No Body of Evidence

Nancy Ekelund couldn't have imagined a worse day than Christmas 1986. She had just motored her Volkswagen bus down the grade on the north end of the Grapevine and was approaching Bakersfield. At 6 a.m., sunrise was still an hour away. Moisture evaporating off the surrounding fields mingled with cold air dropping from the rock cliffs of the Sierras blanketing the 5 Freeway in a thick fog. Nancy's 5-year-old daughter Lynsie slept in the back seat. Without warning, they were struck from behind by a car they would never see again. The bus careened out of control and rolled violently across the asphalt.

When it was over, Nancy hung by her seat belt, her back broken. As rescue workers extracted Nancy from the wreckage and ferried her to a waiting ambulance, she could see her daughter Lynsie's tiny body, clad in red overalls, lying unconscious in the road, curled into a fetal position.

Nancy would fully recover from her injuries, but Lynsie would never be the same. She would spend the next several months in a coma. Following the accident, she would undergo 28 orthopedic surgeries, including a reconstruction of her crushed trachea, and multiple neuro-surgeries. She would be left mildly paralyzed on her left side, a condition that led to both an intense bond with her mother as well as significant insecurities around her peers. At the time, Nancy couldn't have imagined a worse fate befalling her only daughter.

Fifteen years later, Lynsie disappeared from her quiet Placentia neighborhood. In the early morning hours of February 17, 2001, the whereabouts of Lynsie begin to be in question. The last person to see her says he has a hazy recollection of the evening, and sheds little light on whatever may have happened to her. Few details were available then. Almost a decade later, there aren't many more.

"The police have kept me in the dark for almost eight years," says Nancy of the investigation handled by the Placentia Police Department.

The facts of the case are obscured by conflicting witness statements and the passage of time. What is known is that on that night, 20-year-old Fullerton College student Lynsie Ekelund told her mother she was going to stay with a friend named Andrea. Later that evening, Nancy says 22-year-old Chris McAmis arrived at the door to pick Lynsie up.

After a brief chat, McAmis drove off with Lynsie in his king-cab pickup truck. Nancy hasn't seen her daughter since.

The following afternoon, Nancy says she called McAmis. He told her that he had dropped Lynsie off near her home the previous night at around 11. "He said he left her at the corner, but our house was two doors down from the corner -- so why would he do that? Any gentlemen would walk a lady to the door and make sure the key fit in and say goodnight, so he lied."

Nancy called the police.

Citing the ongoing nature of the case, investigator James McElhinney, a detective with the Placentia Police Department, declines to divulge many details of what the police believe happened that night.

McElhinney is a man of average height with military bearing, a steady poker face and eyes like knives. He will only say there are no formal suspects at this time. Lynsie's disappearance is being investigated as a 'no-body homicide.' In uninflected tones, McElhinney states that Lynsie went to San Diego with one male and two females. The group planned on going clubbing. Instead, they arrived in San Diego, ate dinner and returned home. Lynsie was reportedly dropped off in front of her house Saturday at 4 a.m.

Nancy says that when police first responded to her call, there was little sense of urgency on their part. Indications suggest the case's original investigator, Detective Corrine Loomis, suspected that Lynsie might have disappeared intentionally.

"'They usually come home within two or three days,' I remember Detective Loomis telling me in my living room," Nancy says. "It never happened."

In the March 3, 2001 issue of The Los Angeles Times, Detective Loomis is quoted, "We really don't know if foul play is involved, but we consider her in danger." The article added that there was no activity on Lynsie's bank account or cell phone since the day she disappeared. If intentional disappearance was what Lynsie wanted, her options were limited -- according to her mother, Lynsie lacked the confidence to drive due to her paralysis.

As the days blended to weeks, and then to months, little information came through. Nancy says she would occasionally stop by the police station to "pound on someone's desk," but to no avail. There was some media attention, but shortly after Lynsie's disappearance, public interest in the case winnowed away.

Nancy says she was administered an FBI polygraph, which she maintains she passed. She says a test administered to McAmis was inconclusive. Detective McElhinney declines to confirm either claim.

