Christopher Tapp

She grew up in a household of three brothers.

So she wrestled with him, and her friends always knew that nobody got in her face because she would take care of you.

She was good-sized, too.

I mean, she wasn't a wee petite thing.

She was 5'11", and she was strong.

Strong and grown up enough in 1996 to move across town from the family home to her own apartment.

And we gave each other a hug, and she walked towards her car, and she...

threw me a kiss and says I love you and I did the same and it was like she's in slow motion and she just drifted up the street and it's the last time I saw her it all seems surreal now that thing that happened all these years later

It was the morning of June 13th, 1996.

Bill Squires was a rookie cop when he got the call to go to a house in a residential neighborhood here on I Street in Idaho Falls.

So I just barely got out of training and was, you know, working as a solo police officer myself when that call came out.

He made his way upstairs to a tiny second floor apartment.

What did you see inside that apartment?

What appeared to be, unfortunately, a murdered young lady.

That was the first homicide that I'd ever been exposed to.

The victim was, of course, Angie Dodge.

Keep a log, said a senior officer.

And that's what Squires did.

He kept track of everyone who went in and out.

Standard procedure.