When cops go wrong, often it’s because they’re sure they’re right.

They know, in their gut, a suspect is guilty. So they stop looking for other possibilities. It’s not that they start planting evidence. It’s that they disregard any evidence that doesn’t help them make their case.

Known as confirmation bias, it means dismissing concepts that challenge held beliefs. And it can lead to innocent people going to prison and killers roaming free.

“Trailed: One Woman’s Quest to Solve the Shenandoah Murders," by Kathryn Miles. (Algonquin Books)

That’s the idea behind Kathryn Miles’ “Trailed: One Woman’s Quest to Solve the Shenandoah Murders.” Based on years of in-depth reporting, she concludes that authorities missed the real killer in their determination to convict the most likely suspect.

The tragic victims at the heart of “Trailed” are Julianne “Julie” Williams and Laura “Lollie” Winans, two twenty-something, opposites-attract lovers. Williams, 24, was a middle-class kid from a loving Minnesota family, a quietly focused scholar with a geology degree. Winans, 26, was a rich kid from an abusive Michigan clan, a tie-dyed free spirit taking forever to finish college.

They shared a love of the outdoors and met through Woodswomen in 1995. Then, hiking, camping and mountain-climbing weren’t just male-dominated but, Miles notes, misogynistic. The Minnesota non-profit organization helped women find their place in the wilderness.

Lollie Winans (left) and Julie Williams together in early 1996. (Algonquin Books / Kathryn Miles)

It was also where Williams and Winans found each other.

“Woodswomen was the perfect environment for big love,” Miles writes. “Everyone was super fit, super active. The women would depart for expeditions in the Galapagos and Ireland and return exhausted and starving and on a constant outdoor high that magnified every feeling.”

Soon Williams and Winans were dreaming of a life together.

On May 22, 1996, they checked in at Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, planning to vacation in the remote backcountry. Experienced campers, they came equipped with a tent, sleeping bags, and Winans’ big, scaredy-cat dog, Taj. Their permits noted their planned exit date, May 27.

By May 30, though, no one had heard from Williams and Winans. Their friends were worried. Williams’ father called the park that night but was directed to a recording. Reaching rangers the next day, he was told they would start a search. A description of the couple, and Taj, was distributed.

The view from Hawksbill Mountain, which the women hiked the afternoon of May 24, 1996. (Algonquin Books / Kathryn Miles)

Night fell without a sign of any of them.

The next day, the rangers resumed their search. Taj was the first to be spotted, alone and wandering around without his collar. It felt like a bad sign. At 9:20 that night, the searchers found the women in their sleeping bags. Their throats had been cut.

By midnight, the crime scene was crammed with rangers, state police, and FBI agents. The women had been gagged, and their wrists bound with duct tape. Winans’ ankles had been tied together, too. Both women were severely bruised. Taj’s collar, cut off, was still tied to a tree branch. There was no sign of robbery.

Taj, Lollie’s beloved dog, hunkered down in the shade near White Oak Canyon, not far from where he was eventually found. (Algonquin Books / Kathryn Miles)

The idea that someone was stalking campers was terrifying. So it was dismissed. The park’s assistant superintendent declared the deaths a murder-suicide. “They were apparently in a romantic relationship, and one of the women allegedly had previous drug and alcohol problems,” he said.

What their relationship or substance use had to do with how they were murdered was unclear. Neither woman was a heavy drinker; Winans’ use of drugs was mostly limited to college parties. The couple hadn’t been fighting. There was no suicide note. If it had been murder, how exactly had the killer duct-taped her hands and gagged herself before crawling into her sleeping bag and cutting her own throat?

It was a ridiculous theory, but the park official clung to it. After all, “Once news of the women’s deaths became public, park visitors would clamor for a heightened law enforcement presence,” he warned. “Wait until news organizations discover the incident on their own before making any announcement.”

The story quickly got out, of course.

The rear of the women’s tent, which investigators believe was slashed with a knife by their killer. (Algonquin Books / Kathryn Miles)

Finding a suspect, though, took another year.

In 1997, Yvonne Malbasha was cycling through the park when a man in a pickup threw a can of soda at her. He sped away, then did a U-turn and drove past again, yelling obscenities. Then he stopped the truck and jumped out. “I’m going to get you!” he yelled. Malbasha screamed and threw her water bottle at him. He got back in his truck and drove off.

Malbasha reported it to the rangers, who quickly caught the man. His name was Darrell David Rice. He said he had been up all night and had been smoking marijuana. Rice acknowledged that he was going through “a rough patch.” And, admitted he became angry sometimes and threw a rock at a car that day. He apologized for harassing Malbasha, saying he “was just trying to aggravate her.”

He also asked if they ever caught the person “who killed those two women last year.” He said he was in the park around the time it happened.

Darrell David Rice. (Algonquin Books / Kathryn Miles)

Rice was booked for assault. He also immediately became the prime suspect in the Williams/Winans murders.

The evidence was circumstantial, but it was incontrovertible, according to one law enforcement officer. “He attacked another woman in the park,” the ranger later told Miles, ticking off the connections. “He threw a rock at a car where Julie’s car had been parked.” And, the ranger added, when they caught him, Rice had been wearing short shorts and a T-shirt advertising a Rolling Stones album, “Sticky Fingers.”

“He dressed like a pervert,” the ranger said.

Convinced they nabbed their guy, the authorities stopped looking for anyone else.

The only problem? Nothing was tying Rice to the murders. His fingerprints weren’t at the scene. His hair didn’t match strands found stuck to the duct tape. Questions about the times of death made it difficult to prove he was in the park when the murders happened.

Still, the FBI kept at it. Rice was indicted. An undercover agent spent three years befriending Rice and failed to get him to confess. Finally, federal prosecutors dropped the murder charges for lack of evidence.

Rice served his sentence of 11 years for assault and attempted kidnapping of Malbasha.

Meanwhile, DNA evidence found at the murder scene remains in storage. Some think it may match Richard Marc Evonovitz. The serial predator kidnapped a 15-year-old in 2002, drugging her and raping her repeatedly. She escaped when he dozed off. Waking up in a panic, Evonovitz went on the run. He called his sister from the road, telling her that he had hurt women. “More than I can remember,” he said.

When police closed in, he put a gun in his mouth and killed himself.

Glove found at the scene and believed to have been worn by the women’s killer. (Algonquin Books / Kathryn Miles)

His apartment was filled with guns, knives, and bondage equipment. Fibers found in his car’s trunk linked him to three murdered girls in Virginia. Basic DNA tests, while inconclusive, said he couldn’t be ruled out as a suspect in the Williams and Winans murders, either.

Still, the FBI did not pursue these possible leads and more sophisticated and extensive tests were never done.

“Scholars have only recently begun to understand just how widespread confirmation bias has been in thwarting justice, particularly for the victims of violent crime,” Miles writes.

And more than 25 years later, the murderer of Williams and Winans remains unknown.

Copyright © 2021, New York Daily News

Copyright © 2021, New York Daily News