Karen Spiekerman, who lives in the house directly next to the home where Nancy and Lynsie lived, says she was never questioned by Placentia Police.

Spiekerman speculates that Lynsie was never dropped off that morning. She explains that when Lynsie would pass her house, she would often cut across the Spiekerman's lawn, alerting the family's two dogs. According to Spiekerman, she heard nothing that night.

Discussing the frustrations Nancy has endured over the past eight years, Spiekerman compares Lynsie's case with that of Chandra Levy, the young woman who disappeared after having an affair with Rep. Gary Condit, a case that became a national obsession. "[Nancy] never got what the Levys got because obviously they had more money, and Chandra was doing a congressman."

Detective McElhinney won't specify when the investigation into Lynsie's disappearance shifted gears from a missing persons' search to a homicide case, saying only that it occurred after a "reasonable amount of time."

Nancy says the first time she met Detective McElhinney, years after Lynsie's disappearance, he presented her with a search warrant for her house. "[He] called and he says, 'I'd like to meet you.' So I made cookies and I went to the door, and when he came to meet me, there were two big dogs staring at me and three policemen. I thought, oh this isn't good."

After Nancy agreed to sign the warrant, the police spent the next several hours rummaging through her house and digging up her back yard.

"They were looking for [Lynsie]," Nancy says.

Lynsie's mother wasn't the only one paid such a visit by police. Martin Pregenzer, a bear of a man in his sixties who says he barely knew Lynsie, recounts his brush with police as a terrifying experience. "They raided the house and scared the crap out of my wife," Pregenzer says. He adds that he was taken to the police station and interrogated for hours.

Pregenzer says he met Lynsie when he was driving one day and saw her crossing the street, struggling with a bag she was carrying. He offered her a ride. Pregenzer maintains that he was little more than a chauffer to Lynsie, at times even giving her boyfriend rides.

Pregenzer claims that living for years under the specter of police suspicion has taken a toll on him. He says he was even threatened at one point by Lynsie's boyfriend following her disappearance. When asked where he was the night she disapeared, he points to a scar on his leg. "I got replaced knees, I got a replaced hip -- I was in bed." Pregenzer adds, "We're law abiding citizens; I'm afraid of a traffic ticket."

While he denies any involvement in Lynsie's disapearance, Pregenzer admits to refusing to take a polygraph test. "I've just heard you never want to take one because they're unreliable." When asked to describe how well he knew Lynsie, Pregenzer refuses to elaborate.

By Nancy's accounts, Pregenzer's relationship with Lysnie went beyond driving her around town. "He'd buy her clothes. All of a sudden she'd show up with a beautiful leather jacket," Nancy says. She adds that Lynsie would inexplicably bring home leftovers from expensive restaraunts.

Police investigators won't comment on Pregenzer's or Nancy's statements. They are also quiet regarding McAmis, the last person to see her. The fact that none of them have been named as a formal suspect suggests the investigation has lacked focus over the years. One has to ask how the young man who said he dropped Lynsie off near her home fits into the equation.

Yearbook photos show that Chris McAmis was a senior at Buena Park High School in 1998, and a member of the Future Farmers of America. His class picture shows a young man with a boyish face made more youthful by the broad shoulders of his slightly oversized suit. Now 29, McAmis owns a small house in a quiet neighborhood just north of California State University, Fullerton, a few miles from where he said he dropped Lynsie off. His face still bears a youthful quality, though it's rounder now with age. His work shirt hides a slight paunch.

When asked to recall who else was there the night he and Lynsie went to San Diego, McAmis struggles to remember names. He repeatedly says his memory of that night is unclear. After a length of time, he says that a girl named Andrea Vaughn, and another friend named Michael Plotnik went to San Diego to visit a friend named Lara Bollinger as well as a woman named Christianne. His statement conflicts with police accounts that place one male and two females on the trip. Michael Plotnik denies being there. According to McAmis, Christianne now lives in Denmark.

