parents.

One of her friends described the child-like joy of their suburban youth: the wild parties, the smoking and drinking, and then, he wrote, “they all shuffled off to their respective liberal arts colleges like the good little yuppies we were supposed to be.”

Despite the gale-force winds that were reshaping the landscape of America, (Vietnam, race riots, the counterculture movement, the cold war), she was protected by her community—by her family—in quaint little Simsbury, Connecticut.

There was something magical about that time; traipsing through the forest on hiking trails with her friends, debating philosophy, rock-climbing on the boulders, and complaining about her acne.

She had her whole life ahead of her. But that future was stolen from her and from those who loved her.

The age-progressed simulated photos of Lynne give a modicum of hope—she could be safely living in some remote town under an assumed identity—but I believe the story of Lynne Schulze is that of innocence lost.

If you have any information about the 1971 disappearance of Lynne Schulze, please contact the Middlebury Police Dept at (802)-388-3191.

This text has been adapted from the Murder, She Told podcast episode, The Disappearance of Lynne Schulze. To hear Lynne’s full story, find Murder, She Told on your favorite podcast platform.

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Sources For This Episode

Newspaper articles

Various articles from Addison County Independent, Bennington Banner, Burlington Free Press, Daily News, Hartford Courant, New Hampshire Union Leader, Rutland Daily Herald, The Boston Globe, The Brattleboro Reformer, The Bridgeport Post, The Middlebury Campus, The Stamford Advocate, and The Times Argus., here.

Written by various authors including Avril Westmoreland, Celine Slator, Christopher Keating, Denis Slattery, Ellie Reinhardt, Evan Allen, Gordon Dritschilo, Kristin Stoller, Jennifer H Uberdeau, Juan Esteban Cajigas Jimenez, Kathleen Phalen Tomaselli, Kirk Hatsian, Kristin Stoller, Mike Donoghue, Peter Schworm, Rob Ryser, Tim Johnson, Trent Spiner, and Virginia Rohan.

Official sources

Middlebury Police Department, Lynne Schulze Powerpoint Presentation, 2015

Online written sources

'VT - Lynne Kathryn Schulze, 18, Middlebury, 10 Dec 1971' (Websleuths), 11/13/2005, by various users

'Favorite Rides' (Motorcyclist Magazine), 4/1/2004, by Dexter Ford

'Lynne Kathryn Schulze' (The Charley Project), 10/12/2004, no author credited

'Student’s fate a mystery' (Worcester Telegram & Gazette), 10/2/2005, by John Flowers

'Missing Lynne K. Schulze' (Vermont State Police), 3/13/2006, no author credited

'Missing woman mystery continues' (Addison County Independent), 8/1/2006, by John Flowers

'Garza disappearance revives '70s missing student' (Addison County Independent), 2/28/2008, by Megan James

'1582DFVT - Lynne Kathryn Schulze' (Doe Network), 1/1/2011, no author credited

'Combustion Engineering' (Coldwar Connecticut), 6/1/2011, no author credited

'Search goes on after 40 years' (Addison County Independent), 12/7/2011, by Alex

'Police hope to solve 41-year mystery of missing student' (Addison County Independent), 12/19/2012, by John Flowers

'Police explain Durst’s possible link…' (Addison County Independent), 3/23/2015, by Alex

'Midd Student Shopped at Durst's Store on Day She Disappeared' (Seven Days), by Molly Walsh

'Police shed light on Durst-Shulze link; Family releases statement' (Addison County Independent), 3/26/2015, by John Flowers

'How a Small-Town Detective Works a Big-Time Case' (Seven Days), 4/1/2015, by Molly Walsh

'Update: Middlebury Police Probe Potential Link to Cold Case' (Seven Days), http://sevendaysvt.com 12/30/2015, by Molly Walsh

Books

Advice and Dissent, Scientists in the Political Arena, by Joel Primack & Frank von Hippel, 1974

The Great Strategy Debate: NATO’s Evolution in the 1960s, by Richard L. Kugler (1991)

Photos

Photos from various online articles and newspaper articles

Credits

Created, researched, written, told, and edited by Kristen Seavey

Writing, research, and photo editing support by Byron Willis