On July 21, 1985, 15-year-old Christy Wesselman left her home in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, to walk to a nearby store for a soda and a chocolate bar. She never returned. The case would remain unsolved for three decades, until a routine arrest in another town finally exposed the truth.
Christy was born on April 19, 1970, and grew up in a town considered one of the safest in the area. She was popular at school, served as vice president of her class, and played volleyball and softball. That summer, she was taking classes and spending her free time with friends.
Around 3:30 p. m. on the day she disappeared, Christy arrived home from school and decided to make the short trip to the local store.
Her mother expected her back within minutes. When she didn’t return, her mother first assumed Christy had run into friends. But as evening fell, worry turned to panic.
She called Christy’s friends, none of whom had seen her. She searched the streets herself, but there was no sign of her daughter.
By 1:50 a.m., the family contacted the police.
Officers quickly pieced together Christy’s last known movements. The clerk at the store knew her well—he had even babysat her when she was younger. He confirmed she had come in around 4:00 p.
m. , bought chocolate bars, and left. She seemed happy, and nothing about her behavior seemed unusual.
Other witnesses at the store remembered seeing her, but no one could say where she went afterward.
Investigators spoke to all of Christy’s friends, but none had seen her that day. With no leads, police began combing the streets. The search continued through the night and into the next morning.
A detective then suggested retracing Christy’s likely route. Between the residential area and the store lay a large vacant lot with tall grass. Local kids often took a shortcut through the field, where a narrow path had been worn into the grass.
The detective followed that trail and spotted something unusual in the overgrowth.
It was Christy’s body.
Forensic specialists combed the scene but found no footprints, no personal belongings, and no clues. The medical examiner determined Christy had died from eight stab wounds. There was also evidence of sexual assault, and biological material from the perpetrator was collected.
But in 1985, DNA testing was still in its infancy and not commonly used in criminal investigations. The sample was stored for future use.
Christy’s mother provided another detail: Christy had been wearing a pearl ring that day. It was nowhere to be found. Detectives suspected the killer had taken it and instructed officers to watch pawn shops.
Despite the proximity of the crime scene to busy areas, no one had seen or heard anything. Several people had used the same path around the estimated time of the murder, but none reported anything suspicious. A family had been hosting a barbecue just a few dozen yards away, yet they heard nothing.
An employee at a gas station about 60 yards from the field worked his entire shift without noticing anything unusual.
Investigators theorized that the attacker either followed Christy from the store or encountered her on the path. They considered the possibility that she knew her killer, which might explain why there were no screams. Police investigated men who knew Christy and compiled a list of those with prior violent convictions, but every lead came up empty.
For three years, the case stalled. Then, in 1988, DNA analysis was becoming a key investigative tool. Detectives collected DNA samples from everyone who had been a potential suspect.
Most cooperated, and none matched the biological evidence.
One man refused: Dana Henry, a 34-year-old who lived near the field where Christy was found. He had been on the police’s radar from the start but denied any involvement. His refusal to provide a sample made him a prime suspect.
Police sought a court order, and Henry was held in contempt of court and jailed for several days before he agreed to give his DNA.
The test cleared him. Henry was released, but his life was ruined. He told reporters he had spent around $50,000 on legal fees, mortgaged his home and eventually lost it, and many friends and family turned their backs on him.
He filed a lawsuit against the police department, but it went nowhere. Even after DNA cleared his name, some still believed he was guilty. Henry later said the ordeal had destroyed his life, and no one from the police department ever apologized.
In 1989, another twist emerged. A local man named Willis had been bombarding Christy’s family with tips about who he believed was responsible. He first contacted them in late 1985 and continued for nearly four years.
Every tip was investigated and found to be irrelevant. The family finally filed a complaint, and a judge issued a restraining order barring Willis from contacting them. Police investigated him as well, but found no evidence linking him to the crime.
In 2000, the killer’s DNA was uploaded to the FBI’s database. No matches were found. The case remained cold for years, revisited occasionally but never solved.
Then, in 2015, something unexpected happened. The FBI database flagged a match. The DNA from Christy’s killer perfectly matched a profile uploaded after a recent arrest.
The man was Michael Jones, a 62-year-old living in Champaign, about 150 miles from Glen Ellyn. His DNA had been added to the database after his wife reported him to police for domestic violence. Illinois law, passed in 2002, required DNA samples from anyone suspected of a crime.
Notably, the main advocate for that law was the state’s attorney from the same county where Christy was murdered. The unsolved case had been a major factor in his push for the legislation.
Jones’s name had never come up in the investigation. He wasn’t a suspect, a witness, or anyone remotely connected to the case. Detectives hadn’t known he existed.
His criminal history stretched back decades. In the mid-1970s, he assaulted a woman but apparently avoided serious consequences. A year later, he attacked a 27-year-old woman, assaulted her, and left her in a hospital parking lot.
When a warrant was issued, Jones turned himself in. At trial, he expressed regret, claimed respect for the law, and said he suffered from mental health issues. But an independent psychiatrist determined he was fully aware of his actions.
Jones was sentenced to 10 to 20 years in prison. He was released early for good behavior after serving just six years, in 1983—two years before Christy’s murder. His victim was never informed of his early release.
She later said she would have fought the decision had she known.
In 1994, Jones’s first wife left him and secured a restraining order after he showed an unhealthy interest in one of her young relatives. No formal charges were filed. In 1999, he was arrested again for assaulting a family member of his new girlfriend.
Detectives also learned that Jones often took long solo motorcycle trips and frequently visited relatives in Chicago. Glen Ellyn was on the outskirts of that route. If he was just passing through, his presence would have been nearly impossible to track.
When police first contacted Christy’s mother about Jones, she didn’t think much of it. After 30 years of routine inquiries, it felt like just another call. But everything changed when police obtained a fresh DNA sample from Jones while he was in prison.
It confirmed once and for all that he was the killer.
They visited Christy’s mother in person to deliver the news.
Before formally charging Jones, detectives spoke with his ex-girlfriend. She described him as volatile, calm one moment and flying into a rage the next. She also mentioned his obsession with detective books and crime shows on TV.
Investigators suspected Jones might be responsible for other unsolved crimes as well. His frequent solo trips, criminal tendencies, and fascination with crime stories suggested he knew how to cover his tracks.
On September 18, 2015, Jones was officially charged with Christy’s murder. He denied any involvement. The case dragged on for three years, with the trial finally beginning in 2018.
Prosecutors sought a life sentence, but Jones ultimately pleaded guilty in exchange for a lighter sentence. As part of the deal, he wasn’t required to reveal details about the crime, but the DNA evidence left no question about his guilt. The judge sentenced him to 80 years in prison, with no possibility of parole before 2095.
In practical terms, Jones will never walk free again.
Christy’s family thanked the investigators for finally closing the case. Her mother also expressed frustration over Jones’s early release in 1983, pointing out that if he had served his full sentence, he wouldn’t have had the chance to attack her daughter. Christy would still be alive today.
Dana Henry, the man wrongly suspected for years, attended the trial of the real killer. In a later interview, he shared that the accusations had ruined his life, and even decades later, he still hadn’t fully recovered. He hoped seeing justice served would help him heal, but it didn’t.
He also revealed that no one from the police department ever apologized or faced consequences for the damage caused to his life.
The case was finally closed, but the cost of the long wait was measured in more than years. It was measured in a family’s grief, a falsely accused man’s destroyed reputation, and a killer who walked free for three decades before the system caught up with him.