Describing the group's visit with Christianne, McAmis says, "We just hung out for a little bit and talked about stuff and life and stuff like that." McAmis says it was 2 or 3 the following morning when he dropped Lynsie off at the corner near her house so as not to wake her mother.

While attempts to locate Christianne were unsuccesful, Lara Bollinger now works at the Pentagon as a Public Affairs Officer for the Navy. She says she recalls a weekend in February 2001 when Lynsie and McAmis visited her at the University of San Diego where she lived in a dorm. "They may have visited me I guess over the weekend or something," says Bollinger. "I think they may have crashed on my couch." She says that Lynsie was an aquaintence of hers, adding, "I barely knew this person you're talking about, but I do remember them coming down and I do remember this girl going missing after [McAmis] dropped her off."

Instead of leaving in the early morning however, Bollinger says she recalls McAmis driving them around her campus in his truck the following day. "We must have all gotten up, had breakfast, and I showed them around." She believes that after showing them around her campus, they went shopping at the Fashion Valley Mall. She says that it was either late morning or noon that the visitors returned to Orange County.

When asked to recount who else was there that night, Bollinger struggles to remember. After several moments she mentions the names Christianne Serona, who she says now lives in Denmark, and Andrea Meyers. When asked if Michael Plotnik was there, she abruptly excuses herself from the conversation and puts the phone on hold. Upon returning, she continues, "It's really foggy. Until you mentioned it, I'd forgotten about that night." When asked if Sarona, Meyers and Plotnik were there, she replies, "Yeah, I think that's probably about it. I can't verify if Christianne was there."

After multiple unsuccesful attempts to reach Plotnik at a home owned by his mother, he contacts me by phone. In soft-spoken voice, he apologizes for avoiding me, saying that he was annoyed his name was mentioned in connection with the night of Lynsie's disappearance. He claims that he didn't go to San Diego. He goes onto say that he hasn't spoken to McAmis in years and characterizes him as less than an honest person. "Anything he'd say, he'd lie about everything." Regarding Bollinger's speculation that he and Lynsie spent the night at her dorm and left the following morning, "I don't know why anybody mentioned my name." Plotnik adds that he has never been contacted by police.

Although the question remains as to whether Plotnik joined the group in their trip to San Diego, Andrea Meyers admits readily to going there with Lynsie and McAmis. Although she declines to be interviewed by phone, Meyers, who now lives in Nashville, Tennessee, sends a lengthy, albeit vaugue e-mail describing the evening in question. She says they were joined by another girl whose name she cannot recall -- possibly someone named Amy, and that they went to San Diego to visit a friend and intended to go dancing. Instead of dancing, however, she says they hung out with friends then went to Denny's. They returned to the Riverside area where Meyers says she was dropped off at around 4 a.m.

Meyers declines to speculate on what happened to Lynsie, though she writes that McAmis supposedly failed lie detector tests. "I had two detectives come to my house and ask me a lot of questions and they told me to basically stay away from Chris," writes Meyers. Although she is in his Facebook network, she says she never talks to him.

Meyers says she regrets going to San Diego. "My mom told me she had a weird feeling about me going there that night ... but I didn't listen."

Multiple requests sent to Andrea for a phone interview go unanswered and are ultimately met with a curt message from her husband, Justin Meyers, saying his wife has no further information to offer.

According to McAmis, it was a few days following Lynsie's disapearance that the police contacted him to say that she was missing. Describing the attention he received from the police, McAmis says with an off-putting chuckle, "They did an investigation into my car." When asked what that investigation entailed, McAmis replies, "Like, um, they did like -- because I was the last person -- they say I'm not a suspect, but I was the last person to see her so they wanted to investigate my stuff, and they didn't find anything."

McAmis admits that he was administered an FBI polygraph. "They use a lot of tactics to make you jump. They were doing that kind of stuff."

Despite claims by Nancy and Meyers to the contrary, McAmis maintains he passed the polygraphs he was administered. When asked directly if he ever failed a polygraph, he replies, "not that I know of."

Upon being asked to speculate on what happened to Lynsie, McAmis mentions she had been calling someone on her cellphone throughout the night. He says he didn't want to "pry" into who she was talking to and suggests whoever it was may have picked her up after McAmis dropped her off. He also suggests she may have encountered a burglar.

Bollinger says she heard about Lynsie's disapearance approximately two weeks after McAmis and Lynsie visited her in San Diego. She says that she recieved a call, possibly from Andrea Meyers, saying that nobody could find her. Bollinger maintains she was never questioned by police and says she assumed Lynsie was eventually found, adding that her disappearance "didn't impact my life much." Bollinger ends the conversation by asking that she not be identified in this piece.

Michael Plotnik is initially hesitant to theorize about what may have happened to Lynsie though he says she told him she was pregnant two nights before she and McAmis went to San Diego. Plotnik says, "it sounds like Chris may have helped her leave." In a subsequent e-mail Plotnik suggests the group may have gone to Mexico. "Since San Diego is practically a walk across the border, what's to stop anyone from going there?" He declines to conjecture any further, however, writing "I don't know what happened and I'm certainly not speculating anything happened ... The only person who is going to have an answer of any kind is Chris."

Judging striclty by his demeanor, one might wonder if Chris McAmis has been burdened over the past eight years by the weight of being the last person to see a missing friend. His descriptions of Lynsie and the evening they spent together are delivered in a causal tone that stands in marked contrast with the details of the scenario. Before we finish speaking, a small child he identifies as his daughter sidles up to him. He picks her up in his arms. She points at a nearby hedge and says "butterflies."

In a subsequent interview, McAmis offers amendments to his original story. Contrary to Andrea's claim that the group didn't end up dancing, he says that the trip to San Diego in fact involved dancing at a club. At some point, the group went to the place of a friend whom he can't remember (he says either Lara Bollinger or Christianne). When it is mentioned that Bollinger said he and Lynsie spent the night at her dorm and left the following morning, he replies, "I think she's getting her stories mixed up."

When asked again who was there that night, he says Michael Plotnik's name. When it's mentioned that Plotnik denies being there, McAmis replies, "If he insists he wasn't there, maybe he wasn't there."

While there is little to no public interest in Lynsie's story, Placentia Police have arrested two suspects in connection with the 1994 murder of CSUF student Cathy Torrez. Torrez' family was successful in nurturing fruitful relationships both with members of the police department as well as the city of Placentia. According to a July 7, 2007 Los Angeles Times article, the city of Placentia was offering reward money totaling close to $100,000 for a conviction of Torrez' killer.

According to Nancy (CHECK POLICE), neither the city of Placentia nor the Placentia Police have offered a reward for information leading to the whereabouts of Lynsie. Though Nancy says the Carol Sund/Carrington Foundation offers rewards for information regarding missing persons, she explains that Placentia Police have not written the letter necessary to initiate the reward. Cristina Barron, a victim advocate for the foundation, says a letter from the investigating agency containing a synopsis of the case is required before any money is offered. Citing foundation policy, she won't discuss the details of Lynsie's situation.

For now, McAmis continues to work in construction and run a gaming Web site. Andrea Meyers is about to give birth to twins. Michael Plotnik works at an engineering firm run by his father, Zvi. According to Nancy, none have called to express their sympathy for the loss of Lynsie. Nancy works as a switchboard operator at a local insurance company, and is grieving over the recent death of her father. She lives with her two cats in a condominium in Brea. When asked what she believes happened to Lynsie, she says, "I don't know where she is. Maybe she died that first night. Maybe she --," Nancy pauses for a moment, perhaps mentally running through a range of scenarios limited in horror only by her imagination -- "I don't know."

One of the challenges of researching Lynsie's story lay in finding people who knew her well. With the exception of her mother, most of Lynsie's acquaintances were unable or unwilling to speak about her with any kind of depth. Her friends have no information to offer regarding her disappearance. Now, if the worst has happened, the question remains, will anyone ever be able to speak for her?

If you have any information regarding Lynsie Ekelund's disappearance, please contact Placentia Police at 714-993-8164.

Contact the writer at fctorch.bferguson@gmail.com.